Page 20 of Feel It in the Air

6

GUS

“Is that her?”

“No.”

“You didn’t even look!” Anton chastises me, smacking my bicep with the back of his hand.

Sure didn’t. Just like I didn’t look the last time he asked ten seconds ago. Or the time before that. Or the three times prior to that. Because this isn’t the junior high cafeteria. Even though that’s exactly what it feels like at the moment.

“I’m starting to think he’s not going to tell us even if it is,” Jace mutters, popping a fry into his mouth.

I look up at him, tapping my nose, glaring at him and letting him know he’s spot-on. I have zero intention of letting him know if Margeaux walks into the cafeteria, for a number of reasons. Not the least of which is that I won’t subject her to whatever nonsense these clowns have up their sleeves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll point her out,” Milo says.

“Don’t you have a bar to run? Or mash that needs…mashing? Or brew that needs…” I trail off, not knowing how to finish that one. The mash was hard enough. Hell, I’m not even sure my verb choice there was accurate. Milo raises an eyebrow, in sync with the corner of his mouth, his trademark sass rolling off him in waves.

“Brewing?” he offers.

I flip him the bird, narrowing my eyes at him as he laughs. It’s rare he joins us for lunch on campus these days, his time spent over at the brewery not lending itself to the casual “you eat yet?” one of us usually tosses in the other’s direction somewhere in the middle of the day. Today was no different. At least until he showed up. And there’s no doubt he’s here for one reason—and one reason only. He’s itching for a repeat of the other day.

“We haven’t had lunch all together in a while. Thought it’d be fun,” he says, winking at me.

“We lunch every Monday. And most Sundays at Magnolia Manor.”

I toss out the reminder of Sunday dinner at our parents’, just in case he’d somehow also forgotten the other family meal we attend on a semiregular basis. That one is less structured than Munch, and thanks to life getting in the way, we tend to rotate in and out more than our Mama, Miss Belle, would like, but we still see each other as a family plenty. No need for spontaneous quality time.

“Not in the Hayes caf we don’t,” Anton points out. “It’s like old times.”

Uggggh…

“That her?” Jace asks.

“That’s Morgan Russell,” I grind. “You’ve known her since kindergarten.”

Jace shrugs. “Never know.”

For the love…

I pull out my phone, needing some kind of distraction. Keeping it hidden under the table, I open up my texts, reading through my exchange with Margeaux from last night. As far as text exchanges go, it wasn’t anything glamorous or even all that exciting. Hell, it didn’t even last that long. Still, my heart skipped a beat every time her name popped up on the screen.

My thumbs ache to text her, but I don’t want to overstep. It was hard enough last night keeping it friendly and light, asking about her day and how work went, rather than sending her my address. Or asking if I could come pick her up. It’d be even worse now, interrupting her actual workday. I know how focused she is on her career and making a name for herself. One more thing that makes her so damn irresistible.

Last thing she needs is me interrupting her.

“Couldn’t help but notice how old Airport Bar Angel is…” Milo comments, pulling my attention back to the group.

“Margeaux. Her name is Margeaux.”

I try to keep my voice even and calm, but I fail. Because there is no denying that stutter of my pulse each time I say her name. And I know my brothers hear it.

“Oh God,” Anton says, his interest clearly even more piqued. Damn it, we need to get him a hobby. “Is she old? Tell me she’s not old.”

“She’s thirty-one,” I snap.

Same age as our sister…