Page 201 of Checking Out the Librarian

Brand. Not who Connor would have chosen to bump into at the beer garden, although maybe he wasn’t the dead last choice in the county—that would be Brand’s father, the pulpit bigot—but sometimes shit happened on a summer Saturday night.

Fuck, he was making up bad country lyrics in his own head.

“Lot of beers. Some for the ladies, huh? You sitting with Jess and her girls? Get ’em nice and happy, then get what you want.”

Before Connor could suggest he fuck off, Brand grabbed the plastic cup of iced tea and one of the beers, leaving Connor to maneuver the other three drinks.

Right, he’d always had a thing for Connor’s sister. Couldn’t get it through his head that Jess would prefer ring worm over him.

“Who’s that with them?”

Brand must have spotted Jonathan’s dark hair, which Connor realized was cut in a way that someone who considered hairstyles to be gender-specific could think was feminine.

From the back, Jonathan’s shoulders weren’t much different from Jess’s, not obviously masculine. And when he leaned across the table to listen closely to something Hannah said, his waist looked tiny in those tight jeans with the red shirt tucked in close to his ribs.

The curve of his spine dipped deep, its slope leading Connor’s eyes, and probably Brand’s too, to the peach of his ass that popped on the bench.

“That’s my date.”

Guess the beer he’d already drunk wanted to mess with Brand, and the guy hadn’t noticed Connor’s collar tips even though he’d expected Jonathan’s gift to be a flashing neon sign. So be it. The guy had been a whiner in baseball, a nasty fouler in basketball, and always used too much spur when he raced. The beer could do what it wanted.

“Getting some then, Smack?” Brand snickered.

Connor said nothing.

They started across the crowded beer garden.

“Chinese pussy, huh? What’s that like? Bet it’s tighter than white girls.”

He didn’t bother to conceal his disgust. “Don’t be a racist asshole.”

“Just joking, man.” Brand’s face twisted, not a flattering look.

“Don’t. It’s gross, not funny.”

Connor rotated sideways to slide between people and arrived three steps ahead of Brand. He put the beers down and brushed his hand across Jonathan’s shoulder, letting him know where he stood as he eased into Jonathan’s blind spot. No one would get behind Jonathan but him.

“Jeeeh-ssss, been missing you.“ Brand was talking before he reached the table, trying, as always, to grab the spotlight.

He put the beer he carried in front of Jess and slid the tea onto the table without looking away from Connor’s sister, who returned his leer with a curled lip, but no greeting.

“You should go, Brand.” Connor took a sip of his own beer but didn’t sit. He didn’t want to be lower than Brand, wasn’t going to let Jonathan’s back be exposed.

And then Brand looked at the rest of the people at the table.

“What the hell?”

Brand reared away from the end of the bench where he must have intended to settle.

“That’s a guy.” He glared at Connor. “You said it was your⁠—”

“Date. I said he’s my date.” He took another sip. “Jonathan’s my boyfriend.”

That word tasted even better than his beer.

“You’re a⁠—”

Connor watched with what was probably the closest he’d ever come to living in slow motion as Brand’s lips closed, the edge of his teeth barely grazing his curled-in lower lip, and he saw the tiniest puff of Brand’s cheeks like he was about to breathe out the first letter in a short word.