The master suite isn’t part of the tour, but we’re all nosy so we peek inside anyway, swooning at the wall of windows that overlook the lake.
The tour circles back downstairs and to the front of the house and ends in the dining room.
“And here’s where we’ll have dinner,” Brinley says, a little breathless.
The dining room has vaulted ceilings and more large windows, these overlooking the expansive front yard. A long walnut table with a live edge sits in the center of the room, upholstered chairs at each of the ten spots.
Each of the place settings is labeled with one of our names.
Dean finds his and grins at me. “Looks like it’s my lucky night. I’m right next to you, Abbi.”
My cheeks heat. It’s not that I’m ashamed of what’s happening between me and Dean, but if our friends find out, they’ll make something more of it than it is. The last thing Dean needs is Stella coming after him for leading me on.
I don’t know if she’d understand that I can handle what’s happening between me and Dean. I can handle the inevitable end of it too. I’ll have to. He never promised me more.
“Your home is beautiful. Thank you for having us over,” I say, giving Brinley a quick squeeze before skirting around the table to find my seat.
“You’re welcome anytime,” Brinley says.
“It’s amazing,” Stella says, eyeing the beams on the vaulted ceiling. “Kace, when are you going to fix me up a place like this?”
“Would you move in with me if I did?” he asks with an arched brow.
Stella shrugs. “I don’t know. Depends how well you do.”
Kace grabs her sides, tickling her, and she folds over, giggling.
Marston clears his throat uncomfortably. “I second what Brinley says. You’re all welcome anytime. We’re grateful for your friendship.”
“Hear, hear!” Smithy says, hoisting a glass of amber liquid in the air. Bourbon, if I had to guess.
Dean cocks his head and frowns at him. “Where did you get that?”
Smithy shrugs as he takes a sip. “There was a bourbon bar in the library. I assumed the happy couple wanted us to make ourselves at home.”
“We didn’t even show you the library,” Brinley says. “How did you end up in there?”
“I saw the bourbon,” Smithy says, as if this explains everything.
Everyone laughs and finds their spots at the table, and Marston fills our glasses with a Pinot Noir he says pairs well with the duck we’re having for dinner. He admits that Brinley prepared our meal herself, and we all gape at her in disbelief. To say that Brinley isn’t the cook of the group is an understatement.
“I’m learning a few things in the kitchen,” she says.
“I could’ve cooked, Brinley,” I say. “I don’t mind.”
She waves a hand in my direction. “It’s your evening off. I’m not going to put you to work.”
“Abbi’s just worried we’re about to eat something that tastes more like roadkill than gourmet,” Stella says.
I elbow her in the side. “I am not.”
“I promise I followed the directions,” Brinley says, flashing me a smile before disappearing into the kitchen.
Marston and Brinley work together to serve everyone their pre-plated meal, and someone starts passing rolls around the table, everyone chattering happily as we dig into our meal.
The duck actually is incredible. “I’m so impressed, Brin,” I say, taking the last bite of mine not long later. “That was so good.”
“You mean it?” she asks, beaming. “I was so nervous what you’d think. I bought the duck because the guy at the butcher said you can’t dry it out, but when I was researching recipes online, I kept seeing all these warnings about how you have to score it correctly, and since I didn’t think they meant on a scale of one to ten, I realized I was in over my head.” She goes on, rambling a bit about how she prepared the meal, but I barely hear a word.
Under the table, Dean’s hand has found my thigh. He’s stroking subtly, slowly inching upward.
I always fantasized about what it’d be like to be the kind of girl who was so beautiful that her guy could never take his hands off her. To be so attractive that your boyfriend would find any moment possible to touch you and kiss you.
Any heartache that’s coming my way—and let’s be honest, it surely is—will be worth it. I’ll get to know what it was like to be wanted. To be desired. I always imagined this, but never thought I’d get to experience it for myself. I might not understand it, but Dean wants me. Maybe it’s just the secrecy, the forbidden, that turns him on. My brother is his business partner and best friend. We’re messing around right under our friends’ noses.
Whatever the reason, I relish these moments. His attention. The hot look in his eyes when I catch him watching me. Heat floods my veins as he strokes the outside of my thigh, and is ignited as he strokes higher.