“Thanks,” Landon said, shaking her hand.
She beamed at him. “Let me buy you a drink.”
Lucas pouted. “The whole team won.”
Julia turned my way. “You want something, Dean?”
Lucas made a plaintive, mewling, cattish sound. “Julia,” he whined, “you know how confused I get when you’re mean to me.”
She stared at him, blank as a sheet of paper. “Because I’m not clear enough?”
In a second, my brother’s smile was back. “Because I’m feline, and I know how incredible it feels when that one person who’s mean to everybody finally warms up to you.”
Julia pursed her lips. “I’m not mean to anyone else. Just you.”
Lucas clutched his chest, but I thought I caught the hint of a smile on her lips as she led Landon to the bar.
For a few minutes, Lucas and I chatted. He asked about the band, and I told him about Craig’s kid and her upcoming performance. That seemed innocuous enough.
But my eyes kept slipping over to Landon. I liked the way his slacks fit him, a bit on the slim side, so when he leaned over to order his ass looked particularly round.
Maybe I was a mess, and being a bit of an audiophile was enough to turn my head, but it wasn’t just that.
He looked good. Smelled good too. And he was smart. I’d always liked smart guys, like if I got close enough to them, some of that would finally rub off on me.
“I think I’m gonna get another drink after all,” I said, finishing off my beer. “You want anything?”
Lucas shook his head. “I’m driving. Better not.”
What kind of big brother would I be to argue with that?
When I went over and leaned against the bar beside Landon, the edge of it bit into my forearm. He breathed in deep and turned to look at me, his eyes wide and blinking, like I’d startled him. I had always been a big cat, so I wasn’t totally unused to people staring at me like I was getting ready to pounce on them, but I wasn’t trying to freak the guy out.
I tried a smile, but his eyes dropped to my mouth and he—he gulped. Fuck, was I scary?
The expression faltered on my face, and I went for a smaller one. Fewer teeth on display.
“So,” I said, “you like the Arctic Monkeys?”
“Ah, yeah. They’re—they’re great.” His cheeks flushed, and he looked down into his glass. “I, um, I saw them live once? In a weird, warehouse kind of venue. It was just this big metal building, and it was so hot, but they were great.”
I breathed out slow through my teeth. “Damn. I wish I could see them live.”
“Oh. Ah, yeah. You should. They’re—well, like I said, they’re great live. Very... energetic. You’ll like them.”
I raised an eyebrow. I wanted to ask how he figured that—ask if Lucas had said anything to him about me other than that I was his brother.
Maybe he’d given Landon my whole tragic backstory. More likely, Lucas would’ve tried to paint me as some rocker savant. That was his usual go-to when he was trying to sell one of his corporate friends on the idea of his wayward brother drifting in for trivia night or a holiday party or the family picnic day or whatever.
But I could practically feel the heat of Landon’s flushed skin, hear the jump in his heart rate when he’d realized I was beside him. I was making him nervous, and nothing I had to offer was worth making him uncomfortable.
“I’ll have to make a point to go next time they’re on tour.”
He swallowed, nodding. “Definitely. You should.”
“Yeah.” I rocked back from the bar but lingered a second. “You were great tonight. At trivia. I hope we can match up again.”
“Thanks,” he croaked with a tiny, wavering smile.
