As they walk away, we hear Grant tease, “Well, the fried pickles are particularly delicious this year, Griffin,” followed by Griffin’s groan.
“Wow,” Ames says, blinking after them. “How’d Beckett manage to make all that happen?”
“It’s his special brand of magic,” Vivian laughs. “But I wonder where Milo and his friend?—?”
“Right here, Vivian.”
Two men materialize at Vivian’s side. One is a familiar platinum-blond twink in a hot pink shirt—Griffin’s friend Milo. The other is a guy I’ve never met before, with light hair and slightly hunched shoulders.
“We were keeping a safe distance because Griff has been in amood,” Milo offers.
Ames laughs. “That’s true friendship, Milo.”
The taller guy elbows Milo slightly and murmurs, “Griffin’s just nervous, I think. He wants everything to go well.”
“I know.” Milo casts an affectionate look in the direction Griffin just disappeared. “But when he gets like that, he needs his lumberjack.” He smiles at me and Ames. “Oh, hey, you guys haven’t met my friend Merritt yet, have you? Merritt, this is Ames—the littlest Axford. And that’s Robbie… the, uh…biggest, I guess you could say.”
I snort, amused.
Ames rolls his eyes, very muchnot.
Merritt sticks out his hand to shake ours, and when he lifts his head?—
I hear Ames’s sucked-in breath, and I get it. Holy fuck. The guy’sbeautiful. Not gorgeous like Ames, with the irresistible bright fire of a meteor storm, but fine lines and dreamy eyes that are very nice to look at.
After Ames and I both shake his hand, Ames wraps a possessive arm around my waist and catches two fingers in my belt loop, like he wants to make sure the guy knows we’re not actually brothers and that I’m very much not available. I lean into Ames’s side, knowing he’s strong enough to support my weight and needing to be closer.
Fuck, I really need to get Ames alone. At least for a minute.
“You boys having fun?” Vivian asks Milo.
He nods. “A shocking amount, actually. The guy at the library table nearly convinced me to join the romance book club. And there’s a woman who custom-crochets tank tops. I need one ineverycolor?—”
As Milo’s talking, I’m scanning the crowd, mostly looking for an excuse to extract Ames from the conversation.Which is why I notice when Merritt’s gaze drifts too, and his attention gets caught.
Curious, I follow his gaze and nearly laugh out loud.
He’s watching Holden, who seems to be having a serious discussion with Deputy Sharin as they walk past Flora Buchanan’s pet adoption tent, where she’s got a bunch of brightly colored birds in cages who need good homes.
Holden’s still wearing his sling as he recovers from his bullet wound—a look Ames claims he pulled offwaybetter than his brother—but he’s got his hair slicked down, and he’s wearing his sheriff’s uniform, probably so he can take a shift at the Emergency Services booth. Whatever the deputy’s telling Holden has him scowling down at her while waving his good arm in annoyance.
And then all of a sudden, Holden lifts his head, like he can sense eyes on him.
His gaze locks with Merritt’s.
His whole face goes completely blank.
And he walks directly into the front pole of Flora’s tent.
The pole clatters to the ground, and Holden stumbles but manages to right himself. He catches the top edge of the tent before any damage is done, but every one of Flora’s birds immediately begins squawking, chirping, flapping, and cawing like some kind of avian Armageddon has been unleashed.
A dozen people turn to see what the problem is, and I can see Holden’s red face from here.
“Oh my word!” Vivian shoves her balsa wood birdhouse at Merritt, who fumbles it slightly before catching it, and rushes over to calm the commotion.
“That’s the sheriff?” Merritt asks quietly, cheeks flushed pink.
Milo laughs. “That’s him, alright.”
