Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

“Watch this.” Machlan ambles to the other end of the bar and slides a beer down the wooden slats. It lands perfectly in front of Peck. “Nailed it.”

“I told you. It’s all in the wrists,” Peck laughs, tipping the bottle Machlan’s way. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“If you put this much energy into work every day—” Walker starts, but Peck promptly cuts him off.

“As much as you eye-fucked Sienna today while I was working—”

“Don’t start with your shit, Peck,” Walker says.

Peck rolls his eyes and plops his bottle back on the bar. “I will start my shit because I’m exhausted. You better show up tomorrow ready to do some actual labor.”

“Take it easy on him,” I tease, scooting in my seat towards Peck. “I’d have a hard time working too if I had that to go home to. Hell, I’d probably never get out of bed.”

Anticipating the punch before it comes, I duck. His hand dusts the edge of my jacket and misses me entirely.

Machlan laughs. “Getting slow there, Walk.”

“If he gets too slow to—”

I don’t anticipate the second punch. His fist plows into my bicep at about a quarter of the power he could’ve used, jolting me into my cousin. Peck’s beer sloshes out of the neck and splatters the front of his shirt.

“That hurt a little,” I laugh, rubbing my arm.

“It was a warning shot.” He grins like he doesn’t mean it. He did though. He doesn’t play when it comes to Sienna which is mostly the reason I fuck with him.

And Machlan fucks with him.

And Peck fucks with him.

“So was mine,” I wink.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Walker asks, shaking his head.

Peck fiddles with a napkin in front of him. “What about that nurse you’ve been messing around with? With the legs. What happened to her?”

“I haven’t met her yet,” I admit. “Things keep coming up. She works a swing shift thing at a hospital that’s always messing up her schedule.”

“Sounds like an excuse,” Machlan notes with a hint of smugness.

A little unease settles in my stomach because there’s a part of me that thinks so too. It has to be more than a coincidence that our schedules never match. But, when I really think about it, it’s my fault sometimes. Like the time I had to go to Nana’s because her insurance refused to pay for her insulin and I had to go sort it out. Or the time I had an emergency parent-teacher conference that made me cancel on her.

Focusing on that, I wait for the jitters to stop. They don’t. Refusing to consider that maybe it’s not the scheduling part of this little thing that has me off-balance and more like how much I like talking to her, I take a long, unhurried drink.

“What’s that look for?” Peck asks me.

“What look?”

“That one.” He points at my face.

“Probably the headache I’m trying to drink away.” For good measure, I take another swig.

Walker sighs beside me. “Just tell us the story you’re dying to tell.”

“I don’t have a story.”

“You always have a story,” they all say at the same time.

I down the rest of the glass as they laugh.

“Who you fucking? Where you fucking her?” Walker asks. “I went home on Sunday after dinner at Nana’s and thought, ‘Wow. Lance didn’t tell us one story today.’ You go making it two times in a row and I’m gonna have to call Blaire and see what we have to do to get you committed.”

“Our sister is an attorney, not a doctor.”

“Yeah, but who has rights to you?” Walker laughs. “If you lose your mind, which one of us gets to have you committed?”

“Me. Oh, God, let it be me,” Machlan deadpans.

Sliding my drink down the bar, it slams into a napkin dispenser and falls over. The dribbles of Old-Fashion left in the glass slowly pool on the countertop. They go on, teasing me, speculating about everything from my sex life to offering to take an ad out for me online. Bastards.

“I hate all of you,” I mutter, fighting the urge to clean up the spilled drink.

“This answers my original question,” Machlan says.

“What was that?”

“Why you’re in here. You’re just not ready to accept the reason.”

“Why is he in here?” Peck asks, side-eyeing me.

“Because he’s not getting laid.” Machlan says it with the biggest shit-eating grin. “Did you finally work your way through every girl on your fuck app?”

“He did it faster than even I thought he would,” Walker chimes in.

Getting to my feet, I grab a few bills and place them on the bar. Fuck this. “I always get laid. That’s never been a problem.”

“Until now,” Machlan adds.

“Jealousy is an ugly thing, boys,” I call out, heading to the front door. I pause at the bulletin boards and turn back around. “The rest of that isn’t a tip. Put it on Peck’s tab. He’s the only one of you I like.”