Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

“You know,” Walker says, his voice falling over his shoulder, “it’s okay to like her.”

I smack the wrench off the frame of the truck. “What are you talking about?”

My annoyance must be palpable because Walker drops the sheet of paper in his hand. He turns around and raises a brow.

I wipe my hands down my jeans. A trail of grease stretches down the denim, and while that usually drives me crazy because it’ll get all over everything by the end of the day, I barely notice.

“She’s staying with me,” I say. Again. “There’s nothing to get all nuts about.”

His arms cross over his chest. “That right there is you calling me a dumb fuck.”

“What?” I ask, exasperated. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You saying there’s nothing between you two is calling me a dumb fuck because I’m not fucking blind, Peck. Neither is Nana.”

“Nana just wants us all to get married and have babies so she doesn’t have to worry about us anymore.”

He considers this. “Okay. That’s probably true. But she does have some fifth sense about shit, and she says you and Dylan are together.”

“It’s sixth sense, not fifth sense, and she just likes her because she volunteered to help her rearrange her kitchen,” I say.

It’s a lie. A bald-faced fib that I hope gets Walker to back off.

But it doesn’t. That would be too easy.

Walker’s face remains blank for a long time. Then a slow smile stretches across his cheeks. “I get it.”

“You get what?”

“You feel like you’re cheating on Molly McCarter.”

What the fuck?

“I do not,” I say with a sigh. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“How could it not? You’re the one saying you’re gonna marry her one day.”

“And I would if she’d marry me.”

Walker shakes his head. “I don’t get ya.”

“Good.”

He drops his arms in a frustrated huff. “If I could knock some sense in you, I would.”

Despite his pushiness and the way he needles me, he wants the best for me. He’d never say that. He’d pretend he doesn’t care for the most part. But he does care, and that’s what this is all about.

I sigh. “Look, since we’re pretending to be a bunch of gossiping girls right now, I’ll play along so this can be over.”

“I take offense at you calling me a girl.”

“Don’t care.” I grab a rag off the wall and wipe my hands off. “Dylan is a great girl. I like her. She’s funny, and nice, and yes, she’s hot. And pretty. And she’s not staying with me. I don’t even know if she’s staying in Linton for long.”

“You could ask her.”

I toss the rag in the trash. “You’re right. I could. But it’s none of my business. She wants a relationship about as bad as I do.”

“So she’s scared to like someone who might be a decent person and like her back too? Got it.”

My eyes roll so hard that I’m afraid they might get stuck.

Walker laughs. “I got it. I know what to do.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”

“I’m going to find a hitwoman and put a mark on Molly.”

“What does Molly have to do with anything?”

He raises a brow.

I blow out a breath. “Would I marry Molly? Yes. If she loved me, I’d marry her right now. But she doesn’t love me,” I say. The words burn my throat as I say them. “She doesn’t love me like that. I’m not sure she’ll ever love someone like that. But at least I’d protect her.”

“She needs protecting from herself is what she needs.”

My jaw clenches again.

I turn away from my cousin and walk outside. The fresh air hits me in the face, the breeze stronger than it was when I got here an hour ago.

I inhale a large breath, and something in the air reminds me of wet paint. Just like that, my mind is taken back to a night many years ago.

Tap! Tap!

I look out the window. A little girl with messy pigtails is on the other side of the glass. Her eyes are filled with tears. Her lip is split. And as soon as I lift the window open, she starts to cry.

“Can I come inside, Peck? Please? I need to hide for a little bit.”

My chest burns as I turn around. Walker is watching me from beside the truck.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Fine.”

“Good. Old Man Jacobsen called. His tractor is sitting out by the highway. Thinks he got some bad gas. Can you go out and help him?”

I nod and start out toward my truck.

“Peck,” Walker calls out.

I grab the door handle and swing it open.

“You’re a good guy.” He grins. “And if you tell a damn soul I said that, I’ll call you a liar.”

I smirk. “I’m a good guy, huh? Is that why it bothers you so much that your girlfriend loves me?”