Page 76 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

Mell nods, taking another bite of her pancakes. She reaches for my note cards, pointing them at me. “Totally fair, and I promise, as your BFF, I won’t let that happen. But for now, tell me about the uses of ciprofloxacin.”

22

MILO

“Have you heard about the rising political tensions between yogurt and penicillin?” Brenna asks.

I give her a sideways glance, trying to be nonchalant, but she doesn’t even notice me. Probably better that way. Still, I keep my ears perked as I sip my Party Mode, waiting for the rest of her joke.

“One’s probiotic, while the other’s antibiotic. They’re calling it a culture war.”

She sticks the landing perfectly, and I do my best to hold back my laugh, not wanting to give away my eavesdropping. Ewan groans, shaking his head, but I have no doubt he’ll be tucking that one away to add to his dad joke collection.

“Shit, she’s as bad as you are,” Gus comments, his own beer hovering at his lips.

I throw a look to my left, the large dinner table on our parents’ back porch separating us. My older brother’s dark features, paired with his semi-permanent grumpy expression, make him look older than he is today, and I wonder if something is eating at him. Gus has always been the serious one, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he doesn’t need to, and it worries all of us that it’s going to catch up with him sooner rather than later.

I lift one shoulder carelessly, liking that he thinks that about Brenna and me. Maybe a little too much. I shift in my seat, turning so I can watch Brenna, who is settled into one of the Adirondack chairs on the far side of the deck, deep in conversation with Ewan and Willa. She looks beautiful in her long, flowy sundress, even if it does hide her legs.

More important than how beautiful she is, is how at ease she is. Like this is any other Sunday. To be fair, in some ways, it is. Hanging out with my family isn’t new for her. But hanging with my family as something other than Brandt’s sister is. Even if whatever that something is remains undefined. Today might be a lower-key afternoon—with Anton, Jace, and Nash helping Anton’s best friend, Cary Adler, Hayes’s chief horticulturist, in the groves since it’s the height of peach season—but that doesn’t change that she didn’t bat an eye when I mentioned coming here today.

“This is…real, huh?” he asks, keeping his voice low enough so only we can hear.

“No, it’s make-believe,” I quip, rolling my eyes.

“No, I…I mean…” he stammers. He leans, then swallows hard, as if he’s trying to find the right words so he doesn’t offend me. “I thought you said there was nothing there.”

I did. I did say that. I lied when I said that, but I did indeed say that. Taking a long drag of my beer, I search for a response, one that will satisfy my older brother. The guy who told me to end it.

The sliding door opens, and for a second, I think maybe I’m saved. Until I look over and realize that the person walking out and joining us at the table is the brother who told me that best friend’s little sisters are bad news.

Great. Just fucking great.

“There wasn’t. Now maybe there is.”

There. That’s an answer. We’ll go with that.

“There is what?” Hux ask, cracking open a Sob Story.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Gus continues.

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

I stare at him pointedly, trying to make it clear that I don’t give a damn what he thinks. He should know this by now. We’ve been brothers for thirty-eight years, and in all this time, I can probably count on one hand the number of instances that I cared what he thought.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but Gus and I are not exactly aligned when it comes to lifestyle choices. Hence why he’s Hayes’s Executive Vice President and heir apparent, and I brew beer.

“Nope, but you’re gonna get it. Because as your boss⁠—”

“Not my boss,” I remind him.

“As EVP, Southern Brothers falls under me,” he chides. “Should this cause a rift, it’s not just with your best friend, but your business partner.”

Thank you, August, I am aware of whose sister she is…

“Ohhhhh…” Hux mutters.

“Are you done being the harbinger of joy? I’d hate for us to be having too much fun in this conversation. Might make the others jealous and ruin the whole afternoon.”