Page 14 of Worth the Fight

My older brother chuckles as he takes a sip of his beer before rising to help. “He isn’t answering, Gray. You know what that means.”

Grayson chuckles as I swing the hammer, and I know what’s coming next. “He likes her.”

Yep. Had that one right.

“I do not like her.” I take my frustration with them out on the nail.

“So she isn’t hot?” Grant asks, pushing my buttons when they’re already pressed after a few nights of restless sleep.

“That’s not what I said.”

“So . . . are you getting any yet?” he eggs on.

“Asks the man who probably isn’t getting any since he tied on the old ball and chain.” I chuckle and step back to grab the next piece of wood Grayson has cut for me on the table saw.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Grant smirks a cat-ate-the-canary grin as if he’s remembering something I don’t want to imagine him remembering. “It’s only gotten better since the wedding, so no complaints here.”

“Dude, she’s pregnant,” I add.

“So? She’s still hot and everything still works the same. Duh.”

“He’s still punch-drunk on love.” Grayson rolls his eyes and sticks a finger down his throat like he used to do when we were little, and I laugh. “Seriously . . . how is she?”

I glance to Dylan’s bedroom window and think of the string of music that was coming from behind her closed door earlier. The guitar playing the same chords over and over, her muted voice barely making its way through the cracks. The oddly comforting rhythm of start, stop, repeat.

“She keeps to herself mostly,” I say as I flip the top of a fresh beer off and let the taste cool me off.

“She’s a songwriter?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shake of my head, still trying to wrap my head around her lyrics. “For Jett Kroger.”

“No shit,” Grayson says, but I don’t elaborate on their situation. “So?” He draws the word out.

“No. God. No.” I say the words a little too quickly as if I’m trying to convince myself that’s how I feel.

“She’s that bad?” Grant asks as he looks toward the house.

I picture her standing with her hands holding her robe closed and that shy smile on her face. The woman has an amazing body but is so damn afraid to own it. Such a contrast from the others I’ve dated who use it to their every advantage.

It’s refreshing. And kind of a turn-on since I finally got a peek of just how hot those curves are.

“No. Not at all. She’s pretty. Sexy more than pretty. She’s just quiet and reserved. Not my type at all.”

“As opposed to open and willing?” Grayson asks then chokes on his own laughter.

“Fuck off. This coming from the serial dater.”

“Like you’re one to talk. I heard Mallory stopped by your place on her way through town,” Grant says and smirks.

“Jesus Christ. Do you guys have cameras watching me?” I flip my brothers off and shake my head but know I’ll talk anyway. “Yeah. You know Mal⁠—”

“A guaranteed good time so long as that time only lasts less than twenty-four hours.”

“Those are her terms, not mine.” Glitter-dress girl. I hear Dylan say the words and smile.

“Must be tough having someone want no strings, no rings, and just your ding,” Grayson says as we all start laughing.

“What are you?” Grant asks throwing his bottle cap at him. “Twelve?”