Page 104 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Okay, so—” The realization hits him before he says it. “Y’all never got around to telling him, did you?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Gus’s eyes go wide as the color drains from his face. I nod, letting him come to his own conclusions. It’s really best if I don’t have to say anything here.

“What’s up!” Hux’s voice carries, echoing off the walls. I don’t know if it feels more intense because of the moment, or if he’s somehow honed a new technique, but whatever it is, I can feel it in my bones.

“Your timing is horrible, Hux,” Gus comments.

“Better than Brandt’s,” I quip, unable to help myself.

It’s the truth. Maybe I should be glad that I was only tongue fucking her on our bar rather than actually fucking her in my bed, but right now, I’m not sure that splitting those hairs makes much of a difference. That’s not a position any brother wants to find his sister in.

Certainly not one I would want to find Willa in.

Especially not with someone I was unaware she was seeing.

Who was supposed to be looking out for her. Taking care of her.

If he only knew how I feel about her…

“Huh?” Hux questions.

I suck in a long, hard breath. Time to come clean. At least it’s only these two.

“Brandt came back early and walked in on Brenna and me.”

“Doin’ what?” Hux asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Gus and I both shoot him a look. Gus’s is more condemning than mine, but both of us are asking the same silent question. Really?!

“I had her up on the bar.”

“Doin’ what?” he asks again, same instigating tone.

For fuck’s sake…

“Let’s just assume they weren’t sayin’ their prayers, shall we?” Gus retorts.

I snicker. “I mean, God’s name was evoked…”

“Thatta boy!” Hux gives me a high five, his muscular tattooed bicep flexing.

Gus rolls his eyes, as if he can’t believe the two of us would resort to such behavior. To be fair, these two are probably the only people in the world I’d make such a comment to. Well, them and Brandt. If such a comment wasn’t being made about his sister.

Shit…

Hux starts to ask another question, presumably about Brandt’s reaction to the whole thing, but the sound of the swinging door from the back storeroom slamming against the wall startles us. All three of us turn in unison toward the sound.

Brenna marches across the taproom, anger radiating off her in waves. Her fists are balled at her side, moving back and forth in time with her legs launching her across the room. If she were a cartoon, there would be steam pouring out of her ears and nostrils, the train whistle sound following her.

My heart lurches, stomach churning as I watch. I’m paralyzed for a second, unable to move from the heartache of her being in this pain. Knowing that in some way I caused it. Even if it is from a fight with her brother, that fight was because of me.

Or I assume it was.

“Brenna!”

Adrenaline rushes through me, helping me break through the paralysis. I stumble, my first few steps a lot more awkward than they should be.