Page 29 of Trick or Tease

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. I found myself clapping as well.

“So eat up,” Mom said. “Drink up, and dance badly to Jimmy’s band, because this is what life’s all about.”

“To good friends, good food, and making memories together,” Dad said, lifting his glass.

People raised their glasses back and cheered. Mom and Dad soaked in the love, emotion on their faces. The celebration was proof of two lives well lived. Would I get a similar party when my own retirement rolled around? Not likely.

Gratitude filled me. I was really glad my brother had dragged me back. I would have kicked my ass if I had missed this.

11

SABRINA

Icouldn’t help but sneak glances at Garrett as we moved along the buffet table, both of us piling plates high with barbecue ribs, coleslaw, and cornbread. He looked… well, he looked like he’d stepped out of some kind of country music video. It wasn’t fair.

His dark jeans hugged his legs just right, and that simple gray T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and flat stomach in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else. I’d always known he was good-looking, even back when we were younger, but seeing him now, all grown up, was something else entirely. The boy with potential had turned into a man who’d fully realized it, and it was impossible not to notice.

We grabbed a couple seats at an empty table. I took a bite of my ribs and the tangy sauce exploded on my tongue. It also dripped all over the tablecloth. Better than on my dress, though.

I kept attacking the rib like a lion going after a gazelle, distracting myself with food because if I kept staring at him, I was going to pounce on him next. Garrett took a bite of cornbread and groaned. And damn, his groaning set my panties on fire.

“I forgot how good real cornbread is,” he mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. “Holy shit.”

“Coming home ain’t all bad,” I said, mid rib. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Garrett laughed. “I’m not getting taught table manners by someone with that much barbecue sauce on her face.”

I snatched a napkin off the table and wiped at my face. The napkin came back clean, and I glared at him. “There was no sauce on my face, you liar.”

“Of course not,” he said. “You look great.”

My breath caught in my throat. His jaw was dusted with stubble, and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. My eyes dropped to his biceps. He wasn’t flexing, but when he reached for a napkin, I couldn’t help but look. It made me want to reach out and trace the lines of muscle with my fingers. Not that I would. I wasn’t about to let myself get caught up in some schoolgirl fantasy, especially not with Garrett Hogan of all people.

But damn, did he look good tonight, too.

“Thanks,” I said and tore my gaze away, focusing on my plate and pretending to be utterly engrossed in my food.

To be fair, the ribs were falling-off-the-bone tender, just the way I liked them, and therefore worthy of my undivided attention. But even their deliciousness couldn’t completely distract me from the man standing next to me. After dancing with him, his spicy cologne felt like it had been imprinted on me. Between his smell and the smoky scent of barbecue I was in sensory overload.

“You’re really going to town on those ribs,” Garrett said, glancing over at me with a smirk.

“Taste them before you judge me. Caroline nailed these bad boys.” I probably should have been embarrassed, but whatever. I was never going to be a dainty socialite. Good food was good food and life was too short to hold back.

“Fair enough. But you might want to slow down before you bite your own finger.”

I shot him a mock glare. “I’ll bite you if you keep that up.”

He grinned, and for a moment, it felt like old times. Like we were just two kids hanging out at a town event, teasing each other without a care in the world. But then I caught the way he glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the crowd with a mix of nostalgia and discomfort. And that warm and fuzzy moment passed.

Garrett didn’t belong here anymore, not really. He was too polished, too civilized, too different. Maybe he had never belonged.

He took a swig of his beer and immediately grimaced, setting the plastic cup down with a look of mild disgust. “Cheap beer,” he muttered, shaking his head. “No wonder I stopped drinking this stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“It’s terrible,” he insisted, glancing down at his plate of ribs. “And these ribs? They’re too tender. Falling off the bone like this isn’t how they’re supposed to be. It’s almost… mushy.”

I couldn’t help the eye roll. “Seriously? You’re complaining about ribs that are too tender? Most people would kill for ribs like these.”