“Debatable.”
“—but you need to move your brain a good three feet north of your belt, Brooks, and pay attention. You and Ava haven’t been in public together all week. And most of the people you two used to be friends with are gonna be in this bar, right? This is gonna be every high school reunion you’ve missed for the last ten years condensed into one night, plus copious amounts of alcohol. You need your head—by which I mean the one on top of your shoulders—in the game.”
“I’ve got my—”
Paul grabbed the back of my neck—a trickier feat than you’d think, since I had several inches of height on the guy—and spoke intensely. “No puffy-heart eyes at Malachi. No longing glances. No holding hands under the table.”
I stepped back and his arm fell away. “Holding hands? Are you warning me off Mal, or warning yourself off Ava? And, need I remind you, she’s a very pregnant Ava.”
Which was another surprising but cool turn of events, and I was really happy for her.
“I’m aware, yes.” Paul’s face turned red, and he studied the cracks in the sidewalk for clues. “She wasn’t in a relationship with the father, you know. It was a… a onetime thing.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. He made it sound like that was the biggest potential impediment to him having a relationship with her. “But she still lives in Los Angeles, man. Just like Mal.”
“She might not always, though.” His gaze lifted to mine. “She might… I mean, I don’t know for sure, but… she sounded like she might consider moving back here. To the Thicket. So she has family support for her and the baby.”
“Yeah?” I frowned. “I guess I can see that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you and I live in New York. Not a lot of ad agencies in middle Tennessee, bud. And that’s a hell of a commute for a guy who doesn’t fly.”
“I know,” Paul said glumly. “I know. But we’re not talking about me anyway. Pfft. Nonsense. Ava and I are just… friendly. She’d never want… She’d never be…” He waved a hand negligently, a sure sign he was lying through his teeth. “Whatever. Point is, if she’s living back here in Licking Thicket, she has to be able to hold her head up. She’s not gonna be the girl who fell for a gay man twice. Or, worse, the girl who lost her second gay boyfriend to her first gay boyfriend. You get me? Someday, she’s gonna be the head of the Licket Beauty Thing.”
“The Licking Thicket Beautification Corps,” I said absently, watching Mal and Ava stroll down the street toward us. Mal had a supportive arm wrapped around Ava’s shoulders, but I could ignore that. The way the damp ends of his hair waved around his chin, though, and the tight-as-fuck jeans sitting low on his hips, were impossible to ignore. They made me want to plot ways to ensure Ava lost her second gay boyfriend to her first.
Which would be bad for many reasons. Many.
And I’d remember them any minute now.
Paul turned his head to see what had caught my attention. “She could beautify anything,” he sighed forlornly. Then he straightened and socked me lightly in the shoulder. “She’s the most important thing here, Brooks. Not you or me, since we’re leaving, and sure as fuck not Mal since he’ll probably have a new guy by next week. Just her and the baby.”
I swallowed hard at the idea of Mal moving on to a new guy—which, yes, was crazy talk, considering we’d exchanged one and a half kisses, if you counted the near miss at the junkyard, and a bunch of longing looks. Paul made sense, damn him.
I forced myself to look away from the pair approaching us. “Look, I’m not a particularly possessive guy, My Little Paul, but I’m guessing you should be directing that loving look at me. I can maybe try to keep my hands off Mal, but you’ll need to be more convincing about being my main squeeze.”
Paul groaned. “I’m not kissing you again, Big Daddy.”
Lurleen’s daughter Alana walked past us with a group of her girlfriends, heading for the bar, and I was pretty sure she overheard his last comment, damn it. “Everything okay, Brooksy?”
“God, yes! Perfect!” I cried, flinging my arms around Paul. “So perfect! I just get insatiable around my honeybear sometimes,” I added in a confiding voice, “seeing the way this pale blue shirt just brings out the, uh… the paleness of his eyes? Rowrrrr. But he’s concerned that public displays of affection just aren’t done in the Thicket, and he wants so badly to impress my friends and family!”
“I hate you,” Paul muttered into my armpit.
Mal and Ava walked up, and while Mal looked amused, Ava glared at me. She looked simultaneously ready for bed and ready to claw my eyes out.