She was driving me fucking nuts.
“See? That right there,” Jer said, pointing a finger in my face. “Pouting. What’s going on with you, man?”
“Nothing.” I noticed my brother’s department vehicle parked at the cottage. “Fuck.”
“There a reason you don’t like seeing your brother’s car parked at Not Tina’s?”
“Is it the bisexual part of you that wants to talk about fucking feelings all the time?” I asked. “Or is it the ‘I come from a big, Lebanese family that knows everything about everybody’ part that I can blame?”
“Why not both?” he said with a quick grin.
A particularly loud burst of laughter caught our attention, as did the scent of grilled meat.
Waylon’s nose twitched. The white tip of his tail froze in the air.
“No,” I said sternly.
I might as well have said, “Sure, bud. Go get yourself a hot dog.” Because my dog took off like a streak.
“Looks like we’re joining the party,” Jeremiah observed.
“Fuck. I’m getting a beer first.”
A minute later, cold beers in hand, we wandered around the back of the cottage to find half of Knockemout on Naomi’s porch.
Sloane, the pretty librarian, was there with her niece, Chloe, who was wading knee-deep in the creek with Waylay and my grandmother’s dogs. Liza J was sitting next to Tallulah while Justice manned the grill and my pain in the ass brother flirted with Naomi.
She looked like summer.
Considering I’d had two sips of beer, I couldn’t blame alcohol on my mental prose. My mouth went dry as my gaze started at her bare feet, then moved up the long, tan legs to where they disappeared under the flirty, lemon yellow sundress.
“So that’s the problem,” Jeremiah said smugly. He was looking right at Naomi, and I didn’t much care for it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
Waylon barreled his way up onto the porch and made a beeline for the grill.
“Waylon!” Naomi looked delighted to see my dog. She crouched down to greet him, and even from here, the peek of cleavage was enough to tie my balls in a knot.
“Waylon,” I barked.
My jerk of a dog was too busy enjoying the affection of a beautiful woman to bother listening to me.
“Knox! Jer!” Tallulah called when she spotted us in the yard. “Join us.”
Naomi looked up, and I saw the sunshine fade from her face when she spotted me. The ice walls went up.
“We don’t want to impose,” Jeremiah said, cagily eyeing the spread. There were deviled eggs, grilled vegetables, some kind of layered dip thing in a fancy dish, and four kinds of desserts. On the grill, Justice was turning chicken breasts and hot dogs.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Naomi said through a smile that was more gritted teeth than invitation. Her message was clear. She didn’t want me here at her cozy little dinner party.
Well, I didn’t want her in my head every time I closed my fucking eyes. So I considered the score equal.
“If you insist,” Jeremiah said, shooting me a triumphant look.
“Nice flowers,” I said. There was a blue vase overflowing with wild blooms in the center of the table.
“Nash brought them,” Naomi said.
I wanted to smack the smug look of satisfaction right off my brother’s face.
So he brought a girl flowers, and I could barely get her to say two words to me. He should know better than to challenge me like that.
I played dirty. Even when I didn’t care about winning. I just wanted Nash to lose.
Between eating and shooting the shit with Naomi’s eclectic guests, I watched her. She sat between Waylay and Nash, who had all but pushed me out of the way like we were playing musical chairs. The conversation was lively, the mood upbeat.
Naomi laughed and talked and listened, all while keeping an eye on everyone’s plates and glasses, offering second helpings and top-offs with the expertise of someone who spent their life looking out for others.
She was warm, attentive, funny. Except to me.
So maybe I’d been a bit of a dick. Personally, I didn’t think that was enough of an infraction for me to be relegated to Ice Town.
I noticed every time Sloane or Chloe mentioned something about school starting, Naomi got pale and sometimes excused herself to go inside.
She talked to Jeremiah about hair and Whiskey Clipper. She talked about coffee and small business with Justice and Tallulah. And had no problem smiling at any stupid thing that came out of my brother’s mouth. But no matter how long I watched her, she never once glanced in my direction. I was the invisible dinner guest, and it was rubbing me the wrong way.