Page 98 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
Rafe and I stand back as Boone rams the wheelbarrow straight up a ramp and into the dumpster.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, he walks back to us. “Wanna get a drink?”
I turn to Rafe. I don’t get drinks with the guys. I’m not one of the guys. I never have been, and I certainly don’t day-drink with them.
“Sure,” Rafe says with a careless shrug.
“Good. Let’s go.” Boone walks toward his truck, and Rafe follows.
“I have work to do.” Nothing about this screams good idea to me.
“It can wait. Get your ass in the truck, Wilder.”
I lift my brows at the back of Boone’s head. No one orders me around like that.
“Come on, Thane. It’ll be good for you.”
I glare at Rafe. “The last time you said that to me, I ended up with my head in a toilet for twelve hours.”
He chuckles and climbs into the back seat of Boone’s pickup truck, leaving the door open as if he knows I’ll follow.
“Let’s go, Wilder. I don’t have all day.”
I’m pretty sure it’s shock that has me following Boone’s orders. Once I’m in the truck, I pull out my phone to text Lottie.
Me: Somehow, I got roped into going for a drink with Boone and Rafe. If I’m not home in one hour, come get me.
Me: Please.
Lottie: That’s…unexpected.
I glare at Boone.
Me: You have no idea.
Lottie: Well, have fun. Kara and I are making dinner together tonight anyway. We’ll meet you at home.
Home.
I lock onto that word and to help me get through this next hour with these imbeciles. I know my girls will be waiting for me…at home.
* * *
“You havethree siblings named Macallan, Jameson, and Bailey? Your parents named you all after alcohol?” I’m not sure why I’m fixated on their names, but it’s been a gnat in my brain since Rafe mentioned it.
“You’re one to talk…Thane. My brothers go by Cal and James. Only my baby sister goes by her full name. Plus, our pub has been in my family for generations. It makes sense. What are you named after?”
“It’s Old English and means warrior.”
“Of course you’d know that.” Boone tosses back his second beer.
“And they’re all here?” Rafe asks.
“Showed up the day after his house blew up.”
“And that’s a problem because?” I’m not following, and normally, I’d be okay with that, but since it was my house that blew up with him in it, obligation forces me to make an effort.
“James is seventeen and Bailey is fifteen. It’s not them I have the issue with. They’re still babies. Cal and I were adults when they were born.”
