“What?” he slurs, rubbing his ribs halfheartedly, clearly too drunk to feel any pain. “Kate won’t judge. She loves this shit. It’s all book material for her.”
“Your sister is right there,” I grind out into his ear as we step outside onto the sidewalk. “Just shut up, man. I’m serious.”
“Meg doesn’t care either. Meg is going to marry a quarterback who plays for the Broncos, and then we can get tickets to all the games we want!” Miles throws his hands up into a touchdown formation, and I begin to wonder how we ever became friends. “I only met him once, and I think he could be douchey, but I’m trying to stop being overprotective of my baby sister because apparently I’m ‘ruining her life.’” Miles imitates Maggie’s voice at the end, and I have to bite back a laugh because it’s so uncanny, it’s freaking me out.
“Okay, big guy…let’s get you in the car,” Kate says, tucking herself under Miles’s giant arm to take over. She ushers him to the curb while I peer over at Maggie through the corner of my eye. Kate grabs the keys out of Miles’s pocket and winks at him while opening his truck door. “I’m driving.”
He bops her on the nose. “Yes, you are, my future wifey.”
“Come again?” Kate asks, quirking a curious brow.
“I called you my future wifey because—” Miles’s next words have me clumsily barreling over to step between them. If my best friend proposes to his girlfriend while drunk, he will never forgive himself.
“He calls people who take care of him when he’s drunk wifey. It’s a thing he does.” My words are slurred, but they seem really solid. “He’s called me wifey more times than I can count.” I laugh a little too hard and turn on my heel to shove Miles into the truck with a severe look before he says something even stupider. “In you go, hubby,” I add through clenched teeth.
“Aww, thanks, wifey.” Miles giggles, then reaches out and slowly drags all five of his fingertips from my forehead to my chin. It’s a weird, affectionate embrace that I’m embarrassed to admit felt really nice.
I shake my head at that and shut the door before turning back to face Kate and Maggie. “He doesn’t usually do that face pet thing.” I laugh awkwardly, trying to ignore the puzzled look on both of their faces. I pull my phone up to my face. “I’m just going to call an Uber.”
“Megan’s car is here,” Kate states, placing her hand over my phone to stop me. “She’s sober, so I’m sure she can take you. You don’t mind, do you, Meg?”
Maggie looks at Kate with wide, nervous eyes. “Um…sure?”
“Perfect,” Kate exclaims with a clap of her hands. “I feel like I need to get Miles to bed before he ends up proposing to Sam.” Kate reaches out to give me a hug. “Happy Birthday, Sam. We’ll have you out to the house for dinner soon, okay?” She turns to Maggie. “See you at home in a bit!”
“See ya!” Maggie calls back with a weak wave.
Seconds later, I’m left on the curb of Pearl Street Pub with my best friend’s little sister…who I most definitely want to fuck.
A Reel Expert Can Tackle Anything
Sam and I silently make our way over to the lot behind the bar where I parked my car. As I walk beside him, my mind races with everything that’s happened in the past week. I cannot believe the same Sam I’ve been fishing with—the same Sam I basically attacked with my tongue—is my brother’s best friend! I went through all of high school and never looked twice at one of his buddies. I drive eight hours to Boulder and randomly stumble upon one? How in the heck?
What’s worse, Sam now knows I’m lying about still being in a relationship with Sterling, which is embarrassing on so many levels. But whatever, it is what it is. Now I need to make damn sure Sam doesn’t tell Miles about that or my plan to transform myself to win back my ex. If Miles knows what lengths I’m going to for this guy, that tiny bit of freedom he’s given me will be ripped away, and he’ll do that annoying big brother overprotective thing all over again. And I’m certain I can fix this on my own.
I glance over my shoulder and lock eyes with Sam, who quickly looks away. He’s been doing that all night, and I hate the way it makes my tummy flip. This would all be a lot easier if he wasn’t so attractive. That reddish beard with a faint smattering of freckles over his nose all bundled up in that cozy plaid shirt make him definitely majorly cute. He looks like the kind of guy you want to lie on a couch with and dry hump during a movie.
Dry hump? Oh my heck, Maggie…get a grip!
I click the key fob to my little white Malibu and jump into the car quickly. Sam folds himself into the passenger seat, and his knees instantly hit the dash. Good Lord, he’s big. I reach over to pull the lever under his seat so his chair will slide back, but at the same time, he spreads his legs farther to do it himself, and somehow…because apparently, the world decides I can still be more pathetic…my hand ends up at the apex of his groin.
Oh crap, I’m touching his dick! I’m totally touching his dick, and I think it just moved!
“Whoa there,” he mumbles into my hair, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. “If you wanted to play Bop It, you should have just said so.”
“Oh my god,” I exclaim, snatching my hand back and squeaking out a weird noise from deep inside my throat. “That was an accident!”
Fumbling with the key, I pray like heck I don’t look over and see Sam’s apparently very impressive dick growing inside his snug jeans.
He chuckles, running his hands down his jeans-clad thighs, and says, “No worries, I’m not a fan of the twisting and the bopping anyway. I’m a simple ‘pull it’ guy all the way.”
I groan loudly, in no way amused by this mortifying situation. I just need to drive and focus on something other than Sam in those jeans. What is it with those jeans anyhow? They are a night and day difference from the work jeans he had on at Marv’s Bait and Tackle. These are like…man jeans. Is that a thing? If not, it should be because these are what men wear, not boys. They are faded and distressed in all the right places and snug but not like skinny jeans snug. And they’re not so long that you can’t see his sleek brown ankle boots, proving that Sam actually has some sexy style going on under all that dry-humpable manliness.
Not that I’m checking him out.
I’m not. I’m totally not.
I just appreciate his taste because Sterling always wore baggy jeans. Ones that wrinkled over his shoes and looked sloppy. That’s the only reason I noticed Sam’s appearance tonight. He dresses like a grown-up, and I appreciate that. End of story!
As I pull out onto the road, I can feel Sam’s eyes pinpointed on me as his deep voice echoes in my car. “Don’t you need directions?”
I flinch like an idiot because where the hell was I driving to just now? “Yes, directions would be good.”
He instructs me through a couple of turns until we’re headed toward the west side of town. After a few minutes of silence, he asks, “So tell me this, if Miles thinks you just arrived in town today, where have you been staying since the last time we went ice fishing?”
I exhale heavily, wishing I could get out of answering this question, but I know if anyone deserves the truth, it’s Sam. “I was staying at the Briar Rose Bed and Breakfast outside of town.”
“Why?” he asks, and I can hear the judgment in his tone already.
“Because I was supposed to spend the week at my boyfriend’s in North Carolina, and no one knows we broke up, so I needed a place to hide out essentially.”
“A guy who uses the word ‘basic’ doesn’t use social media and update his relationship status on Facebook?”
“I begged him not to,” I reply with a groan. “I told him I was going to wait to tell my parents until sometime after the New Year because I didn’t want to ruin their holiday.”
“And he agreed?”
“Yes.”
He harrumphs.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m trying to figure out why he had no problem ruining your holiday.” His eyes are hooded as he looks at me expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer.