14
Linc had no right to be jealous. Everything happening was his fault. And he didn’t even think of himself as a jealous kind of guy. He never felt the need to stake his claim on something and accuse others of taking what was his. Maybe because his dad would fly into a rage any time he thought he’d been the least bit disrespected or challenged, and Linc had done his very best not to be like him at every possible chance.
But, holy hell, he wanted to grab the hipster who had spent all night talking to Avery by his suspenders and tell him to go sniff up someone else’s hydrant.
Were hipsters even still a thing? This guy was certainly trying. Linc wore suspenders daily at work, but who wore them in real life when a belt was so much easier to deal with?
And why did he have to keep touching Avery? Every time Linc glanced toward them—more and more often as the party went on—they were pressed together. A hand on a knee, a chin on a shoulder. Hipster would say something in Avery’s ear, and Avery would laugh and lean into him like they were old friends. Or more. Linc swallowed hard and kept his hand flat against his thigh as Hipster pressed a palm across Avery’s chest.
“Having a good time?” Vasquez sidled up to him. Linc grunted. She grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
Avery and Hipster were standing in a corner. Hipster’s hand slid lower, grazing Avery’s hip, and he slipped a finger through one of Avery’s belt loops.
Linc nearly choked on his tongue. He’d spent most of the night talking to Brian and his wife, Jess, pretending he wasn’t checking on Avery’s location—and the hipster’s proximity—every thirty seconds. But when Jess started rubbing her low back and looking uncomfortable, Brian made their apologies and they headed out, leaving Linc nothing to do but brood.
Vasquez followed his gaze, nudging him in the ribs. “I see the Sweet Potato’s having a good time.”
Avery turned his face up to Hipster’s and smiled. Linc’s chest hurt. He had blown it, so he wasn’t entitled to those smiles, but he wanted them so badly.
“Have you met Quinn?” Vasquez said.
“Who?” He scowled at her.
She bumped her chin toward the hipster. “Wanda’s brother.”
“Is that who he is?” Linc took a swig of his drink. He’d switched to soda about twenty minutes after Avery walked in because if he stuck with booze, he’d be embarrassing himself like he had with Oliver.
“Yup. Visiting from Raleigh. It was such a great surprise that he was coming down for this.”
Sure was. Such a kind brother. Linc wanted to put him on the first bus out of the state.
“I could introduce you?” Vasquez said. “He’s really friendly.”
“So I see.” It slipped out, the words dripping green.
“Aw.” Vasquez pouted. “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“No to what?” Wanda came over.
“Scott’s not jealous,” Vasquez said.
“Of who?”
“Of your brother and the smoldering sweet potato.”
“Oh.” Wanda slid an arm around Vasquez’s waist. “They’re so cute, aren’t they?”
“Totally. Right, Scott?”
His temper simmered beneath his skin. Quinn’s hand was on Avery’s hip, but instead of pushing it away, he pulled it around to the small of his back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He should leave. He’d be a masochist to watch this.
“They look better together than I thought they would.” Wanda tilted her head to one side.
“I told you.”
