Page 58 of Rare Blend
Layla orders us a round of lemon drop shots. I want to protest, but I don’t want to be that person. Starting off with shots is a horrible idea, especially when I’ve barely eaten today. I’m a lightweight, so I’m going to be drunk in no time.
“Bottoms up, ladies,” Layla yells over the loud music, and we clink our glasses together.
Ariana, who looks as reluctant as I feel, meets my eyes and then shrugs, slinging back the shot in one gulp. Well fuck, if she did it, I have to. The three sisters watch me as I take a few deep breaths and down the shot. It takes me two gulps. I’ve never been any good at taking shots. I must’ve missed that course in college.
“Come on, let’s go find a spot,” Layla says.
We end up in a section with high-top tables and gather around one, placing our drinks on it while we stand and look around the crowd. I can feel glances and whispers as people take notice of my presence. Clearly, I stand out, since everyone knows each other around here. The Jackalope is one of the few businesses in town not frequented by tourists, making it painfully obvious when there’s a new face in the crowd. It’s never fun being the new kid, no matter how old you are.
“Are the boys coming?” Ariana asks Elyse.
Elyse nods. “Yeah, Mom and Dad are watching Lily, so Gav and Shane are coming and somehow they convinced Ethan to come out, too.”
Layla’s eyes widen. “Ethan is coming? That’s interesting. I wonder why.”
Elyse sways her shoulders to the music. “I can think of one reason,” she singsongs and looks right at me.
I force a laugh, trying to dismiss her. “Your brother does not see me that way. And neither do I.”Liar.
“I don’t know about that,” she says with a smile that tells me she knows something I don’t. “Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Ariana’s focus is on the front. “Speak of the devil. They’re here.”
The three brothers, who look so similar, yet incredibly different, are gathered at the entrance. One is completely tattooed, looking like a bad boy version of Ethan, and wearinga T-shirt, his ink-sleeved arms on full display. The other is swallowing the doorway with his viking-like size. And then there’s Ethan, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd with a weary expression, stopping when they lock onto mine. I try to look away and break the connection, but I can’t. The familiar tension tethers us together, undeniably complicated.
CHAPTER 22
Ethan
SMALL DICK ENERGY VIBES
“First round is on me, fuckers.” Shane sandwiches himself between me and Gavin, his arms around our shoulders, and pushes us into the bar, forcing me to tear my eyes off Marisa. But not before the image of her burns into my mind. The way her black, breezy dress skates across her perfect thighs. The way the little vest she’s paired with it has her perky tits spilling out over the top of the deep V. The way her tan, toned legs are on full display in white cowboy boots that shouldn’t look nearly as sexy as they do on her. The way her long, thick hair flows down her back in loose waves, and my fingers rub together as I imagine how it would feel to slide my hands through those silky strands.
She looks good. Too good. And it pisses me off, because I’m not the only one who notices. Heads turn like dominos falling over as my sisters pull her deeper into the bar and farther away from me.
I knew she was going to be here tonight—hell, it’s the only reason I agreed to come. I don’t enjoy this shit. Dive bars, crowds, drunken idiots—it’s my personal nightmare. But I’d rather suffer through this than stay at home and wonder if someasshole is hitting on her, making her smile, buying her drinks. No, I guess I’d rather torture myself by witnessing it instead.
If I had walked in alone, no one would have paid me any attention, but with my brothers on either side, the attention is unavoidable. Gavin is everyone’s favorite DILF—not my words, just what I know to be true. If he had any interest in dating again, he wouldn’t lack for options. It continues to surprise me how brazen some women can be, cornering him after PTA meetings and using their own kids to orchestrate some alone time under the guise of playdates. He’s a good sport about it, though. Unlike me, Gavin is actually nice, and likable, and so goddamn patient he deserves a medal.
Shane is a man whore—a title he owns proudly. We’re opposites in nearly every way. Where I’m brusque, stand-offish, and tongue tied, he’s all smooth lines and charisma. I’d think we weren’t blood related, but we look nearly identical, minus the seven years I have on him and the thirty plus tattoos he has on me.
I’m just the weird one. The quiet one. The one people tolerate in hopes that my brothers are part of the deal.
Gavin and I find an open booth, and Shane splits off to get us drinks. I try my damndest to not let my eyes search for Marisa. I didn’t come here to bother her. I just can’t seem to stay the fuck away.
Despite the fact that I recognize nearly everyone, my anxiety festers below the surface. A stray laugh, a drunken yell, a glass breaking; all sounds that weave around my nerves. Each noise causes my heart to pound harder in my chest, loud and insistent. I purposefully didn’t take a beta blocker because I knew I’d be drinking, and until some alcohol numbs me, I’ll have to ride out this raw feeling a while longer.
Shane returns with cold beers and shots. Skipping the beer, I go straight for the hard stuff and down the whiskey in one gulp, hoping the burn of it will tamper down my spiking pulse.
An hour. I can do an hour of this. If I set a clear, tangible goal, the competitor in me has to achieve it.
Shane is quick to abandon us for Shelby, who’s fluttering her eyes at him at the next table over, and a few of Gavin’s buddies join our booth to catch up. He rarely gets a night out like this, so when he does, he makes the most of it. Their conversation fills the void around us and enables me to relax slightly.
When my eyes scan the crowd again, they land on Marisa, who’s standing at the bar, laughing with none other than Cole Benton.
Fuck me.
Contrary to popular belief and small town gossip, the Ledgers and the Bentons get along just fine. We’re competitive in business, but it only makes us better in the long run. We all grew up together, and in most circumstances, I would even consider Cole a friend. But right now? I’m not feeling very friendly. Right now, I want to punch Cole square in the jaw.
