“Being married has made Nash more in touch with his feelings,” Wade pipes up as he dips a fry in ketchup.
I chuckle and swallow my bite.
“Well, when I’m looking for advice, I’ll be sure to call the four of you first.” I look to Nash. “But yeah, man. I’m feeling pretty burnt out.”
“Sure it has nothing to do with the way you were looking at a certain redhead at my wedding?” Cole grins as he sips his beer.
I shake my head.
“Cassie said she thought someone was going at it in the bathroom and, funny enough, you and Liv were the only ones there before us.” Haden grins. Fuckin’ smug prick.
I say nothing.
“I had a friend like that once.” Cole shakes his head and smiles wider. “Friends like that? They fucking sneak up on ya.”
“Good to know,” I grit out. I’m not about to explain anything to these nosey fuckers.
“As long as whoever was in that bathroom wasn’t anyone’s sister, I’m good. I don’t know if I can take any more of that drama,” Wade adds before he stands and pats his brother onthe shoulder. “Let’s go. Cornhole time.”
“As much as I’d love to keep yapping about Asher’s friend he doesn’t seem to want to talk about”—Cole stands and interlocks his hands, stretching them out in front of him—“time to start tossing bags and taking names.”
“That comment made me uncomfortable.” Haden chuckles. “I thought it was a-maiz-ing,” Nash says with a smirk. “Fucking morons,” Wade huffs as he heads to the center of the grass with his beer. “No wonder you’re looking for new friends.”
“You off on the Fourth?” Nash asks as he sips his beer once we’re the only ones left at the table.
“Off but on call.”
“You should come over. We’re doing a big barbeque at the ranch. Bring the Black brothers too, we’ll play some footy.”
I should say no. I know Olivia will be there, and the best thing for both of us is if I just stay away from her. But I’m a fucking sucker for punishment so instead I nod in agreement, understanding that, when it comes to this woman, I always seem to actbeforeI think.
CHAPTER 16
Olivia
JULY
“I’m gonna head over to your house tomorrow. I bought a steamer online that will give the walls a really good wash.” I look up at my dad over our weekly pancakes at the Sage and Salt. It’s a running joke that he has an online shopping addiction. Little gadgets show up at my parents’ house every day—things for the yard, tools, T-shirts. More often than not, he’ll start a conversation with “Look what I got online …”
“Red Rock cleaned already.” I narrow my eyes at him. I’m on to him.
He shrugs. His skin is tanned from being outside so much, and he’s in summer mode in his blue golf shirt, shorts, and flipflops.
“Can’t hurt to make sure it’s perfect before they start rebuilding. How long did they say before it’s done?”
“Another few months at least.” Pushing that thought from my head and trying to forget I can’t be in my own home, I stuff a bite of strawberry and whipped cream into my mouth. Every time I get down about being displaced, I try instead to picturehow I’ll redecorate. I have an entire Pinterest page saved and catalogued with rustic and modern country designs from the last six weeks, and that helps lift my spirits. “So what does Mom want you to do for her at the house?”
He grins and shakes his head. “Clean and reorganize the kitchen. Cut the hedge.”
“It’s the Fourth of July weekend. She won’t give you a break?” I smile as I place my fork down and take a sip of orange juice. The moment it hits my lips, a sour feeling twinges in my jaw and I gag. I cover my mouth, my eyes wide as my dad looks up at me.
“Y’okay?”
I nod, my hand still clamped over my mouth.
“I think maybe the OJ is bad.” I crumple my face and push it away.
My dad reaches over to try it. “Tastes fine to me.”
