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With a long-suffering sigh, Luke scooped up the skateboard. “I warned him that if he left this lying around again, it was mine for a week.” He quickly stashed it in the garage while Dean made his way into the living room, sitting down in one of the comfy armchairs.
“Beer?” asked Luke when he returned, heading straight for the fridge.
A creeping wariness made its way through Dean. Was this a conversation that required beer? Just how big a favor was Luke about to ask of him? Jeez, maybe he needed a kidney or something, and he thought because they were cousins, they’d have a better chance of being a match. Granted, he probably wouldn’t be giving him beer—or drinking one himself—if he needed a kidney, and he’d said what he had to ask him was about the wedding, but . . .
Dude. Focus.
“Yeah, sure,” he answered, smiling his thanks when Luke handed him a bottle of Goose Island.
Luke sat down on the couch across from him and grimaced, as though not sure where to begin. “So, this is awkward,” he finally said after a minute, his hands clasped in front of him, his forearms balanced on his knees. “But Christie and I are a little worried.”
Dean frowned, his grip tightening on his beer bottle. “Is everything okay? With the wedding?”
Luke cleared his throat and silence filled the room. A plane flew by in the distance. A car horn honked. Ethan laughed at something upstairs. Luke rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, glancing down at the floor.
Dean leaned forward, his curiosity giving way to worry and the sinking sensation that he wasn’t going to like where this was headed. But shit if he had a clue what it could be about. “Dude, whatever it is, just lay it on me. It’s fine.”
Luke looked up and Dean shot him a smile, trying to reassure him, even though he was starting to feel like he’d been dragged into the principal’s office.
Luke blew out a long breath. “Christie and I have been talking,” he said, knitting his fingers together. “And I know it’s short notice, but we’d really like it if you brought someone to the wedding. To Mexico.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. Not what he’d been expecting. He’d RSVP’d long ago, and even though his invitation had included a plus-one, he’d planned on going solo. “Well, I’m not seeing anyone right now, so that might be tricky.” Truth be told, Dean saw a lot of women, but not in any official capacity. Never in a let’s-go-to-Mexico-together capacity.
Luke opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly searching for the right words. “Right. But you’re . . . Shit.” He cleared his throat and scratched at his temple. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but we’re worried about how you’ll behave in Mexico,” he said all in a rush, as though ripping off a verbal Band-Aid. “With the bridesmaids, and Christie’s friends.”
An emotion he couldn’t name washed over him. Not shame, exactly, but it was on the same spectrum. Indignation? Maybe that was the right word.
Before Dean could respond, Ethan bounded down the stairs and sent a curious glance Dean’s way. Then he looked at his dad and shrugged. “His pants look zipped to me.”
Luke’s face went red. “Go do your homework.”
“I’m getting a snack,” he said, completely oblivious. “Have you seen my skateboard?”
“I have. It was in the middle of the front hallway, not put away like I asked you. You’ll get it back next week.”
Ethan’s small face tightened. “But Dad! I can’t believe you—”
Luke cut him off with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” he challenged, his voice flat. “Choose your next words carefully.”
Ethan sighed, his shoulders slumped. Without further argument, he headed back toward the fridge.
Dean let out a little laugh and shook his head, entirely unsure how to feel about the situation and grateful for Ethan’s temporary distraction. Apparently, Luke and Christie had been talking about him, and his perceived inability to keep his pants zipped. He knew he had a bit of a reputation, but . . . shit.
The entire first floor of Luke and Christie’s house was open concept, and another silence settled over the room as Ethan rummaged around in the fridge for what felt like an eternity. The front door opened and closed.
“Luke, honey?” called Christie from the front hall. Luke rose from his spot on the sofa and went to greet his fiancée, returning to the kitchen with several grocery bags and setting them down on the counter. Ethan went back upstairs, two cartons of yogurt, an apple, and a granola bar in hand. The kid was growing like a weed. Every time Dean saw him, he seemed to have gained yet another inch.
“Oh, Dean. Hi,” said Christie, her Southern accent stretching the vowels out. She glanced between Luke and Dean, the question obvious on her face.
Luke sat back down, and Christie perched on the arm of the sofa beside him. She laid a hand on her fiancé’s shoulder and nodded encouragingly at him.
“I feel like a shit, Dean, but we’d like you to bring a date to the wedding so that your focus isn’t . . .” Luke shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Elsewhere. We’ll pay for the extra ticket.”
“And just so we’re all on the same page here, focus means dick, right?” Dean cringed, the words sounding more bitter than he’d intended. He took a long pull on his beer and shook his head. He let out a short laugh, trying to dispel the strangling mix of emotions making it harder for him to breathe. The surprise, the hint of shame, the irritation, all combined with the sense that they were blowing his reputation with women way out of proportion. Even worse was the tiny seed of doubt that maybe they weren’t. “Come on, guys. Really? You seriously think I’d chase women at your wedding?” But even as he asked the question, he knew that he probably would. Even when he didn’t mean to, it just sort of . . . happened. He’d been doing it for so long that it was a habit now.
Christie let out a little laugh as she rose from the couch and knelt down in front of Dean, taking one of his hands in hers. Shit. Whatever came next was gonna suck, wasn’t it?
She bit her lip before diving in. “Dean, honey, we love you, and we’re happy you’re coming to the wedding. But . . .” She shrugged. “You’re kind of a manwhore, and the last thing I want at my wedding is drama because you slept with someone, or several someones. Especially seeing as the pretty, single someones are my friends and family.”
