The Stepbrother (Red's Tavern 5)

“I sure hope you’re wearing sunscreen,” I called out to him. He seemed startled, and I realized I’d woken him from a nap.

“Sam,” he said, tipping his sunglasses down. His icy grey eyes focused on me.

“Fox,” I said.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he said, reaching for his whiskey and taking a small sip.

“It’s the kickoff party,” I said. “Of course I’m here.”

“But I’m here,” he said, clearly very tipsy. “And you hate being around me.”

“You always were smart,” I said.

He let out a slow laugh. “And you always were funny. In a mean sort of way.”

“I’m only mean to people who deserve it,” I said, turning around and pulling off my tank top, tossing it onto one of the nearby chairs. “If you want any food you’re going to have to get your ass up and grill it yourself.”

Part of me really hoped Fox was looking at me from behind as I walked off. I wanted him to be surprised by what he saw. I certainly didn’t have any muscles back in high school. Fox had only ever known me as a shrimpy, gangly kid, but he wasn’t the only one who worked out these days.

I walked across the yard to the table. “Hey Jim, hey Laura,” I said, giving my aunt and uncle hugs. “Logan! There you are.”

My cousin was sitting at the table in the shade, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, hiding from the afternoon sun and clearly not ready to swim.

“Hi, Sam,” he said, standing to give me an awkward hug.

“No pool for you?” I asked.

He shook his head, nodding over to a book he had over on the table. “Finishing up my summer reading. I start senior year of college in September.”

“You’re a good student,” I said. “Better than I ever was.”

Logan shrugged. “I just like school,” he said.

“Well, that’s good, because you’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met,” I said. “Just don’t forget to break some hearts while you’re still in college, too.”

“That’s what my dad said to me,” Logan added.

I gasped in mock horror. “Oh, God,” I said. “Does that mean I’ve aged into the kind of guy who makes dad jokes? Am I ancient?”

Logan was trying to hide a smile. My cousin was a shy nerd, but he definitely had a sense of humor.

“Quick. Take a picture of me in front of the pool for my Instagram,” I said to Logan, handing him my phone. “I need some validation that I’m still hot.”

I spread my arms out and looked up into the blue skies above, posing in front of the water as Logan kindly took a few photos.

“I better not be in those pictures,” Fox called out from his pool raft.

“My friends want to see pictures of me, not you,” I said, taking the phone back from Logan and posting a few to my account. “Thank you, Logan. Do you want any pictures of you?”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

I smiled. “I’m surrounded by people who hate photos and hate social media. I admire you for not being vain like me.”

“Hey,” Fox said. “You admire him for it, yet you make fun of me for hating social media? I want to be admired, too.”

“Yeah, because Logan isn’t an asshole about it,” I said.

“Hey, assholes need love, too,” Fox said. I heard him laugh softly behind me, muttering to himself under his breath. “That sounds like a rimming joke.”

I glanced at Logan. “How much has he had to drink?” I whispered.

Logan glanced at Fox. “Lots.”

I nodded silently. “Can you put my phone on the table?” I asked Logan, and he happily complied, clearly eager to get back to his book.

I walked back over to the pool. Fox stared at me from over the rim of his sunglasses the whole time. I knew he was probably still just judging me for the mini Instagram photoshoot, but I liked pretending that he was enjoying my body. I jumped into the deep end opposite of Fox, diving into the rush of cool water.

When I came up for air, pushing my wet hair back, Fox was still looking at me from his raft, legs crossed.

“Thought you were going to go help with grilling,” Fox said, sitting up a little straighter.

“I’m cooling off first,” I said. “Why are you already so drunk?”

He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head, raising one eyebrow. “Judgy judgy, coming from a bartender.”

“Not judging, just making sure you’re okay,” I said. “And seriously. You did remember sunscreen, right?”

He paused for a while, like he wasn’t sure how to react to someone checking in on his well-being.

“I drink Scotch all the time, Sam,” he finally said, brushing it off. “I think I’ll be okay. And yes. I’m wearing sunscreen.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”