Brooks nodded absently and tried to peer around me into the house. “You got any beer in there? I could stand a drink or three after the visit from my mom.”
I closed my eyes and prayed to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. “Come in. Let me put this one down in her crib. Kitchen’s over there. Help yourself.”
After settling the milk-drunk girl into the crib and double-checking the baby monitor settings, I made my way back out to the living room and tried to ignore Mal looking through all of my shit. Instead, I threw myself down onto the sofa and kicked my feet up onto the coffee table. “Gimme one of those,” I grunted at Brooks.
He set the bottle on a tidy little square of folded paper towel. Our eyes met for a brief moment of WTF before I took a glug of the cold brew and let out a sigh.
“What’s going on?” I asked once Mal stopped being nosy and took a seat on the arm of the chair where Brooks sat.
“You and Partridge. Spill.” Mal rubbed his hands together in glee before swiping the beer from Brooks’s hand and taking a sip.
“What about him. Us. Him. What about him?” Way to stay cool, Ace.
Brooks lifted an eyebrow but remained quiet. Mal wasn’t so polite. “You’re engaged? To be married? To Parrish?” His voice kicked ever higher with each question until I was sure the coyotes in the forest a few miles away were probably twitching their ears in annoyance. Brooks took a sip of beer like this was just Mal being Mal. I kinda felt sorry for the guy and wondered if I should recommend the brand of ear protectors I used with my chainsaw.
“Yeah. So?” I said with a shrug before taking another sip.
Brooks spewed beer all over his shirt. “Wait, what? What?” He turned to Mal. “What?”
Mal looked at Brooks like he was daft. “What did you think your mom meant when she said she heard Diesel and Parrish were getting married?”
Brooks set his beer down and used his own paper towel square to dab at his wet shirt. “I thought it was the Thicket rumor mill getting a little overcranked as it tends to do. I didn’t think the rumors were true.”
I squinted one eye against the headache nudging its way up the back of my neck. Maybe a few more sips of beer would help.
Mal studied me. “That’s a little sudden. Don’t you think?”
I met his eyes. “Pot, this is kettle…”
Brooks burst out laughing, accidentally knocking Mal off the arm of the chair. “He got you there, babe.”
Mal moved over to the end of the sofa opposite me. “We’ve been together for like a year. They’ve only known each other…” He paused and looked at me. “Wait. When did you two meet?”
“A while ago,” I said. Which was completely true if you had the life span of a mosquito.
Brooks leaned forward and grabbed his beer again before sitting back with a dangerously smug smile. “Great. Then you can come with us to the Cocktail Marathon tomorrow night. We’ll make it a double date. Triple, if we can convince Ava and Paul to come too.”
I opened my mouth to explain about the babysitting problem before I remembered that Marigold might be with the Kensingtons again tomorrow night. I was fighting a second overnight visit since Parrish had told me babies this age didn’t do well away from home in unfamiliar places.
“I’m not sure. We’ll probably have Marigold with us, and something like that would be past her bedtime.”
Brooks frowned before his face lit up again. “I know. We’ll do the happy hour live music thing in the park tomorrow evening. It’s a family event. Starts at five, and Parrish can hook us up with some barbecue. I’ll bring picnic blankets and stuff. The baby will love it. Ava’s taken little Beau before, and he crawls around all over the place. Sometimes lightning bugs come out by the time they finish up with the music. It’s all over by like seven thirty or something.”
Mal’s eyes met mine, challenging me to decline another heartfelt invitation by his man. I blew out a breath. “Fine. We’ll do the damned picnic. But right now, you two need to get the hell out of here because my head’s killing me, and Little Miss is going to be up in an hour wanting all my attention again.”
The two of them stood up and took their bottles to the kitchen. I mumbled an apology about kicking them out, but they waved me off like it was no big deal. It felt kind of nice to have friends who didn’t mind getting the old heave-ho. It reminded me of how I’d felt the first time I’d met them over a year ago. And that reminded me of how Brooks had responded when I’d flirted with Mal. I couldn’t exactly pass up an opportunity to get a rise out of him again. Not after he’d roped me into some Licking Thicket family night.