Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

Tucker staggered past him, mumbling something about the bathroom and Beau poured him a cup of coffee, setting it on the counter as he grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and stuffed them into his bag.

How the hell was he going to do this?

“God I feel like shit.” Tucker said gruffly a few minutes later as he grabbed the cup off the counter and took a first, tentative sip. His long hair hung just past his shoulders, the dark waves a mess. He needed to shave, but then so did Beau, and it was obvious that his brother was hanging big time.

“Did you close the place out?” Beau asked.

Tucker groaned and ran a hand through the ropes of hair at his nape. “I don’t remember, which makes me pretty sure that I did.” He paused. “How the hell did we get home? Oh, wait, you disappeared just after the band started their second set. That I remember. Do you want to know why I remember that one fucking detail? Two words.”

Beau remained silent because he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Lane Summers.”

Shit.

“Yep. Lane Summers didn’t leave my side. She yakked in my ear until I thought I was going insane. She’s the reason I downed an entire bottle of tequila. How the hell did you put up with her for more than one date?”

Beau shrugged. He really had nothing to say because even he wasn’t sure how he’d done it.

“Christ, she must have been an ace in the sack.”

Beau glared at his brother. He wasn’t going to answer that one.

“Did you leave with Betty?” Tucker said, wincing and obviously in pain as he rubbed his forehead.

“No.”

“Huh.”

Beau frowned. “I hate when you say that.”

“What?”

“Huh. Hate it.”

“Huh.”

Irritated, Beau stepped back from the window and grabbed his bag.

“Where’re you going?”

“I’m taking Betty for a ride.”

Tucker sidled up beside him and glanced out the window.

“Really?”

Beau nodded. “Really.”

“Huh.” Tucker put his mug onto the counter and held his hands up in a mock surrender. “Sorry. It slipped out.” He leaned against the sink. “How you planning on getting past the vultures at the end of the driveway?”

Beau slung his bag over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs. “I’ve got a plan.”

“Need help?”

“Nope, got it covered.”

* * *