Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

Sure, he’s adorable with a heavy dose of subtle sexiness that’s pretty incredible. But he also seems like really good friendship material. He can take a joke. His patience runs deep. Quite frankly, he’s the kind of guy I should make friends with.

If he’s in love with someone else, won’t that make it easier? He’ll friend-zone me right from the start.

I press off the cabinet as the doorbell rings.

“Grab that, Dyl. Please,” Navie calls out from her bedroom.

I suck in a deep breath and make my way to the door. I tug it open.

“Heya, Dylan.”

Peck smiles brightly on the other side of the doorway. Clean jeans stretch down his long legs, and he’s traded a diesel company’s shirt in for an eighties rock band. A blue baseball hat with white stitched L.A. sits on his head.

“Hey, Peck.” I step to the side so he can walk in. “How are ya?”

My voice is too high. It’s like my brain worries that Peck could somehow telepathically know I was just mulling over his love life and feels embarrassed. Either he doesn’t pick up on it, or he’s too well-mannered to point it out.

“Great. Something smells good in here,” he says.

“I just threw a little spaghetti and meatballs together. Easy supper, you know?”

“That sounds like it would be a big pain in the ass to make, actually.”

I grin. “Well, not true, but I’m happy to play along. You should be so grateful I went to all this trouble to make a pain in the ass dinner for you.”

The blues of his eyes match his hat. I can see it as he moves toward the window. The light makes his irises shine, blending different shades of aqua together.

“Let’s be honest,” he says. “This isn’t for me. It’s for you.”

“What’s for me?”

“This dinner. It’s an apology dinner because you have guilt.” He turns on his heel and looks at me. A giant smirk lights up his face. “As you should.”

I gasp. “I have no such thing … Well, not much,” I admit. “But I’m not making you dinner out of guilt.”

“Huh.”

I try to glare at him but can’t quite get it just right because of his stupid smirk. My efforts are saved by Navie.

She flings her bedroom door open with a flourish before striding into the room with not just a new shirt but also different jeans and sneakers too.

The ones she wears at work.

I give her a look she pretends not to see.

“Hey, Peck. Welcome to my humble abode,” she says, holding her arms out to the sides like a game show host. “I wish I could stay and have dinner with you guys, but Machlan just called and said he needs me to come in. Who am I to say no to the boss?”

Peck raises a brow. “You. Every damn time you work.”

“Well, he really seemed like he needed me this time.”

“I’m sure he did,” I deadpan. “You’re a terrible liar, Navie.”

Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she gently pushes Peck out of the way. “I’ll see you two later.”

The door closes with a loud wumpth.

My eyes flick to Peck’s. I have no idea what he’s going to say now about being stuck here with just me. I’m not sure what I even have to say about this because I was not prepared. Not that this is anything to prepare for. It’s just an apology dinner between two potential friends. No big deal.

My stomach ripples as his lips part, and the easiest smile ever is shot my way. Immediately, tension I didn’t know I had melts away from my shoulders, and I sink into a smile of my own.

“I’m glad she’s gone,” he says.

My mouth goes dry. “Why?”

“Have you ever seen how much that girl can eat? Now that she’s gone, that just means more meatballs for me.” He winks as he walks by me and into the kitchen area. “Tell me you made garlic bread.”

A laugh topples from my lips. “I did.”

He takes a plate off the table. “Can I fill my plate?”

“Sure.”

He busies himself with the pasta and garlic bread. “What did you do today? Accost any other unsuspecting guys about crimes they didn’t commit?”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?” I take a plate and begin filling it too.

“Nope.”

We finish getting our dinner in silence. The only sound in the apartment is the silverware clamoring against our plates as we load up with spaghetti.

In a few moments, we sit across from each other at the table. Peck removes his hat and hangs it on the back of his chair. His hair sticks up wildly as though he put the hat on it while it was still wet. I have to force myself to look away.

I clear my throat. “So you asked what I did today. I actually got a call from the landlord at my new digs. He said I can get the keys tomorrow.”