Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)

“We can’t do it now?”

“Do you want to do it now?” He licks his lips, reminding me of his promise.

“No,” I giggle, hopping up onto the counter.

“That’s what I thought.”

He slides between my legs. “This is the first time you’ve ever opted not to talk.”

“Now you know how to shut me up.”

He laughs, dipping his lips to touch mine. Even though it’s not what he promised, I’ll take it.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU told Blaire about the dating app?” Lance eyes his brothers and then Peck. “Was it you?”

Peck holds his hands up in front of him. “Wasn’t me. I haven’t talked to her in a couple weeks, not since I needed to know the legal ramifications of borrowing Kip’s Sheriff cruiser.”

“Why did you do that?” I laugh, snuggling against Walker’s shoulder. He strokes my arm, leaning his cheek against my head while we listen to his family.

“It’s a long story that really won’t come out right,” Peck winces. “You had to be there.”

“What did Blaire say?” I ask.

He shrugs, bringing a bottle to his lips. “She called Kip. I don’t think he’s coming after me or anything.”

“Back to the topic at hand,” Lance says, “which one of you told her about the app? I got sixty-two texts from her today, detailing the hazards of using an app and meeting people online.”

“Like she hasn’t fucked some dude she met online,” Machlan snorts. “I don’t believe that bullshit for a second.”

Nora places a hand on Peck’s shoulder as she looks around the table. “Anyone need anything? Sure is quiet up there without you, Mach. The women don’t want to talk to me, I guess.”

Machlan smirks, his eyes as dark as Walker’s are sparkling. “Give ’em enough whiskey and you can get them to do whatever you want.”

“Ew,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I think I’m going to puke.”

Peck scoots away from the table, taking his bottle with him. “Come on, Nora. I’ll go talk to ya.”

The bar is quiet for a Friday night; the “regulars,” as Machlan called them, are the only ones in the place. The music isn’t too loud, the chaos not as crazy as it has been in times past. I keep looking around for Tommy, but Machlan assured me he hasn’t shown his face again since Walker rearranged it.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, he kisses the side of my head. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” I say. Glancing around at the Gibson boys, Machlan giving Lance hell about a woman they both apparently know, Peck at the bar entertaining Nora, I realize just how good I am.

“What are you thinking?” Walker asks, his mouth pressed against my temple.

“I’d like to bring my sister here someday. She wouldn’t have a clue what to do with your brothers, but she’d get a kick out of Peck,” I say. “I should bring her in the winter and make her see what I’ve been dealing with up here.”

“I love the winter,” Walker says.

“You what? How could you? It’s horrible.”

“This year we’re taking you to Bluebird,” Machlan says, leaning forward. “It’s old stripper hills that we’ve been sledding since we could walk. Funnest shit you’ll ever do. Even Mr. Lame here goes.”

“I’m not lame, you asshole,” Lance snorts. “I’m often busy with work-related responsibilities.”

Machlan looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “I know what you were doing and it had nothing to do with history.”

“It’s history now,” Lance grins before taking a long drink of his beer. “But, yeah, we’ll take you out there, Sienna. You’ll love it. We fill thermoses up with hot chocolate and spend the day out there acting like idiots.”

“Grown men sledding?” I laugh. “Do you go, Walker?”

“I usually take a car hood or two to use as sleds,” he shrugs. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Look at these pics from last year . . .” Machlan digs out his phone and starts swiping through the list. “Come on. Get over here, Slugger.”

“Not you too,” I whine, untangling myself from Walker. Moving around the table, I look at Machlan’s phone. Pictures of all of them in the snow, bundled up in overalls and beanies, trying to go down this ginormous hill fill the screen. There are snaps of snowball fights, a little blood in the snow from a busted lip, and someone trying to stand on one of the car hoods.

It looks like one of the best days ever.

“That’s amazing,” I tell them, pausing on a picture of them with their arms around each other. “We need to print that.”

When I look up at Walker, his eyes are trained over my shoulder. My smile fades as his jaw drops slowly towards the table.

“What?” I ask. Looking at Lance, he’s looking the same direction. “What’s going on, guys?”

I turn around to face the door, my heart sinking. Scanning the bar, from Nora and Peck to the wall of beer signage and mirrors on the other, there’s nothing there. Just a group of people that have been there all night.