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“Absolutely not,” he jests, moving from my hold and starting towards the lounge. “Bailey, however, was about to blow a coronary thinking you’d miss her birthday party.”
“Isn’t the party Saturday? It’s only Monday, why is she stressing?”
“You know what she’s like.” He shrugs. “Worried you’d forget all about her birthday. How is it you’re the favourite brother despite being an ass ninety percent of the time?”
I smirk. “What can I say? Everyone loves me.”
“Not everyone,” he sings, throwing himself on the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table. “In fact, I’m pretty sure one current resident of this household ran away to hide the moment she heard your car pull up on the drive.”
Rolling my eyes, I toss a pillow at him, then slump into the armchair facing the television. There’s some Christmas chick flick gracing the screens, no doubt chosen by Ry and Bails before I got here as they sipped what looks to be two bottles of wine between them.
“When you gonna admit it, bro?” Eli asks. His gaze burns into my profile, but I ignore him, watching as some dude falls to his knee in a snow-filled garden and pulls a black velvet box from his pocket. “Seriously, Chase. You can’t still be living in the land of denial when it comes to her. You’ve been jonesing after Ryan forten years. Surely, it’s time to man up and do something about it.”
“Mind your business, Eli, and stay out of mine.”
“Okay, touchy. I’ll keep my lips sealed.” He laughs, miming a zipping motion at his mouth when I flick my gaze to him. “For now, anyway.”
With a huff, I peel myself from the chair and head to the wide glass windows that lead out to the patio. “I really need to stop hanging out with all you dickheads.”
3
Ryan
Thewoodcreaksundermy feet as I approach the swinging lounge chair on the far side of the porch, overlooking the firepit. I place my laptop gently on one of the soft green cushions and take a seat. After setting it to gently swing, I tuck my feet beneath me and take a generous sip from the overfilled wine glass Bailey thrust into my hand, then load up my emails.
Sifting through them, I flag the most important, promising myself I’ll start working on them tomorrow, before finding the one I’m most eager to open.
I pull my buds from the pocket of my Oodie, stuff them into my ears, and turn the volume up to full before clicking on the link.
With a wide grin, I sink down into the swing, losing myself in the music. If someone had told me three years ago I’d be listening to a song I produced, I’d have never believed it. The industry is full of immense talent, and I’m a tiny tadpole in a sea of sharks. But here I am.
It’s a little insane.
My stomach flutters in excitement, a bubble of laughter exploding from my throat as the joy overcomes me. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite like this.
Well, if you don’t count—
Nope. Not going there, Ryan.
Though not going there feels mighty impossible when a heavy weight settles onto the swing beside me, an even heavier-feeling arm resting on the back behind my head.
If I don’t give him any attention, maybe we can avoid the confrontation I’m sure he’s eager for, at least until tomorrow … or the day after never, if I have any say in it. What happened happened, and we’re perfectly good friends still. No need in letting this cottage dredge up old memories.
I press play on the song again, hoping like hell he’ll take the hint and bugger off. But if there’s one thing I know about Chase Brooks, it’s that he does what he wants, when he wants, fuck the consequences.
Instead of leaving, he seems to make himself more at home. He leans closer into me, his fingers splaying near my nape. While he may not be touching me, I can feel every inch of him as if he were. Heat radiates off his large frame, wrapping around me like a blanket, and my breaths shallow as it penetrates through me, sinking to places it shouldn’t.
With his free hand, he pulls a bud from my ear, his fingertips sending a shiver through me as they graze the lobe before tucking a loose strand of hair behind it. I close my eyes, holding a breath as he leans in further, his minty breath fanning my face and flooding my senses when he presses his lips to my cheek.
Not quite a kiss, but not nothing either.
“Ry,” he says, his voice deep and gruff like he’s just woken up from a deep sleep—not that I let myself remember what that sounds like,obviously. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I’m pretty sure you came out here to find me, so I’m not sure what’s so fancy about it,” I croak, steeling my shoulders and flicking my gaze to his.
Biting my tongue, I force down the groan that threatens to escape the moment my eyes lock on the deep brown depths in his gaze.
Where Eli and Bailey are light and fair, Daisy is in the middle—with medium-dark brown hair and pale skin, somewhat reminiscent of Snow White—and Chase … Chase is the complete opposite.
