Page 24 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“He did!” she defends. “You were still outside scrubbing the grill. He came into the kitchen as I was wrapping up the leftovers for him and gave me a big hug and thanked me.”

I nod. “Okay, then.”

“I can handle your family. I’ve been around them my whole life. The crazy looks a little different than before, but it’s not new.”

Very true…

“Besides, I’ve taken a Hayes-sponsored personal safety and self-defense class. So now I have been trained by the Hayes family to protect myself both verbally and physically.”

I throw my head back laughing. That’s quite the comeback—one I was not expecting. Then again, Brenna never had any problem defending herself when it came to all the crap we gave her.

“Good girl.”

I freeze. My mouth moved faster than my brain, spitting out a response that is now hanging in the air like a lead balloon. Although lead balloons wouldn’t really hang, would they? No, they would tank straight to the ground—much like my calling my best friend’s little sister a good girl.

Shit…

I can’t believe I just said that. Now she’s going to think I’m babying her. Treating her like a small child, when really, she’s an adult, fully capable of whatever she chooses.

Or worse, she’s going to think I’m hitting on her. Making this all sexual, when it’s not.

It can’t be.

Even if I did think about whispering that to her as I jerked off in the shower this morning. But that doesn’t matter—because we won’t be doing that again either.

"You know,” she says, shaking her head. “Anytime someone says that, all I can think of is that scene in Jurassic Park where the British guy is eye to eye with the raptor and goes ‘clever girl’ and then gets his face eaten off.”

Well, at least she didn’t think I was making it sexual…

“That’s a thought process.”

Brenna grits her teeth, smiling awkwardly, looking borderline embarrassed. “Yeah, thoughts I should probably keep to myself. And this is why I’ve probably never been on a second date.”

Brenna’s admission goes off like a bomb in my head. My whole body jerks as I turn to look at her, my hands taking the steering wheel with us. The truck swerves, Brenna letting out a squeak and grabbing the oh-shit handle as the back end fishtails.

I reach over, my reflexes kicking in to hold her in place, even though she’s wearing her seatbelt. My hand lands squarely on her boob though, making this moment even more awkward.

Great, now she’s going to think I’m trying to cop a feel…again…

Removing my hand, I correct us, straightening out the truck, my brain still trying to catch up.

Brenna’s never been on a second date?

Nope, not possible.

I blink hard, over and over again, trying to find a response. Because I can’t be flippant about this. This requires the caring, teddy bear side of a big brother. That I can do. I think.

I slow the truck, pulling over to the side of the road. I want to make sure that Brenna has my full attention, and that requires us to not be in motion. Or else we’re going to repeat my Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride impression from back there.

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that, please,” I say once we’re stopped.

“Every time I hear someone say good girl—” she starts.

“Not the part about the raptor eating Muldoon’s face off. The part about you never having been on a second date.”

“Oh,” she says, straightening up and letting go of the handle. “I’ve never been on a second date.”

The words are the same as they were the first time. That doesn’t make them make any more sense though.