A smoky orange sun filters through the trees, washing the horizon in the waning daylight. My truck bumps along the gravel driveway until I pull to a stop behind two Ford F150s.
Brady’s farmhouse isn’t tricked out like mine, but his is far more charming. More welcoming. From the warm glow of the living room behind that picture window to the porch swing, everything about this place says home.
Making my way to the porch, I recognize the improvements he and Kat have made over the years. New siding. Pretty planter boxes. A brand-new playset, complete with a winding slide and monkey bars for their daughter. And rows and rows of lavender bushes that stretch into the distance.
When I reach the front door, I look down to make sure I’m respectable. Jeans. T-shirt. Boots. Sure, maybe I could’ve tried a little harder, dressed up more, but this isn’t a date.
Before I can think too long and hard about why I’m nervous, I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans.
Yes, this is fucking weird.
Just gotta be nice to Tori, see if we can have a civil conversation. At least I can tell my brother I tried to make this work.
I balance the six-pack of beer in my arm while I knock. Brady said he felt like Corona tonight when I texted to ask what I could bring. Good thing I checked because I was about to get him some Sam Adams, since he’s from Boston and that’s usually what he orders when we hang out.
When Brady opens the door, the smell of chili and baked things I can’t begin to understand how to make waft out.
“Hey, man. Come in. Everyone’s in the kitchen.”
“Whatever you’re making smells amazing.” I hand him the beer and slap him on the back.
“I’d say thank you, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
We pass through the living room and into the modest kitchen. I wave to Kat and Izzy, who are sitting at the table, even though my attention immediately zones in on Tori, who is standing at the stove. Her dark brown hair hangs down her back in long waves, and she’s wearing cutoffs that make her ass look like a juicy peach.
My palms itch to feel those sweet curves.
The thought is alarming.
Kat waves me into the room. “Hey, Ethan! I’d get up to hug you, but my baby keeps bumping my kidneys, and I’d rather not jostle the little kickboxer right now.”
I nod and take off my baseball cap. “Good to see you. Thanks for the invitation to dinner.”
Brady holds up the six-pack. “Hey, Tor. Look what Ethan brought. Your favorite beer.”
I’ll be damned. Guess the beer isn’t for him after all.
Finally, the mermaid turns around.
Maybe it’s the way the evening sun shines through the kitchen window, making Tori glow in a dreamy light. Maybe it’s the fact that I was baking like a catfish in the hot sun all day and probably have heat stroke. Or maybe it’s because I’m so hungry I could eat an entire Black Angus by myself. But Tori Duran looks like the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. No makeup or fuss. Just that thick, dark mane and those golden-green eyes staring back. Wary and cautious. Guarded.
Of course she’s guarded, asshole. You were a dick to her the other day.
I do that thing with my face where I try to smile. “Hey, Tori. Nice to see you again.”
The girl laughs humorlessly. “Did you really bring me that beer or did Brady tell you it was for him?”
Rubbing my jaw, I consider how to answer. Lying isn’t my strong suit. Never lied to my wife. Tried not to lie to my parents growing up. What was the point when they could always sniff out the truth anyway? So it doesn’t make sense why I want to now except I don’t want to hurt Tori’s feelings. Plus, something twisted in me suddenly wants to please this girl.
Taking a few steps closer and leaning in, so I don’t curse in front of Izzy, I whisper, “If I admit I got it for your brother-in-law, am I back on your shit list?”
Although I expect my answer to piss her off, the corner of her mouth tilts up like she’s amused. “You haven’t worked your way off it.” Her eyes squint playfully. “But honesty is a start.”
When I smile at her—a real one because I’m genuinely glad to see her—her lips part and she sucks in a breath.
I give her a wink. “I just need one chance, darlin’.”
