Heartburn (Love By Design 3)

“I don’t think Remi minds.” I pointed out how her attention was already drawn to the football players crowding inside Easton’s.

“Well, I do.” Hunter grumbled.

“That’s a shit show ever there.” Damien muttered acknowledging the rowdy crowd. Ah, memories. I’m sure there was a time we were the rowdy crowd instead of three grown men sitting at the bar by ourselves reminiscing.

“Call her by her name respectfully and I’ll let you try procreating in about twenty years from now when your balls drop and you finally grow up.” Hunter takes his beer from Remi who swayed between tables filling up drink requests.

“So what’s going on?” Hunter asked diverting us back to the topic of why I texted them to meet me.

“Feels like a regular church lady sewing circle.” Damien stared at the football players intently and I swore if he got us into a bar fight I’d let our cop friend Evan arrest his ass with zero bail and call it a night.

Hunter chuffed letting his own southern roots show. “You ain’t never stepped inside a church and if you did the good lord would’ve struck you with lightening by now.”

Damien ignored his cousin and turned himself on the bar stool to address me. “Why did you invite us tonight?” He thumbed in Hunter’s direction, “Because that man is killing my buzz right now.”

“Just trying to figure out what I should do about this girl I met.”

Damien shook his head muttering man-gina finishing off his beer while I gave Hunter the backstory. I told them basically everything except the gooey sweet s’more moments by the fire. That was a visual for my personal collection only.

“Well, if there’s anything I learned, it’s that you don’t let a good one get away.”

I let that sink in for a moment.

“She have a sister?” Of course Damien would ask that, unmitigated idiot he was.

“Yes, and no, you’re never meeting my woodland pixie.”

“Oh it’s like that, is it.” Damien snickered.

I groused back. “I think the sister lives in Brooklyn and you are not fucking this up for me.”

“So unfair.” He slapped his hands on the bar exasperated. “I bang one chick who happens to be related and y’all freak the fuck out.” Damien made it sound like he’d gotten a speeding ticket or lost his favorite ballcap.

Hunter went full thermonuclear and I couldn’t blame the guy. Most people went ballistic trying to keep up with Damien. I wanted to say that was part of his charm, but I’d be lying.

“Damien, a second cousin twice removed, is still a second cousin no matter how far removed.” Hunter shook his head and I cringed trying desperately to scrub my mind from imagining any of that happening.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” I muttered.

Hunter clapped me on the back commiserating.

“You see what I had to live with. This is why I had to build my own house to escape.”

Damien drifted off speaking. “She definitely knew a few tricks with her tongue I wasn’t prepared for.”

Both Hunter and I took a moment to digest that before scrunching our faces up all disgusted. “Yeah, drink more of that beer in your hand. Wash the taste out.” Hunter tipped his own beer back and I followed the same. We waved at Remi to bring us new ones. Not enough alcohol in this bar to kill those cooties.

“Ah come on guys, how was I supposed to know that we were related–distantly, I might add?”

“Seriously?” Hunter slammed his beer down eyeballing Damien like he wanted to set him on fire. Couldn’t say I blamed the guy either.

Damien shrugged non-pulsed like the conversation was long over. I had an inkling Hunter disagreed.

“We were at a damn family reunion in Alabama.” Yup. He definitely did not agree. Hunter’s face wore exhaustion well when it came to trying to figure out Damien.

“Halley Sue…” Damien mused between sipping his beer. “She sure knew how to welcome a guy. That was some sweet home Alabama stuff right there.”

Hunter growled standing up and I got in between them before we got kicked out of the only bar we considered a home away from home. I doubted Andy and David would appreciate us breaking up the joint since they weren’t finished with the remodeling.