Page 7 of A Love So Sweet
“Then how do you know Max?” Treat briefly wondered if Dane had somehow met and hit on her. Dane had slept with one of Treat’s girlfriends when he was visiting Treat at college, and it had taken them months to move past what they now called the Mary Jane incident and get on solid ground again. Mary Jane had tried to reconcile with Treat, but any girlfriend who would sleep with his brother was not a girlfriend he needed. He’d gone out and hooked up with the most beautiful girl on campus the next night—right after sending Dane back home. He trusted Dane now, but even still, thinking about that incident brought it all to the forefront of Treat’s mind.
“Dane?” he asked with a fisted hand. He and his brothers had come to blows many times over the years, but it had been forever since Treat had felt the urge to punch anyone. Max wasn’t even his to claim, but he couldn’t stop his protective claws from coming out.
“Leave him alone, Treat.” Rex planted himself between them.
Treat stared at Dane until he relented and said, “I talked to Lacy a few days later, to apologize for not being at the wedding. She told me about Max coordinating the event, and that you two left together one evening, and…I know she hooked up with Justin, and I just assumed…” Dane shrugged.
Fire exploded inside Treat. He grabbed Dane, but Rex batted his arm away. Treat wasn’t about to stand down. He drew his shoulders back, eyes locked on Rex, and stepped closer.
Rex crossed his arms, a formidable barrier.
Vaguely aware of his sister entering the kitchen, Treat spoke through gritted teeth. “Step aside, Rex.”
“What are you doing?” Savannah looked from one brother to the other.
“Dude’s out of control,” Dane said, taking a step back. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this jealous since Mary Jane.”
“Dane! Rex, get him out of here,” Savannah ordered.
Treat held Dane’s glower. It wasn’t Dane’s fault he was frustrated over Max. “Sorry, Dane. I don’t know what’s got into me.” He straightened his shirt and cleared his throat as Rex and Dane left the room. “Sorry, Savannah. I’m just on edge.”
“Why did he bring up Mary Jane?” she asked.
The worried look in Savannah’s eyes pulled Treat from his angst. She was particularly sensitive to her brothers being at odds, and even though it had been years since they’d fought over a woman, he knew she worried about him and Dane falling right back into that awful place and time.
“I’m fine. He was just egging me on,” Treat answered.
“Yeah, well, you all can be jerks at one time or another,” Savannah said, fixing his collar.
Dane and Rex came back into the kitchen carrying more dishes.
“Is it safe?” Rex asked.
Treat locked eyes with Dane in a silent warning not to talk about Max and Justin in the same breath again.
“Yes, it’s safe,” Savannah insisted, glaring at Treat. “Treat, you have to go out with me and Hugh tonight.”
“What are we, second rate?” Rex asked.
Savannah rolled her eyes. “You’re anythingbutsecond rate. That’s the problem. I don’t want to spend the evening beating women away with a stick because you two look at them like you want to devour them. Treat has more couth. It’s the festival after-party. Hugh has a date and two extra tickets.” She raised her brows and said, “Max might be there.”
The mention of Justin and Max had made his blood boil, and he wasn’t sure he could even look at Max without feeling it rip through him again. “I’m beat,” he lied.
“Yeah? Well, wake up,” Savannah said. “You’re going.”
“She made it pretty clear that she wants distance from me. I can’t push myself on her.”
“Treat, you’re such a fool. All men are. No matter what we women say, we want the knight in shining armor. We want Richard Gere riding up in his white limousine. We want Leonardo DiCaprio to tell us that he’ll never let us go.”
“I don’t know about that,” Treat said. “Don’t they want us to respect their space when they make it clear they want it?” Savannah’s energy was finding its way into his body, and he was actually wondering if he was wrong and should go after Max.
“Nope,” she said. “We want you to read between the lines.”
“She didn’t leave much for interpretation.”
“Trust me, big brother,” Savannah said. “Every woman wants her man to read between the lines, and because of that, she leaves a bread-crumb trail for you to find her.”
“I’m a pretty wise man. If there were a bread-crumb trail, I’d have seen it before she even realized she left it.” He had dissected every word Max had said, and beyond the way she looked at him—like she wanted to kiss him as she had that night—there wasn’t a hint of an open door. Was that the trail? Or had he conjured it in his mind with wishful thinking?
