Page 9 of Home in the Country
“So I can ask her out?”
“Not unless you want me to tell you all the places I know Waylon has had sex with your sister.”
His eye twitches as his jaw ticks, and I take a self-satisfied sip of my beer. In all honesty, I have no idea where they’ve had sex, but I can tell him whereI’vetaken a girl and let him draw his own conclusions.
“You know they’re gonna have kids, right?”
He looks at me like I’m a moron.
“You know how that happens, right?”
My grin is a watt too bright because he pushes his stool back and stands before throwing some money on the counter and grabbing me by the back of the shirt.
“Okay, bonding time is over,” he says as he yanks me toward the door. I shake off his arm before swinging mine over his shoulder.
“Seriously, why me?” Sorren asks to no one in particular.
“It’s because of your smile—totally inviting.”
He shoves me off with an eye roll and the barest twitch of his lips. “You’re a dick. Get in the truck.”
I laugh as I climb in and shake the rain off my hat.
“I knew you were the right brother to call.”
“You mean the only one who picked up,” he growls as he starts the truck, and I lower my voice and stare out the window.
“The only one I called.”
His hand falters as he goes to put the truck in gear.
“Alright,” is all he says before his stoic demeanor slides back in place and we’re traveling toward my house.
Dude doesn’t give himself enough credit sometimes, but I also know this conversation is over so I drop it, for now.
Case isn’t home when we pull into the driveway—which isn’t surprising—but I can’t tell if I’m bummed or not.
“Thanks for the ride, man.”
Sorren opens his mouth and then closes it before nodding once. “You’re welcome.”
“Aww, see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” My words are teasing, and the look he cuts my way would make a lesser man piss himself, but I’m immune to his charms.
“Out!” he barks, but he’s trying to hide his smile as I do as instructed.
I’ve barely shut the door before he’s peeling away. Looking up, I take off my hat and appreciate this rainy night in Tennessee. It’s not enough to wash Fallon from my system, but I’m prayin’ it’s a start.
3
OTTO
“What in the hell did that tire ever do to you?”
Looking up, I watch Everett, the garage’s newest mechanic, approach with a smirk on his face. I try unsuccessfully to clear my throat.
“Want me to bring up how your roommate regularly drops off your lunch so he can ogle my brother?”
“I haven’t had enough coffee for this,” he grumbles as he stomps past me toward the employee break room.
