She leans in to kiss me and I pull back, giving her a wry grin. “Yeah, you just had my brother's cock in your mouth,” I say. “No thanks.”
I can see something in her eyes – a flash of pain – that sends a small stab of guilt through me. She cares about me. Even still. I knew it when we were together, and that's why I cut things off in the first place. I didn't want the emotional entanglement then and I don't want it now.
She sniffs and straightens herself up, her face darkening. She's doing her best to not let me see the hurt in her eyes, instead putting on an irate mask of outrage. Which is fine. Whatever helps her cope with her emotional bullshit. I'll take the hits.
“You really are a prick, Milo,” she says.
I shrug. “Yeah, I know,” I say. “Shocking as it may seem, you're not the first to say that, and I'm sure you won't be the last. But then, I've never pretended to be anything else.”
She snatches her purse off the counter and follows the other two girls out, slamming the door behind them. My brothers walk over to the counter, each of them grabbing a beer, looking at me expectantly.
“You really did it, huh?” Zach says, his voice thick with skepticism.
“Yeah, I sure did,” I reply.
Q and Dalton exchange a look and then turn their eyes to me – obviously eager to see the proof. Proof I'm unsure that I want to show them, bet or no bet. All of us have talked about wanting to bang Bree Longstreet for ages. Hell, every warm-blooded man in town has probably wanted to fuck Bree Longstreet.
And why not? She's the gold standard in Folson Forge. The epitome of Southern charm, grace, and femininity. And a damn fine lay, if I do say so myself. There probably isn't a guy in town who hasn't jerked off to images of her running through his mind. Yeah, me included.
“We need to see the proof,” Zach says. “There's a lot of money on the table, so you'll forgive us if we don't just take your word for it.”
I shake my head. This whole bet was a stupid idea to begin with. Not that I'm going to complain about reaping the rewards, mind you. It all started a few weeks ago. We'd been here, drinking, as usual, and talking about girls. Bree's name was brought up, of course, and my brothers all bragged about how they had the best chance to bang her. I told them that none of them had a chance, that she was way out of their league, and that she needed a real man.
Zach had challenged me, betting me a thousand bucks that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't bed Bree Longstreet. Not to be outdone, Q and Dalton had also ponied up a thousand bucks each. Money aside, I felt a tremendous amount of pressure to seal that deal. My brothers and I have always been competitive – though, my competition with Zach is on another level than with the Q and Dalton. It's more primal. Much more intense and personal.
But then, given that I'm the eldest, Zach has that second child syndrome, knowing that he's second in line for everything. Once the old man gives up control of the family's bourbon empire, it will naturally fall to me. Oh, Zach will have a role in the company, but I'm going to be the man at the top of the totem pole.
That's just the way it works. And I know he can’t stand it. Probably even hates me for it. Because yeah, it's my fault. Ever since we were little, he's nurtured this inferiority complex and has pushed himself to do better and achieve more than me at virtually anything and everything. He's always come up short and finishes second to me in almost everything. Which, of course, only adds to his pool of anger and angst.
But, that's not my problem. That's his baggage to carry and sort out.
Zach is a lot more like our old man than he'll ever care to admit. Maybe even more than he realizes. Definitely more like our father than I am. Which is probably what is adding fuel to the fire that burns between us. Everything is a competition and this bet about Bree is no different.
The idea to make the video public and shame the Longstreet family naturally flowed from that. Well, from that and too much booze.
Not that I'd gotten to know her on a profound level or anything, but now that I've spent some time with Bree, I'm seeing things a little differently. There's something about her that's sweet and kind. She's feisty as hell and burns with this inner fire that I find incredibly alluring. Compelling. I was only with her a short time, but in those intimate moments, I found her to be utterly intoxicating.
And she doesn't deserve to be publicly shamed or humiliated like that.
“Okay, listen up,” I say, “I'll show you a bit of the video. But, it stays here. That video is not to be made public. Period. This is between us and us alone. Everybody got that?”
“That's not the plan –” Q starts.
“Plans change,” I growl.
“You can't just change the plan,” Dalton says. “We're supposed to use it against the Longstreets. That was the plan.”
“Like I said, the plan changed.”
“Why?” Q asks.
“Because I said so,” I say.
Zach starts to laugh and shakes his head. Q and Dalton look at him like he's lost his mind.
“What's so funny?” Q finally asks.
Zach looks at me, that smug smile on his lips. “He knows.”
Both of our younger brothers look to me and I just shrug. “I have no idea what he's talking about.”
“Right,” Zach replies.
“Zach, tell us,” Dalton says.
“Our big brother here,” Zach says, “has a crush on the Golden Girl of Folson Forge. That's why he doesn't want that video getting out.”
“That's bullshit,” I say.
Zach shrugs. “It's either that,” he says. “Or there is no video. In which case, you owe us each a grand.”
“There's a third option you're not considering,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” Zach smirks. “What's that?”
“That I'm not as big of an asshole as you three and am not comfortable ruining an innocent girl’s reputation and life,” I say.
“Oh, but you'll fuck her,” Zach says.
“That's different,” I say.
“But, she's a Longstreet,” Q says.
“Yeah,” Dalton chimes in. “She's a Longstreet.”
Anger surging within me, I slam my fist down on the counter, rattling the bottles. My brothers all look at me, eyes wide. I'm the oldest of the Sheridan boys, so my word is law. That's the way it's always been and how it's always going to be. And right now, I'm tired of these shitheads questioning my word.
“I don't give a fuck if she is a Longstreet,” I say. “This video does not see the light of day beyond these walls. Period. Am I in any way, unclear?”
Q and Dalton shake their heads. As the youngest – eighteen and nineteen respectively – they still live in fear of me a bit. Zach, only a year younger than I am, has lost some of that fear, though he still abides by my word – albeit grudgingly. It's family tradition – and one the old man takes seriously – after all.
“Are we clear?” I ask.
“Clear,” Q says.
“Crystal,” Dalton says.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever,” Zach says, his smirk not fading in the slightest. “I think it's kinda sweet though – your crush on her.”
There's part of my mind screaming at me to not do this. To not show them the video. But, there is no way in hell I'm going to let Zach think he got the better of me. At anything. I started this, so now it's time to finish it.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say and hand my phone over to Quentin. “Go hook this up to the computer.”
Q takes the phone and scampers over to the computer set up on a desk in the corner of the room. Dalton, sensing the tension in the air between Zachary and me, scurries over with him. I step closer to my brother and take a long pull from my bottle.
“She's sweet and hot,” Zach says. “Trust me, I get it, Milo. I get it.”
“Our beef is with the Longstreet men. Her father. Her brothers,” I say quietly. “There's no reason to involve her or shame her like that.”
He shrugs. “Our beef is with the Longstreet clan in general, brother,” he says. “She's collateral damage. Sexy as hell, but collateral damage nonetheless.”