Page 103 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Spinning on my heel, I head for the door, slamming it behind me.

29

MILO

Exhibitionism has never been on my to-do list. Performing for an audience of any kind has never been my thing.

Especially an audience of my best friend. With his sister.

I drag my hand along the back of my neck, already feeling the tension building under the skin. Of all the ways this could have gone down, that was probably the worst. Meaning the conversation going on upstairs is more than a little tense.

Fuck.

I flip over one of the chairs from a four top table, looking over toward the swinging door that leads to the storeroom and our loft. For the umpteenth time since they headed up there, I consider joining them, torn on if that would make things better or worse. On the one hand, I want to support Brenna—we’re both involved in this. We’re in this together. On the other, she’s a grown woman who can fight her own battles, and I don’t want her to think I think otherwise.

Then again, I don’t want her to think I am throwing her to the wolves, either.

Fuck…

“Hey!” Gus calls out, walking into the warehouse.

“Hey,” I answer back absentmindedly, my brain still focused on how pissed my best friend was.

In all the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen that look on his face. And I do mean never. Not when Paul Russell beat him in the seventh grade science fair. Not when Sarah Dugan dumped him for Ryan Fox two weeks before junior prom. Not even when we accidentally backed his car into the wood pile with the passenger door open, causing said door to fold the wrong way and fall off shortly after college graduation. Hell, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you it wasn’t possible.

Shows you what I know.

“Bronwyn said the first mockups are ready for the new beer label.”

“Yeah.”

Maybe Brenna’s calmed him down…

Gus points to the folder still on the bar, the artwork peeking out.

“That it?”

“Yeah.”

Although he looked ready to kick my ass…

“Dude.” He smacks my arm with the back of his hand, bringing me back down to earth. “What’s with you?”

I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. If only it were that easy.

Following him over to the bar, I hand him the folder, slumping against one of the stools.

“Brandt’s back.”

There. Nice simple answer.

My brother looks at me quizzically. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“Didn’t realize he was coming back early.”

“He was due back this weekend. So what’s a couple of days? And where is he?”

I swallow hard. “Upstairs. With Brenna.”