Page 28 of Make My Heart Malt

He flinches. “Ouch. Someone’s taking shots below the belt.”

I shrug and swallow the last sip of my drink. “I’ve always enjoyed concocting new drinks. When I got old enough, I started adding alcohol.”

“That’s right.” He tilts his cup toward me. “I remember you would always mix five different sodas into your fountain drink.”

I brush a strand of hair off my forehead and tuck itbehind my ear. This is one more thing he remembers about me from years ago. “I enjoyed testing out the different combinations and seeing what I could create.”

“Everyone thought you were being weird. But I loved that you didn’t care.”

My heart leaps to my throat at the word loved. Shut up, brain. It’s not like he’s saying he loved you.

He swallows the last gulp of his drink. “What else do you got? Maybe something like a slippery nipple? Sex on the beach?” He flashes me a wink.

A laugh bubbles out of me. I rest my palms on the counter and lean toward him, locking my gaze with his. “What are you trying to insinuate, Mr. Dawson?” My voice is low and husky. I’d like to think I sound like a sexy vixen, but it’s probably closer to a drunk cat. I was never good at flirting.

“Well, Ms. Mitchell,” he leans forward, mimicking my tone, “my drink is empty, and I need a new one.” He winks again.

I laugh and rise to my full height, all five four of it, and busy myself with mixing a fresh drink.

He taps his fingers on the counter. “You know, you should make a drink for the wedding.”

“And call it what? The Ex-Boyfriend.”

“The Wrong Brother?” His lips spread into a wide grin.

I raise an eyebrow. “Or The Jerk Who Left Without Saying Goodbye.”

He laughs. “That’s too long. People won’t go for that.”

“I haven't decided if I’m even going to the wedding.” I pour the drink from the shaker to a lowball and slide it to Garrett and then fill one for myself. “Don’t you think it’d be a little awkward for the ex-girlfriend to show up at the wedding?” I take a sip of my drink.

Garrett shrugs nonchalantly. “You could always be my date.”

This time I spit my drink out onto the counter and floor. With my hand, I wipe my mouth before grabbing a napkin to clean my mess. “Because that would make things less awkward.”

He laughs. “Who cares? The wedding seems like a sham, anyway.”

“How can you say that when you’ve been out of town for ten years?”

“I know my brother, and he’s never been able to make a decision and stick to it. In middle school and early high school he constantly flip-flopped between baseball, hockey, and football. Not to forget, the brief time he also played golf.”

“It’s normal for kids to play multiple sports until they find one they enjoy the most.”

“But that’s the thing, I don’t think he truly had a passion for any of them.” He leans back and rests his arm over the backrest. “I believe he only got serious about baseball and played for as long as he did was because I played too, and he resented the fact that I was better than him.”

I yank open a drawer and pull out a safety pin. Unhooking it, I jab the pointy end into the air toward him.

His brows pinch together. “What are you doing?”

“Deflating your ego. It’s starting to occupy too much room.”

He exhales a boisterous laugh. “It’s not ego. It’s the truth.”

I drop the pin in the drawer and close it with my hip. “Maybe he’s changed?”

He drops his arm from the chair and leans forward. “Tigers don’t change their stripes. Chameleons maybe. He’ll disguise himself until it’s time to strike.”

“You’re not judging him fairly, especially since you’ve been gone all these years.”

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