Page 77 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

My response is nastier than I intend. Then again, what he said to me wasn’t exactly kind. I get that he’s worried, although it might be nice if he was worried about me as a brother rather than an asset to his business. I also resent the fact that he assumes that I am unaware of the risk here. That it’s not just my feelings—my heart—that’s in play. That my longest friendship could be at risk.

A knot tightens in my chest—the one that resurfaces every time I think about this. Part of the reason I keep trying not to think about it. Something that is surprisingly easy when I’m around Brenna. Letting my eyes land on her now, her laugh settling in around me, I push that thought from my mind, replacing it with the memory of her draped across me this morning, the warmth of her body cocooning me, her breath tickling my skin.

I’d like to go back to that…

“Not to mention, twelve years is a hell of an age gap,” Gus comments.

Fuck, he cannot let this go.

“Like you fucking have room to talk,” Hux snaps. “Smudging phone numbers in airport bars.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Hux rolls his eyes. “He who can’t successfully save a hot girl’s phone number doesn’t get to give shit to he who…” he trails off, unsure how to finish the thought. Honestly, I’m curious myself. “Anyone. Doesn’t get to give shit to anyone.”

Nice save…

“Why can’t Gus give anyone shit?” Willa calls over from the chairs.

“Because he doesn’t know the difference between a 3 or an 8,” I remark.

“I know the difference.”

“Do you though?”

Pushing up from their chairs, Willa, Ewan, and Brenna make their way over to the table, joining us. Willa slides into the open seat next to Hux, a mischievous smile taking over, while Ewan silently plops into the spot on the very end. I reach out to Brenna, stopping her before she can sit down next to me. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I tug her into me, her giggle ringing out into the thick summer air, making my dick stiffen as she lands in my lap.

I can’t help but steal a kiss—partly because she’s so damn irresistible and partly to annoy Gus. She tastes as sweet as the peaches half my family is out harvesting, and it’s hard to stop, wanting more and more of her. That I have to save for later though.

“Have we told you that story?” I ask her as she pulls back.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Not that I know every Hayes story, but I think I’d remember a story about one of y’all struggling to learn your numbers.”

“Oh, this wasn’t a learning story,” Hux says. “This was last fall.”

“What?” Brenna’s eyes go wide, and she shifts in my lap to face my older brother. “Gus!”

“Oh, for the love!” Gus throws his hands up, his grumpiness showing.

Willa laughs, then launches into the story, more than happy to sell Gus down the river. Despite not being there, she doesn’t leave out a single detail about Gus’s adventure getting stuck in JFK airport last fall thanks to a thunderstorm. Granted, if anyone would know, it’s her, since his getting stuck meant that he didn’t make it back to Atlanta in time to help get Bronwyn to Hickory Hills as planned, but that’s a different story.

By the time she’s done, we’re all laughing—even Gus. Who has busted out the photo he took of the smudged phone number on his hand, showing it off to Brenna.

“To be fair, I’m not sure I would have thought about the pen smudging either,” she sympathizes.

“See!” Gus exclaims.

“Nope,” Hux says, taking a drink.

“Also, for what it’s worth, I think that’s a three, not an eight.”

I lean over her shoulder, taking another look at the photo. I agree with her, but I’m keeping that to myself, letting her opinion stand on its own. Last thing I need to do is give Gus any more ammo on the “Brenna is a bad idea” argument.

Squeezing her hip, I tickle her side. She wiggles in my lap, elbowing me playfully as her ass rubs against the semi I’m sporting. There’s no hiding it, so I know she felt it, and I wish I could see more than just her profile to know if her composure broke. It doesn’t look like it from this angle, but based on Willa’s smile, I have a sneaky expression it might have.

“Well, it’s a moot point now,” Gus says, his voice resigned. Brenna hands him back his phone, giving him a serene smile.

“What’s a moot point?” Miss Belle asks, breezing onto the deck, a serving platter in one hand and a jug of her famous sweet tea in the other.