Page 6 of Always Sunny


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I sense a presence in the doorway, and I still, glancing over my shoulder. Ian leans against the frame. A chunk of out-of-place hair dips down between his dark, thick eyebrows, and he grins with a smile that’s reminiscent of the teen boy I used to strum guitars with in this very room.

“You keep your Gibson here?” I ask, surprised mostly because he rarely comes home.

“Didn’t have too much time to mess with it in med school.” He shrugs and steps forward. The mattress dips when he sits close. “I’m not sure I remember how to play.”

“I bet you do. It’s muscle memory.” Voices drift down the hall, but the distance blurs the sharpness of their speech into indiscernible tones. “You’re not a resident now, right? You should bring it back with you.”

“Only if you promise to visit.” He’s probably completely unaware of how sexy his grin is, or the effect it has on women. “I could use some lessons.”

The eyebrow wiggle is full of innuendo, and yeah, I can’t help my grin and the heat surfacing all over my skin, but this is Ian. A shameless flirt. Too young, and my ex’s brother. Good things to remember.

I turn my attention back to the lady in my hands. For me, playing the guitar soothes. It’s meditative and feels so much healthier than watching TV or, god forbid, scrolling through social media and witnessing all the better lives out there. I dip my head and strum.

“Do you still have a horse?”

My fingers still and flatten against the strings. “Yeah.” I give him a big smile. “Believe it or not, I’ve still got Polly.”

Ian’s mouth gapes open in shock, and I laugh.

“No way. That horse has to be…”

“Thirty-nine,” I fill in for him. “She and I are the same age. She’ll be forty next month. She’s a Capricorn, like you.”

“I didn’t know horses lived that long.”

“Well, she’s lost most of her vision, and I don’t ride her anymore. Her vet bills are getting…” I scrunch my lips and widen my eyes.

“High?” he supplies.

“Steep. If Dad were alive, he’d probably be talking about putting her down, but there’s no way. I’ll go broke before I do that. Unless she gets to where she’s in pain, then I’ll do whatever I can for her. But she’s got a nice life. She knows her paddock, and she whinnies for me every evening. An apple or a carrot makes her day.”

I return my attention to the strings, thinking about the mix of carrots and oats I served Polly this morning. I should’ve probably added some maple syrup for a special treat.

“What’re you doing for New Year’s?”

The heat rising along my neck reaches an unbearable level, and I set the guitar down. I lift the sweater over my head and place it behind me on the bed. My hands are clammy.

“Sorry. I was baking in that sweater. Ahm, New Year’s.” I scratch my forehead. It’s not far away, but my plans aren’t firm. “I doubt I’ll do anything. There’s a big party that Oliver, Noah, and Liam are going to. But they all have dates.” Being the seventh wheel holds no appeal.

“You don’t have a date?”

“No.” I halfway smile at his funny question. Dating and me are on the backburner.

“Come to Houston,” he says.

“What?” It’s out of my mouth before I process what he’s saying.

“Yeah. Come to Houston. I’m going out with a buddy of mine.” His fingers run through his thick locks, and they settle into disarray. “We don’t have dates. We’re planning on going to a jazz club. It’ll be low key, but fun. Besides, you owe me, Sunny. You’ve been promising to visit for ages.”

I narrow my eyes as I consider this offer from the youngest of the three Duke boys. He’s always been thoughtful. Inclusive. “You know, you’re the only one who calls me Sunny.”

“I think you’ll always be Sunny to me.” His long, dark lashes flutter, and my gaze settles on his brown eyes. Brown with flecks of gold.

“And Oliver will always be Ollie?” That’s the name we called Oliver as a kid, and I think Ian’s also the only one, besides maybe Patty, who refuses to let the nickname go.

“Hell, yeah,” Ian says with a grin. “You can’t go changing your name after you go off to college and expect your family to go along with it.”

We grin at each other, and his offer hangs in the air. “If you’re serious…”

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