Corbin’s the one with a bit of gray in his beard. Jonathan looks to be the youngest, with a thick head of hair the color of strong black coffee, and a dark, scruffy beard. His grin adds to the sensations fluttering somewhere south of the snap on my jeans. I should not be getting tingles from someone young enough to be my … much younger brother.
“And you are?” Corbin prompts.
“Christine.”
“Christine …?” He draws my name out, inviting me to share my full name.
“You don’t really need to know my last name,” I say, swiping my towel across the counter in front of them.
“We do if we’re going to become longtime acquaintances,” Brendan says.
“Longtime acquaintances? I’ve never seen you in here before. Are you new to the island?”
“We’re visiting,” Jonathan says. “First time here, actually.”
I nod slowly, feeling both unsettled and intrigued by these men. “Welcome to Four Points, then. Are you enjoying your visit?”
“We like what we see here,” Corbin says. “A lot.” His eyes dip down to my chest and linger before returning to my face, making his meaning crystal clear. I’m wearing a black, Rusty’s-branded polo shirt with only two buttons undone, so it’s not like he’s getting a view of anything exciting. My skin heats nevertheless.
“What can I get you to drink?” I ask, vaguely aware that my other customers are in need of refills.
Brendan grins at me, the crinkles at the sides of his eyes giving me the impression he smiles easily and frequently. “What’s your specialty?”
I’m not sure I can handle the looks these three will give me if I tell them my signature drink is a dirty screw. Instead, I ask, “Are you beer drinkers?” When they nod, I say, “We have a great selection of craft brews. Would you like to see the list?”
“Surprise us,” Brendan says.
I would usually pour someone a glass of our most popular local brand. Instead, I give each of the brothers a long look, partly to work out what they might like, and partly to enjoy their handsome faces. Each of them looks back at me in turn, and I’m shocked by how my body responds to their seductive expressions.
I can’t remember the last time a man affected me this way. The men who own Rusty’s, the Stone brothers, are objectively very good looking, but they never made my insides flutter. Hell, I didn’t even have this kind of response to the male strip-show performers I saw when I was in Vegas a few years ago.
These three — the Hayes brothers — are sitting here fully clothed, grinning at me with their impossibly beautiful eyes, and I’m ready to throw my panties at them!
I turn my back and duck down to survey the bottles in the cooler. My options are visible through the glass, but I open the doors so that the cold air can temper the heat building inside me.
When I stand again, I’m holding two bottles in one hand, one in the other, my palms circled around the necks in a way that puts me in mind of holding certain male body parts. When I meet the men’s eyes, I suspect they’re thinking the same thing, though they’ve had devilish looks on their faces since I first saw them.
I pop the caps off the bottles and pour the beers, one at a time, into glasses, tilting each glass for the first part of the pour to develop the right amount of head on each one. I give the malty pale ale to Jonathan, the spicy tripel to Corbin, and a dark, roasty porter to Brendan.
“Interesting choices,” Corbin says.
“If you don’t like these, let me know. I’ll get you something else.”
“Should we toast?” Brendan asks. He and his brothers all look to me.
“I don’t drink while I’m working.” And it’s a good thing, too. After a few cocktails, I might lose my good sense and throw myself at these men.
“Whatever you have then,” Brendan says.
I sip from a large water bottle while I work, so I grab that and hold it out. Their eyes lock on mine as they raise their glasses.
“To us,” Brendan says.
“Us?” I ask, lifting a brow in question.
“To us and the start of our longtime acquaintance,” he says.
I shrug, and to keep from getting lost in their gorgeous blue eyes, I tilt my head back and take a drink, the ice water having little effect on my rampaging hormones.