Page 10 of Big Dill

Luckily, that kiss didn’t happen because someone in the kitchen had dropped a dish. A loud crash, a perfect distraction.

Luckily.

Ah, babe, that’s not lucky.

Lucky was the night you met Brody in the bar and he smelled like the outdoors, and lumber…sunshine after rain.

Lucky was the way he kissed you against the door of the hotel room.

Lucky was⁠—

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not going there. Not now, and definitely not later, when I’m alone in bed under the same roof.

Not. Going. To. Think. About. It.

Much.

And if I do, it will only be three thousand times.

Max.

Jaxon holds his hand out and I shrug out of my coat. I hand it over and my arms fall, just as Brody walks past me, his knuckles brushing mine. Soft. Intentional. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that’s the problem—we both know exactly what we’re not supposed to want.

We both know the deal.

We can’t do anything to mess up his relationship with my brother. Full stop. No exceptions. No door-kissing repeat performances, despite the fact my hormones are staging a mutiny.

“You’ll take my room,” Jaxon says firmly as he tosses his hat onto a hook. “I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s honestly not a problem. Couch and I are bros.”

I shake my head fast. “Absolutely not. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch. I’m already putting you both out enough as it is.”

Brody takes off his coat, then leans a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, eyes on me—those slow, assessing eyes that make me feel like he can see past the jokes and the brave face and straight into the part of me that’s terrified of the future.

“I don’t mind,” Jaxon says, already settling into Big Brother Mode.

“Well, I do,” I fire back. “I’m not putting you out.” There. Firm. Responsible. Reasonable.

“Then take my bed,” Brody says, and the knot in my stomach vaults into my throat like it’s trying to escape. “I don’t mind being put out.”

Oh no he didn’t.

Dude, we do not flirt politely in front of my brother. We absolutely cannot do that.

“I… you…” Why are words so hard? Why does my tongue suddenly weigh forty pounds?

“You’ll take my bed,” Jaxon cuts in, voice firm with big-sibling authority and the kind of finality that could silence a courtroom. “And that’s the end of it.” I’m about to protest because no way is that the end of it, but he nods to himself, pleased, hands already landing between my shoulder blades to steer me toward the stairs. “I’m sure an apartment will open soon. They’ve nearly finished the construction on the new housing.” He gives me a gentle push. “Move it.”

I take a hesitant step, because apparently, even as an adult, muscle memory remembers that when Jaxon uses that tone, childhood-me obeys.

“I’ll give you the tour once you’re settled,” he adds, grabbing my suitcase. “The tour of the town will have to wait till tomorrow.”

“Jaxon,” I groan, dragging out his name like a desperate plea, and with one last determined attempt, I dig in my heels—literally—like I used to when we were kids and he wanted me to jump off the high dive with him. “Please, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He opens his mouth, probably to shut me down again, but then his phone pings. Loudly. Dramatically. Saved-by-the-bell style. He glances at the screen and winces. “Shoot, I have to take this.”

He looks at Brody, who’s leaning casually against the banister like he’s auditioning for a calendar. He’d get the part. Probably July. No shirt.

“Would you mind helping her get settled?”