Page 40 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“It is if you’re ditching us for some girl,” Gus states.

“Brenna’s not some girl!” I snap. The response is out of me in a nanosecond and significantly more terse than I expected. All of my brothers look at me, most of them with eyebrows raised, waiting on an explanation.

It’s the truth though. Brenna is not “some girl.” And not just because she’s Brandt’s sister. She’s smart and funny and easy to be around. I can’t remember the last time I had as much fun with someone who wasn’t one of my brothers, or Brandt, as I did at the murder mystery night. Much less out with a woman. Not to mention hanging out with her at the apartment. And, believe it or not, for the first time in my life I’m excited about the Fourth of July town picnic. Because if there is anyone who could make all that bullshit fun, it’s Brenna.

“You like her, don’t you?” Willa pokes. She’s good at that. And considering the crap I gave her about Nash, can’t say I don’t deserve it.

“About as much as I like you,” I retort.

“You love me, so…”

Damn it…

“Brenna and I are friends,” I defend. “And, as her friend, I’m taking her on a date to the picnic. End of.”

I look around at the group, and it’s perfectly clear that not a single one of them believes me. Which tracks, because I don’t even believe myself. But liking Brenna—whatever that even means at thirty-eight years old—isn't the first inappropriate crush I’ve had. That was Carly Adams, Gus’s first girlfriend. I kissed her too, but all that got me was a knee to the balls from her and a black eye from Gus. Thirteen-year-old Milo learned that lesson quick.

“You spendin’ the whole day with her?” Auggie inquires.

“Yup. Parade, pancake breakfast,” I list, nodding at Hux, so he doesn't flip out over me trying to skip his best friend’s portion of the day. He and Dolly have been besties since the third grade, and even though they vow that they’re only friends, I can’t help but wonder if he’s in the same boat I am right now. Although, Dolly’s engaged to someone else, so slightly different boat. “Tug-o-war, the picnic, then we’ll find a place for fireworks.”

It’s a full day, but my heart is light thinking about it. It’s the perfect second date. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about the idea that I’m the one who gets to take her on her first second date. Which means it has to be special. Something that all the others will be compared to. So that she knows exactly how someone who values her is going to treat her.

“Take Fishy Business,” Auggie says, like it’s the most logical thing to suggest.

Which it’s not.

“What?”

My brain doesn’t have time to react to his words, my mouth working all on its own, spitting out my response. My brothers all have a very similar response, while Willa just smiles, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Fishy Business is the thirty-three-foot cabin cruiser that Auggie bought Miss Belle as a gift when Willa graduated from college, since they were officially empty nesters and all seven of us were on the legit Hayes payroll and not his personal one.

As far as yachts go, it’s small and rather unassuming, with enough room for all us to hang on it for a day, and a compact cabin that is barely big enough for the built-in table, seats, and bed. But it’s more than enough for the couple of times that my parents use it, which always includes the Fourth of July, so they can watch the fireworks from Silver Lake.

Another important note—none of us kids have ever been allowed to use it solo. Ever. Not once.

“Take Fishy Business,” he repeats. “It’ll be a good spot to cuddle up and watch those fireworks.”

Cuddle up and watch fireworks…yes, please…but wait…

“And you and Mama are gonna watch them…where?”

He waves me off. “We’ll find somewhere. Don’t you worry. Special girl deserves a special night.”

Yes, she does…

I open my mouth to respond, to try and defend that it’s not like that. Because it’s not. Sure, my dick wants it to be, but my head knows better. My heart…he hasn’t taken a side. Yet.

“Skipping the games and gets to use the sex boat…wow,” Jace mutters.

The room bursts into laughter, including Auggie, who doesn’t bother to correct him. Instead, our father just shakes his head, a knowing smirk taking over as he takes another bite of chicken. Which…is borderline TMI. I love that my parents are still very much in love after more than forty years of marriage and seven kids, but I don’t need any kind of confirmation about what they get up to. On that boat or anywhere else.

Time for a subject change.

“So, are we going to get to this agenda? I have a mash that needs attending to,” I prompt. “Or we might not have a new beer in time for Rhythm and Brews.”

One that still needs a damn name…