Summer Hamilton is an unusual combination.
“Excuse me, Rhett would never drink something like this.” I almost scoff out loud. The way Laura is talking like she knows me grates on my nerves.
Someone promptly takes away the drink and replaces it with a bottle of local brew. Something I like.
But within minutes, Bailey is back, looking like she’d rather run out the front door than face our table again.
“Your future wife sent this over. She said she knows how much you love chocolate milkshakes.” Then she darts away while I stare down at the creamy brown drink in a long-stem martini glass.
With an umbrella and cherry again.
These cherries are going to be the death of me. Somehow, my brain has connected them to the lipstick Summer wears, and the color isn’t even that similar. But it’s going there anyway.
It’s going other places too. Like how that mouth would look wrapped around my dick.
When I peer up at her this time, her big brown eyes flit in my direction, but she purses her lips and turns away, like she finds something distasteful about me.
Some guys at the table are having a real good laugh now. “Thought you didn’t like milk, Eaton?” one of the older men blurts out, and a smile tugs at my lips. At least these people don’t hate me for saying what I said. And as usual, their attention feels good. I roll my shoulders back and choose to ignore whoever is pulling the hilarious prank.
“This is ridiculous,” Laura hisses, rubbing my back like I’m upset. But I don’t get mad, I get even. And when I figure out who is getting a kick out of sending me these milky fucking messes, it will be game on.
“Bailey, darlin’, I don’t want this.”
She nods quickly and snatches it away before leaving us again.
Laura leans close, her lips brushing across my ear in a way that should be sexy, but makes me recoil as she whispers, “I’m so sorry someone is doing this to you. Mocking you like this. It’s been a tough week for you already.”
She’s not wrong about that. But she won’t be the factor that turns this week around either. Things aren’t going to turn around until I can ditch my babysitter once and for all—even if she isn’t following me around like I thought she might.
I don’t throw Laura any bones, but I don’t push her away either. Even if I’m not remotely interested, I don’t want to be rude. So, I tip my beer bottle in her direction before taking a swig.
“All good. I’m a big boy.”
She smiles suggestively, reading an innuendo that isn’t there, and I take another swallow. Because that was not how I intended for it to come out.
With a wink, she slides her hand up to play with the ends of my hair. “I’ve heard.”
And that is why I don’t hook up with women in this town anymore. I had one casual girlfriend before I learned my lesson. You get a blowjob from someone in Chestnut Springs and the next thing you know, it’s in the newspaper, and the ladies at the salon are planning a fucking wedding. No, I keep that shit on the road where it belongs.
When I come home, I want privacy.
My eyes flit up to where my brother is sitting, and this time, I’m met with all three of them staring back at me. When they catch me looking, Summer and Beau quickly glance down and reach for their drinks.
Jasper grins at me from beneath the brim of his cap. The guy is quiet and doesn’t smile that much. He gives thoughtful pauses and one-word answers until you get a few drinks into him. They say goaltenders are a different breed, and in Jasper’s case, that’s true. I should know, we grew up with the guy.
And more than anything, it gets me wondering why he’s staring at me like the fucking Cheshire Cat. It’s creeping me the hell out. The way it slowly widens further as his eyes drop to the table in front of me.
I glance over in time to see Bailey hustling away. This time, she didn’t even say anything. Just dropped the drink and ran. Can’t say that I blame her.
“Is that. . .” Laura looks offended, like someone just called her mother a whore.
The clear glass mug is one typically used for speciality coffee. But the liquid inside is solid white. It’s topped with whipped cream.
And a fucking cherry.
When I touch the side, it’s warm. Not hot. Warm, like I’d make hot chocolate for Luke.
“Is that warm milk?” Laura’s voice is shrill, and I hear snickering from around the table, but I don’t address them.
Instead, I tear my eyes away from the whipped cream melting down the sides of the mug, making a colossal mess, and peer up at the couches in the back.
Jasper is still staring at me, but this time, his hand is thrown over his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter. Beau, the cocksucker that he is, has flopped back on the couch, like this is the funniest joke in the world.
Spoiler alert: it’s not.
I just lost a huge sponsorship over milk, and these dickheads are sitting around sending me warm milk. I almost shudder at the thought.
But it’s Summer that really gets me. She’s sitting there looking perfectly put together, perfectly smug. Legs crossed in the most lady-like way with the chocolate milk martini I sent back in her hand. She holds it up to me in a silent “cheers” and then plucks the cherry off the top and wraps her lips around it.
And then I’m moving across the bar. Storming up toward them. Half amused and half pissed off that these fucking traitors are playing tricks on me with the woman whose presence they know I don’t like. It seems like they’re taking her side when it’s me they’ve known their entire lives. Am I having a minor internal temper tantrum over it?
Maybe.
I’ve always been the joke in this family. The one that gets poked fun at. The one nobody takes seriously.
“Rhett, you forgot your warm milk,” Jasper says as I approach. Beau makes some honking noise as he tries, and fails, to keep himself from bursting out laughing. He always has been the giddy, lighthearted one of us. Which is fucking wild considering he’s JTF2, Canada’s top special forces unit.
“No, no, no.” Beau gasps for air. “He’s coming up here because he wants the White Russian instead.”
I shake my head. The corners of my mouth tilt up, even though I’m working hard to keep them down. “You guys are such fucking losers.” I prop my hands on my hips and stare up at the ceiling where an ornate brass chandelier hangs, completing the upscale country vibe this place has taken on under new ownership.
“Shouldn’t talk to your future wife that way,” Jasper bites before snorting and barking out another laugh.
Their laughter is infectious, and I’m trying to not let it overtake me. I don’t want to find this funny. But if there was ever a person who could give me the giggles, it would be Beau. And right now, he is unhinged.
I peek down at Summer. Her wide, sparkling eyes looking up at me are downright disarming. She’s trying not to laugh, and I’m trying not to get a boner from staring at her mouth. It’s a fucking struggle for us both.
“Was this your idea?”
“No.” She huffs outs a laugh, her composure finally cracking as a pink stain spreads out over her cheeks. “Not even a little bit. I am an innocent bystander.”
I regard her with a raised brow, not entirely sure if I believe she wasn’t playing a part in this. She already seems to be amused by my suffering, so I’m not sure why she’d draw the line here.
Plus, the fact that I can’t stop staring at her gorgeous face makes me feel like she isn’t innocent in my frustration at all.
“Hey now,” Jasper interjects with his raspy tone before taking a big swig of his beer. “Don’t pick on Summer. The warm milk was my idea. That was more fun than I’ve had in ages.”
Beau slaps his knee and wheezes. “You should have seen your face!”
I shake my head and let out a chuckle that rumbles in my chest.
“I’m going to get you back for this,” I say, but my eyes dart back to Summer’s face. And then she nods, dropping my gaze for a moment as the shadows from her lashes fan across the apples of her cheeks. She looks almost shy, not smug at all.
Not what I expected.
With a deep sigh, I turn and kick Jasper’s boot. “Shove over, asshole.”
I flop down beside our childhood friend and feel immediately more at ease than I did at that other table—even with my lush-lipped babysitter princess here.
Then I reach forward and swipe the White Russian off the table in front of me and take a big swig of it as I throw an arm over the back of the couch.
“Fucking delicious,” I announce with a cocky grin. Beau giggles like a schoolgirl all over again. Idiot. I roll my eyes at him and then turn my attention to Summer as I take another sip of the milky disaster in my hand. She’s smiling at me now.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I like her eyes on me.