Page 84 of Score on You

Grace and Harper pin us to our bench with a mutual glare. I tug my hat down to shield myself from their scathing ire. Drake smirks, far too pleased with himself.

Garrett scoffs. “Don’t loop me in with these two, soulmate. I’m innocent.”

His fiancée snorts. “You’re many things, bartender. Innocent isn’t one of them.”

He scratches at his jaw, not bothering to hide a growing smile. “Got me there.”

Callie squeals, which morphs into an untamed giggle. My concentration is redirected where it belongs to find Walter showering her with sloppy kisses. Lucky mutt. As if listening, the dog doubles his efforts to make me jealous.

Garrett cocks his head at the commotion. “Let me get this straight. Someone just gave a golden doodle away?”

“Apparently,” I drawl.

“Aren’t they a designer breed?”

I shrug. “Depends who you ask.”

“How convenient for your wallet that this one happened to be free,” Drake chimes in.

“I’d buy her a dozen puppies.” The happiness shining on my girl’s face is worth a fortune. A sideways glance from left to right suggests I’m not the only one to notice.

“She’s poking out of her shell, huh?”

I jab Garrett’s arm. “Don’t refer to her as a turtle.”

“Could be a snail,” he grumbles.

“He’s right,” Drake agrees. “Callie is different lately. It’s in a good way, don’t get me wrong. Like she’s more carefree or some cathartic shit.”

“An oppressed seed that needed to be nurtured and watered by a particular hose to bloom into a flower.”

I startle at the sudden appearance of Joy. “The fuck you come from?”

“Main Street.” She points at the road as if I haven’t lived in Knox Creek for years. “Cole and Belle are bonding over ice cream. I needed to stretch my legs.”

Garrett studies his sister. “Are you a poet and I didn’t know it?”

She wrinkles her nose as unshed tears collect in her eyes. “That little sonnet just sprang through the dirt to be heard. The hormones have me all up in my feels.”

“Ah, thanks for the warning.” Drake scoots to the edge of the bench.

“Don’t be a dick,” she blubbers.

He blanches. “What? How? I was just—”

“Being an insensitive prick,” she snaps.

“Sorry,” Drake mumbles.

“How’s my nephew cooking in there?” Garrett pokes at Joy’s small baby bump.

“Just fine, weirdo.” Her hand smacks his away.

“Jeez.” He shakes off the sting. “Do you need a snack? Maybe a punching bag?”

She straightens and blows out a slow exhale. “Apologies for the snark. It’s something I’m working on.”

“I can see that.” Her brother adjusts on his seat as if seconds away from fleeing.

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