Page 4 of Distress Signal
I shrugged. “Sexy name for a hot guy.”
He ducked until we were eye level. “Pot, meet kettle.”
I’d never blushed a day in my life, but under his bright blue gaze, my cheeks flamed.
Awkwardly clearing my throat because I had no appropriate response tothat, I deflected by saying, “So how about that drink?”
Another smirk tilted his full lips, surely remembering the one he’d already gotten me that I’d abandoned untouched. “Lead the way.”
The crowd parted like the Red Sea around us, easily paving the way to the bar, likely in deference to the large man behind me. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel his hand hovering near my back, ready to reach for me if the need arose.
The bartender smirked. “You can’t stay away, can you?”
Finn grinned. “Not from you.”
My brow creased, annoyed to find him flirting with her right in front of me—and further annoyed for being annoyed in the first place.
What the fuck was going on with me?
“Round for my brothers, except?—”
“Yeah, Finn,” she said, cutting him off with an eye roll. “Except Crew, I know.” Then she looked at me. “And for you?”
“Whatever they’re having is fine with me.”
“Six IDs, coming right up.” When we didn’t move, she shooed us away. “Go. I’ll bring ‘em over. You’re takin’ up space we ain’t got.”
Finn chuckled, then grabbed my hand. He stared at me in surprise, like he hadn’t meant to. But when he tried to pull his hand away, I held fast, giving him a reassuring smile. He returned it before heading toward the back corner, skirting the dance floor and towing me along behind him. I told myself I wanted to hold his hand because it made following him easier than trying to fight through the crowd myself.
Really, though, that was a lie.
Secretly, I loved the way my nerve endings lit up with his touch. My whole body was electrified, making me feel more alive than I had in months.
“What’s an ID?” I asked, loud enough to be heard over the din.
“Local brew,” he replied over his shoulder. “Hope you like IPAs!”
I didn’t, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I’d find a way to choke it down. Growing up in the south, my manners had been drilled into me from a young age. If this sexy ass man was buying me a drink, I’d say, “thank you” and finish the whole damn thing with a smile on my face.Especiallysince I’d already wasted the first one.
Maybe I wasn’tquitethe southern belle Mama and Daddy had raised anymore, but there were some things I’d never shake.
“The prodigal son returns!” someone, who I couldn’t yet see around Finn’s massive body, yelled before we’d even reached the table. Though we were out of the thick of the crowd, we still had a perfect view of the stage and the people line dancing to “Fake ID” by Big & Rich.
“You and your fucking hero complex,” a different man said.
“Don’t you know, little bro?” Finn responded. “The hero always gets the girl.”
“Don’t call me that. And if yougother, where is she?”
Finn stepped to the side, giving me a full view of the table full of ridiculously good-looking men. These must’ve been his brothers and,damn, thegenesin this family didn’t fuck around.
“Everyone, meet Reagan. Reagan, these are my brothers,” Finn confirmed. “Owen, the oldest.” He pointed at one sitting at the end of the long, rectangular table, a backward ball cap settled on his head, his sandy blond hair long enough to brush his shoulders. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. “Trey, second oldest.” Trey’s hair was short on the sides and long on the top. He was more leanly muscled than the others, but equally as tall and with the same shade of hair and eyes. “Lane.”
“That’s Sheriff to you,” the guy said, his muscles rivaling Finn’s. Every inch of skin I could see from where the sleeves of his tee strained against his biceps down to the words “love free” across his knuckles was covered in ink.
“You’ve had the title for like three days,” Finn retorted. Then he murmured to me, “You don’t have to call him that.”
“We all call him a pain in the ass,” one of the two remaining brothers said happily, earning him a slap on the back of the head from the sheriff.
