Craft (The Gibson Boys 2) - Page 32

“Oh, like you give a damn—” Machlan’s response is thwarted by Nana’s swift hand. “Like you care,” he corrects himself. “If I remember correctly, our conversation just last week in this very pew was highly un-Christ-like.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you boys.” Nana shakes her head. “I’m going to go say hello to the pastor.”

We wait until she’s out of earshot before continuing the conversation. It’s Sienna who speaks first.

“You know she’s going to add your names to the prayer list.”

“Good. I need it,” I grumble. “I’m going to hell. My ticket is punched and I didn’t get to do anything fun for it.”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Walker asks, lacing his fingers with Sienna’s. “You’re acting like someone Lance’d you.”

My brothers snicker. All of them except Walker. He rests his and Sienna’s linked hands on his lap and watches me in a way only he can.

He has no idea why I refuse to get into a relationship, but he does know how it feels to avoid them. He fought love hard with Sienna but she broke him down. I can’t let Mariah do that to me.

“Ah, did Lance get his heart broken?” Machlan chimes in.

I narrow my eyes. “No. I did not. You can’t get your heart broken when you don’t let it get involved.”

“Then what the hell is this about?” Machlan counters. “You were up late. You apparently took a girl to Nana’s. You’re in here pussyfooting around.”

“Sounds like you when Hadley broke your heart.” Cross tosses me a wink. “What do you think, Mach?”

All heads whip to my youngest brother to see his reaction. He and Hadley, Cross’s sister, had an epic ending a while back. It’s not something any of us bring up. As a matter of fact, we kind of skirt around the issue of Hadley altogether.

I’ve postulated that Hadley is the reason why Machlan is still single. It doesn’t make sense otherwise. He’s good-looking, a near reflection of me, and he owns a bar. He’s also not averse to love. What guy owning a bar who looks like me and wouldn’t mind being in a relationship is still single? A guy who is still torn up over a girl.

“I think you can go to Hell.” Machlan doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look Cross’s way. Cross says something loud enough for only him to hear and they go at it animatedly.

“Need advice?” Sienna asks me softly. “I’m really good at it.”

“Not really. I think I’m good.”

Peck leans forward, his blond hair flopping against his forehead. “Can I say I’m disappointed this had nothing to do with the nurse?”

I contemplate not saying anything to him, but consider that if I do, there’s a chance I’ll feel better. I thought I’d be over it this morning. Instead, I think I feel even more guilty.

It’s stupid as hell. What do I have to feel guilty for? Why did my guilt button decide to turn on? Life without one is bliss. This? This is horrible.

“Cousin,” I say to Peck. “You’ll be happy to know I’m meeting her later.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

He studies me. “For whatever reason, I expected more of a reaction.”

“Well, I’m meeting her to not fuck her.”

“Wait,” Walker interjects as music begins to play. “Isn’t that counterproductive? You use the app so you can get laid, right? Or have I had it wrong all this time?”

“Nope. You got it,” I sigh.

Sienna’s eyes are wide as she tries to make sense of the senselessness. “I’m thoroughly confused, Lance.”

“Join the club.”

The choir starts singing and I bow my head and hope for some guidance.

We’re standing around Daisy, Walker’s truck, when Nana walks up. She steadies herself on Machlan’s arm.

“Who’s coming for dinner? I need an idea of how many potatoes to peel.”

“I thought you were making a roast?” I ask.

“I was, but I forgot to get the meat out last night. It’s terrible getting old.”

“You aren’t old,” Machlan tells her, resting his cheek on the side of her head. “You’re seasoned.”

She laughs, patting him on the stomach. “You coming to eat?”

“Do I ever miss a meal at your house?”

“What about you kids, Walker?” she asks.

“Sienna and I will be there.”

“Peck?”

“What are you making?” He slings an arm over the side of Walker’s truck. “If I bring stuff for a cheeseball, will you make it?”

“I already have one in the fridge,” she tells him. “Better beat these boys over or there won’t be any left.” She kisses the side of Machlan’s face, squeezing his cheeks in her hand, before turning to me. “Walk me to my car, Lance.”

Extending my elbow, she hooks her arm through it and guides me across the gravel. We walk quietly for a bit. She waves at the pastor and again at Ruby, the little old lady who runs the town library. It’s not until we’re at the door to her car that she gets down to business.

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