Page 8 of Sizzle
I can tell, though, that his mind is elsewhere. Presumably, on the wife he’s obsessed with and my baby niece, whom he can’t stop gushing over.
“How is Rebecca?” I smile, and it’s only fair that my niece is one of the only people who can get me to do so.
Patrick grins a megawatt grin. “Adorable. Beautiful. So smart for a three-week-old. But also a mess every time she cries or poops. How the hell can a thing that tiny make poops that big? And the stench, my God.”
My brother cringes but looks happy to do so. I don’t get it, honestly, so I just stay silent as I sip my beer.
“You want one?” I gesture to my almost empty glass.
He waves me off. “Nah, I’m just going to get a soda or something. It feels wrong to drink when Cass can’t as she’s still breastfeeding.”
That shouldn’t tick me off, that he’s being so respectful of his wife, but it does. Probably because I have no one to do that for.
“Got it. Dude, you don’t have to be here,” I tell him earnestly, because I feel like he wants to be let off the hook.
Patrick winces. “This is our tradition, though. Brother drinks, this is what we do.”
“That was before you had a whole-ass kid and a wife at home who needs help with a screaming newborn. I get it, Patty, I do. Go home. And next time, if it’s too much, tell me instead of showing up with your head in the clouds.”
I may not say it out loud much, but I care very deeply for my family and am always looking out for them.
“You’re not pissed?” He half-rises, like he wants to listen to me and bolt but thinks I’ll get mad.
I clap him on the shoulder. “No. Not at all. Go home. I’ll be over to see Rebecca sometime this week, okay? Tell Cass hi for me.”
He gives me a grin like he’s heading back to the place he really wants to be, then speed walks for the doors.
Glancing around, I survey the crowd at the Laura. It’s made up of a lot of familiar faces, but none who I want to strike up a conversation with. I may live in my hometown as an adult, but I rarely socialize with people outside my family circle.
The bartender just sets down my second beer when someone slides onto the bar stool next to mine.
“Funny seeing you here, stranger.”
Valerie Notson, a former high school flame, and more recent hookup, gives me a Cheshire cat grin. Internally, I groan because I wanted to drink in peace and not be subjected to her very obvious attempts to turn us into something more.
“Valerie, hi.” I don’t ask her how she is or if I can buy her a drink because, well, I don’t want to.
“You drinking alone tonight? I can fix that?” Her hand hovers close to mine on the bar top.
I down half my beer in sudsy, carbonated gulps so that I don’t have to answer. Or maybe so I can get out of here faster.
Making the mistake of letting her sleep over more than once at my place was a grave error. She’s a beautiful woman, has a decent job, and comes from a nice family like mine who has lived in Hope Crest for generations. She’s outgoing, involved in the community, and on paper, probably looks like a woman I should end up with in this little river valley town.
Except I just don’t like her that much. She doesn’t seem to understand my personality, undresses me with her eyes any chance she gets, and it’s always felt to me like she wants my last name more than me for me.
“Actually, I was just heading out.” I place my empty glass down, throw a ten-dollar bill on the bar, and turn to leave.
“Wait!” Valerie’s voice notches up with desperation. “Want some company to walk you home?”
Turning around, I catch the innuendo in her expression and blanch. I should take her up on this. I should go home with her or try to fuck someone else to get out of this funk.
Except this funk has lasted twelve years, so it can’t really be a funk. No, I’m stuck on a woman who would rather run in the other direction than talk to me, and yet I can’t take this very willing one back to my bed because of it.
“Have a good night, Valerie.” I don’t mean it to sound rude or dismissive, but I think it comes off that way because her face sinks.
She isn’t a bad person; in reality, Valerie will make some man very happy someday. It just won’t be me, and I wish she’d take the hint. I’m not looking for that with her or any other woman I’ve bedded in this town. I know there are rumors about me, about the line I deliver before they come back to my bed; one night only, and no feelings are involved. Unfortunately, I was stupid enough to repeat things with Valerie once or twice, and she probably got the idea she was the exception.
As I walk down Newton Street, I ruminate on my fucking idiocy. Why can’t I move on, try to fall for someone else, and start to live the life I see my siblings have and I know I want?