He tilted his head. “You wear socks with daisies?”
“It’s ironic.” I puffed my chest out. “Makes me feel more in touch with myself.”
“This wouldn’t even cover your huge toe, big brother.” He full-on cackled. “Youslept with her!”
“Jesus, keep your voice down.”
“We’re alone!”
“Walls are thin,” I grunted, storming back into the bar with the sock clenched in my fist like it had personally betrayed me.
“Brick walls?”
I scowled.
Drew followed, still laughing. “Okay, okay. But man…finally!You’ve been circling each other like two grumpy cats in a cardboard box.”
I dropped the sock behind the bar and resumed wiping the same spot I’d already cleaned twice.
Drew leaned against the bar, watching me with too much amusement.
“So,” he said, voice dipping with mock seriousness, “you gonna tell me what happened or do I get to make up my own version involving candlelight, dramatic declarations, and possibly shirtless woodworking?”
I glared. “Nothing happened.”
“Right, of course. The sock magically grew legs, stumbled into your backroom, and flung itself off.”
“Drop it, Drew.”
He held up both hands. “Alright, alright. Just saying… you look good. Like you’re not about to throw someone through a window for breathing too loudly. It’s a nice change.”
I stared at him for a long beat. Then sighed.
“She’s…” I paused, unsure how to finish.
He waited.
“She’s not what I expected,” I said finally.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “She’s better.”
I didn’t argue.
Couldn’t.
Because the truth was, Drew was right. Lydiawasbetter. Better than I’d given her credit for. Better than the label I’d slapped on her the second she showed up in my town with a dream and a clipboard.
But that didn’t mean I knew what the hell to do next.
So I did nothing.
“I don’t want to mess it up,” I muttered, almost too low to hear.
Drew’s expression sobered. “Then don’t.”
I looked down at the bar, the grain of the wood, the faint nick where someone dropped a bottle two summers ago.
“You think I’m ready for this?” I asked.