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They both looked over as Char and Paige picked their way across the grass, sidestepping party debris with a skill that somehow only emphasized their femininity. Okay, fine, he wasn’t checking out how Char looked. His attention was 110% occupied on Paige. Riveted by the way she held up her playful sundress and wound her way to them, head held high. Eyes blazing a rich blue like that late-summer sky he’d just cursed.
On her, that color didn’t mock him. He wanted to fall into it and hear her laughter, feel her skin against his. Even if she was frowning at him. Why now, he couldn’t guess.
Obviously he was the world’s most colossal fuck-up.
“No bloodshed,” Charli said firmly, tucking her arm through her husband’s. “We have a honeymoon to go off on and I don’t intend for our pictures to include you with a shiner, Wade Bennett.”
Wade continued to stare hard at Colt.
“He can punch me. I won’t hit back.”
“Oh good, he’s feeling sorry for himself.” Char shook her head and sighed. “Seriously? Go soak your head in the gulch.”
“Fine.” He was already undoing buttons. Nothing set him back to rights better than a cool swim on a hot, ridiculous day. “You coming?” he asked Paige.
She blinked at him as if he’d asked her to run naked across the yard. “I have to go to work.”
“Suit yourself.”
He’d officially reached his limit on trying to make nice, and make amends, and even on making love. The last one was a temporary stoppage, he was sure.
All he wanted right then was some serious alone time. When he was on his own, at least no one could judge him and find him lacking. Other than himself.
When he’d unbuttoned the shirt halfway down his chest, he spared his brother and Char a glance. Linked together, they were the perfect couple. Far more perfect than he’d ever been with Char. “Have a good honeymoon,” he said before tipping his head at Paige.
She nodded at him without saying goodbye. Good. He hated goddamn goodbyes.
Then he headed off to the gulch to soak his head.
5
It had been a week. An entire week, and Colt was still being a royal jackass about the whole thing.
Drake leaned on his pitchfork and mopped his head with his bandanna. So far, trying to talk to his best friend about the situation with Paige hadn’t worked. That meant the time had come for desperate measures. Throwing a little jealousy into the mix never hurt either.
First, he had to try to find enough spit in his throat to talk to Colt one more time about everything he was so obviously avoiding.
If only he wasn’t so insanely hot.
Colt was baling hay in the unrelenting sunshine, his back muscles gleaming and stretching under his golden tan. He’d yet to take so much as a sip of the lemonade Miss Emmy, their receptionist and all-around office goddess, had prepared for them an hour earlier.
No, the jerk clearly wanted to end up in the hospital with heatstroke before the end of the weekend.
“How about taking a break?” he called, unsurprised when Colt didn’t so much as pause.
Guess he was going to have to take things up a notch.
He strode over to the pile Colt was working on and stabbed his pitchfork into the next bale. Colt glanced up at him with a look of pure malice.
“Got a problem?”
“Yes, I do. And his name’s Colt Bennett.”
Colt rolled his shoulders and sweat trickled down his pecs like an offering from the gods. Only sheer will kept Drake’s cock from hardening in his pants. “You’re supposed to be working, not bitching at me.”
“I’m done working and so are you. We’re going down to Pitchers tonight.”
“For what? The game tonight sucks. I’d rather just—”
