“Do you sleep under your flag too, TJ?”
“Too?” Brad raised a brow at Newman’s question.
“At least we have a flag. Now shut the fuck up, because I'm ready to hand out some hurt.” Ethan spun his cap backward. “Unless you girls are scared?”
Hoots of laughter followed that as Brad did the same.
“You played this before, because we don’t go easy on people because they’re slow.”
“Soccer? Sure, I got it nailed, don't sweat it,” Brad drawled.
The play was dirty, clothes were ripped, curses filled the air, and after a rough start where Cubby threatened to arrest him if he didn't get his shit together, Brad thought he handled himself well. His ribs ached, and he was sure there’d be some bruises in the morning, but he had to admit it was fun.
“And that, gentleman,” Buster crowed, “I believe has us as winners.” Picking up the ball, he did a surprisingly light-footed jig around the still prone Texan at his feet. It was the second lap that did him in. Ethan swung out a foot, and the baker landed on his ass.
The sun was high and Brad's clothes stuck to him as he followed the others to the edge of the lake.
Jake stripped to his boxers and ran past Brad. Leaping off the bank, he let out a loud whoop and cannonballed into the water. The others soon followed, with Brad last in. He was dunked, wrestled, and generally messed with. Resistance, he realized, coming up for air the third time, was futile. He was the junior in this group and therefore fair game. Eventually they ran out of energy and floated about like pieces of driftwood.
Brad looked up at the blue sky and thought this was about the most relaxed he'd felt in a while. He'd never wanted people that he formed a bond with, hadn't been raised that way, but he could understand now why Ethan loved it here.
They sat drying in the sun and ate chicken and potato salad subs, drinking beers. Talk went from topic to topic, settling for a while on Buchanan business.
“Hard to imagine Macy slapping that she-devil Nadine,” Jake said. “Maybe once, not anymore.”
“She's stronger than she looks.”
“How do you figure that?” Buster asked Brad.
Aware that he was suddenly the focus of all eyes, he made himself shrug.
“Just an observation. You people watch over her, mother her, but she's strong. No woman could go through what she has and not be.”
He took another pull on his beer as silence settled around the small group. Ethan broke it.
“Huh, never thought of it that way. She was just so broken, I never really looked to see if she'd strengthened up again.”
“I'm not close, so I can see stuff you idiots can't, I guess.”
“Sure, there's that,” Cubby said. “There's also the other stuff.”
Suddenly the sheriff of Howling was back, steely eyed and focused on Brad.
“Stuff?” Brad kept his voice neutral.
“What's the word I'm looking for here, boys?”
“I'm thinking it's chemistry,” Newman said from his horizontal position, feet crossed at the ankles, arms pillowing his head.
Cubby flicked his fingers in agreement.
“The very one. So what's the deal with Macy?”
Brad had walked in and out of boardrooms, made decisions, and run with some pretty high rollers in his life, but strangely this man was making him edgy.
“My take is, she's mid to late twenties,” Brad said, stalling. “Below average in height, sweet face, and has a nice little boy called Billy. Runs a store in town, which now has a way better layout.”
“Not quite what he was after, but I have to agree with the layout,” Jake said. “I damaged a shin every time I went in there.”
