Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

I start to get up to go find Dylan and talk her into getting a burger somewhere else when she slides up next to me.

“Hey,” Dylan says. Her smile falters as she assesses the situation. “Am I interrupting something?”

Molly’s hand goes to my shoulder. “Oh, no. You aren’t interrupting,” she says sweetly. “I was just talking to Peck.” She runs a fingertip down my arm.

Dylan watches Molly’s antics. “Oh. Okay. Don’t mind me.”

I expect her to leave, but to my amusement, she doesn’t. She sits on the stool to my right. I can’t fight a chuckle as Dylan stands her ground against a woman most women avoid.

Molly bristles to my left. “Who are you again?” she asks Dylan.

“Molly …” I warn under my breath. I hear the edge in her voice that indicates she’s about to get out of hand.

Shaking my arm out from under her hand, I sigh. “Molly, don’t you need to go find Megan?”

“No. Megan’s a big girl. She’ll be fine,” she says.

“It’s nice to meet you, Molly,” Dylan says. There’s an emphasis of her name—a confirmation that she’s put a few things together. Namely, that this is the person she’s heard about me being in love with.

Shit.

“I’m Dylan Snow,” she says.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“No. No, you haven’t. I’m new to town.” Dylan lets her gaze drop to mine. She’s hesitant, careful even, as she picks her eyes back up and looks at Molly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Molly laughs. “I’m sure you have.”

Dylan takes a step back. Her posture is more rigid, her jaw set firmer than before. Still, a practiced smile is on her face.

“Peck,” she says, “I’m going to head on out. I’ve had enough excitement for one day. See you at home.”

I cringe as I look at Molly out of the corner of my eye. Her brows shoot to the ceiling. She grabs my forearm instinctively as she recovers from the shock of Dylan’s words.

“You didn’t mention a roommate,” Molly coos beside me. “Is this your cousin or something?”

“Nope. Not a cousin,” I say. That would make a lot of thoughts incestuous.

“Oh.”

I should say something. I should at least try to explain the situation to Molly and get her to go find Megan and do whatever it is she does on Friday nights.

But I don’t.

I don’t say a word because there’s a hint of misbehavior in Dylan’s eyes that I kind of want to see play out. She has the situation under control.

“No, we aren’t cousins,” Dylan says with a laugh. “That would make things … weird.”

“That would make a lot of things really weird,” I agree.

Our eyes meet in the space between us. Even though we aren’t touching, we’re close enough to kickstart the buzz I feel when we’re together. I want to reach out and touch her—even if it’s the top of her hand.

She searches me for an answer to a question I’m not privy to. But the longer she looks, the more my stomach clenches. Because what if I don’t have the answer? Or what if she doesn’t like the one she finds?

“As Peck’s closest and oldest friend—” Molly begins but is cut off by Machlan.

“Yeah, that’s my title,” Machlan says. He wipes the bar in front of us. “It’s definitely not yours.” He flips Molly a disgusted look before venturing away.

Molly ignores him much the same way she ignores everyone. “Peck and I have been friends since we were children. Isn’t that right? We’ve spent many nights together, curled up in his room, watching the sunrise—”

“Molly, I—”

“Why do you wear this hat?” Molly interrupts me. She takes off my hat and runs her fingers through my hair. “I love the red one with the blue socks on the front better. It brings out the blue in your eyes. I wish you hadn’t lost the one with the fish on it. It was so you.”

I duck out from underneath her hand and take my hat back from her. I shove it on my head. “Molly, stop.”

“What?” she asks, a tinge of hurt in her voice. “Am I not allowed to play with your hair anymore?”

I roll my eyes.

Dylan laughs, getting to her feet. “Peck, tonight has been … real.” She glances over my head at Molly. She laughs again and lets her gaze fall back to me. “See ya later.”

She gives me a final smile, one that’s laced with annoyance, and walks right out of the bar as if she owns the damn place.

I’m still watching the door when Molly sits down beside me in the chair Dylan just vacated.

“What the hell was that?” Molly asks.

I drag my eyes back to her. “Just stop. You don’t care. You just want—”

“I always care. You know that.”

Her eyes soften as her entire face shifts to something more vulnerable. It’s true—she’s vulnerable. But not in the way she’s playing me right now.