“I’m trying to work on my motorcycle and I stripped a bolt. It pissed me off. Yes, I went to a grief counseling session. It was a total bust. Except for meeting another escapee.”
Lawson wiped his hands on one of his garage towels, then picked up his phone and carried it out of the garage and into his house. He sighed with relief as he was hit with air conditioning.
“You can’t just go one time and call it a day. Dammit, Law, you didn’t even go to Maman’s sixty-fifth birthday party.”
“It was in Belgium and I was in Yemen so just how in the hell was I supposed to manage that?” Law set down his phone and put it on speaker so he could rifle through his fridge. Nothing, absolutely nothing. When was the last time he’d gone to the store? Shit, he had to settle on a protein drink, even though the beer was calling his name.
“She was disappointed.”
“Ash, I already told her I’d be there to celebrate Thanksgiving. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He took a chug of the drink straight out of the bottle and winced. Geez, just how old was this? He checked the expiration date. Ew.
He heard his brother sigh. “I’m worried about you,” he said quietly.
“I understand that. I was worried about you, too, until Eden came along. She’s good for you.”
Even before his brother spoke, he could practically hear his smile through the phone.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Law poured the rest of the drink down the sink. “I don’t know either, but I also think she got lucky, too.”
“Quit being a sap. See why I worry?”
Law laughed. He couldn’t help being a sap when it came to Eden and Asher—his brother had knocked it out of the park the day he’d rescued that woman.
“Law,” Asher growled.
Law grabbed a beer—that he knew, wasn’t expired—out of the fridge, then he picked up his phone. “Seriously, you need to back off now. I’m doing better. Making the decision to go to that group session was a big deal. It meant I knew that I was not in the best headspace. Okay?”
“So, you went to some kind of group, and not a psychologist?”
Law set down the beer next to the couch and sat down. He took the phone off speaker so he could enunciate clearly. “Asher, I said back off. I am dealing with this. I just fucking told you that I acknowledged that this has me twisted up. I told you that I’m trying to get my head right. The last thing I need is you crawling up my ass. Are we clear?”
Ash didn’t say anything, but two could play that game. Law put down his phone and took off the cap and took a swig. Finally, he heard Ash talk.
“I hear you.”
“Can I have that in writing? Maybe notarized?”
“You’re an asshole, you know that Lawson?”
“I’m hanging up now, big brother.”
Jill looked at her phone for the eighty-third time, willing it to ring. How pathetic. Even more pathetic was the batch of chocolate chip cookies she’d made. You only made cookies if you were really into a guy. The last time she’d made them was when she had dated Carl, who ended up being a total loser. A total loser.
The timer dinged and she looked in the oven. Golden brown, as they should be. She pulled them out and placed them on the stovetop.
“You have two choices. You eat five thousand calories’ worth of cookies or call the hottest, nicest guy you’ve met in forever and see if he can be wooed by cookies.”
Jill threw off the oven mitts and picked up a cookie that was far too hot and took a bite.
“Hot. Hot. Hot.” She waved her hand in front of her mouth to cool it down but continued to chew on the molten chocolatey goodness. She looked at her phone resting on the kitchen island. Still no message or missed call. She was going to have to pull up her big-girl panties and call him.
She finished the rest of the cookie and considered her game plan. It was Sunday. What time was football? Did he watch football? Would she be interrupting something? Maybe he was working.
“Darn it, quit with the doubts. You’re just making a phone call!” She pushed back the loose hair from her forehead and felt something sticky. Oh, for goodness sake. She looked at her fingers. Yep, chocolate was in her hair.
“Good going, Keiler.”
After a half-hour, she was freshly showered and her hair was clean and shiny, no chocolate in sight. And, she didn’t look half-bad in her skinny jeans and flowered tank top. A little bit of mascara and lip gloss and she was ready. She went to the kitchen and piled the cookies onto a plate, stacked the extras in a Tupperware container, and made a grab for her phone. She saw the screen, then promptly dropped it in the sink. It barely missed the mixing bowl filled with water to soak.
Thank God!
She grinned. Lawson had called. She pressed play on her voicemail.
Jill, this is Law Thorne, I wanted to see if you would be available to go out to dinner anytime this coming week, either weekday or weekend, my schedule is pretty free. I know this goes against the macho code, letting it all hang out this way, but I really would like to see you again.
Jill gripped the phone tightly so she didn’t drop it again. She would, too, she was so darned excited. It hadn’t been her imagination; his
