5. Milo
5
MILO
“I got there two songs too late…” Nash attempts to croon, to no one in particular, leaning against Willa’s barstool. Famously unable to carry a tune in a bucket, it’s never stopped him from trying, this moment no exception.
My sister rolls her eyes, sipping her beer as she leans in closer to her best friend, Kenzie, trying to hear her over the obnoxiousness surrounding them.
“It’s ‘Tucson Too Late,’ buddy,” Dustin corrects him. “The song is ‘Tucson Too Late,’ not two songs.”
“Whatever, I’m freestyling. And my version is better!”
I sputter out a laugh, shaking my head as I slide a Sobbin’ Shandy toward Sylvie, who is sitting on the other side of Kenzie. My sister and her friends are gathered at their normal spot at the far corner, each of the four girls perched on a stool, their significant other standing behind them.
Having them all here, in their usual spot, gives the night a sense of normalcy that I didn’t realize I needed. The group looks different now than it did when they formed their little tribe as kids—all of them paired off now, Dustin a country star, Willa a former beauty queen, the twins actual serious business owners and not just troublemakers to name a new changes—but deep down, they’re still the same as they’ve always been.
“It’s really not,” Willa quips, her sass still intact. Especially with her boyfriend.
“No one asked you.”
I laugh again, holding out my fist to Nash. He taps it with his, nodding in solidarity. Nash Keller is the only man on earth strong—and crazy—enough to take on my sister. Her perfect match, without question, I support that he’s willing to keep her in check like this.
“Milo!”
“He’s right, Wills—no one asked you,” I return.
“Go away.”
I hold up my hands in surrender, giving her a wink so she knows that she may have won the battle, but not the war. Isn’t that what older brothers are for?
Turning my attention back to the rest of Pour Decisions, I do a quick inventory of what’s going on. And I like what I see. We are full. Damn, that’s a good feeling.
It also tells me that we’re doing the right thing by adding the extra space outside. It wasn’t an easy decision. Brandt and I wrestled whether or not to do it—and how—for the last couple of years. Bronwyn’s idea of bringing in food trucks for Drafts and Dig In finally sold us on it. Looking at the bar now, honestly I don’t know why it took us this long.
“Can I get a Sob Story, please?” Reverend Terry asks.
I nod, mindlessly reaching for the tap. Only my hand lands on something other than the cool, hard wood of the beer tap. Brenna’s hand.
My pulse spikes, my skin heating, as the air around us sizzles. Time stops for a second, my lungs trying to catch up as I realize that I’m holding her hand. I need to let go.
Shit …
“Sorry, I…”
“Oops, I didn’t mean…”
Brenna giggles, both of us letting go at the same time. We make eye contact for the briefest of seconds—the first time since I ran out of her room the other day—looking away almost instantly.
Yeah, this isn’t awkward at all.
“You get it,” I tell her, taking a step back.
I watch out of the corner of my eye, trying to be as unobvious as possible, which probably makes me more so. Might as well have a sign over my head that says creeper. Because every time I look at her, all I can see is her splayed out on that bed, her gorgeous body on display, making those sounds that have an unspeakable effect on my dick. Fuck, I’m hard again just thinking about it. You’d think I was a teenager all over again for this inability to control my thoughts.
If I don’t find a way to distract myself—and soon—this is going to be a really long summer.
“Here you go, Reverend,” Brenna says, a bright smile on her face.
Way to go Milo, thinking about her naked in front of the Reverend. Pretty sure that’s a one-way ticket to hell…
“Good to see you home, Miss Brenna,” Reverend Terry comments. “Hard to believe you’re so grown up. Gosh, I remember when you were born. And your dedication. You know, this guy…”
I perk up, somehow knowing that I’m the this guy he’s referring to.
Reverend Terry waggles a finger in my direction. Bingo. “He was the only one who could get you to stop crying. You were screamin’ that little head of yours off, and no matter what anyone did, you wouldn’t stop. ’Til Milo picked you up and bam! It was like he had the magic touch. ”
I’d like to have the magic touch with her now too…no! Stop…stop…
I need something to distract me. Something to take my mind off me and Brenna and magic touches and…well, anything. Really, anything else at this point.
“Can’t say I remember that one,” Brenna laughs.
My dick surges, and I have to flex my hands to stop myself from reaching for her. Fuck, I’m in trouble.
“Well, I best get. It was good to see you.”
“You too, Reverend.”
I nod, turning my focus to the dirty pint glasses in the sink. Dish duty isn’t necessarily my favorite, but it’s going to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied, and frankly, at this point, that’s what I need more than anything.
“So, Brenna,” Ben says. “How’s it going?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake…
Nope, pint glasses. That’s the focus. The pint glasses. Because those need cleaning. If we’re this busy, and there is this big of a stack, then we’re going to need more soon. Really, Ben should have been on top of this. Why he’s not…well, good question. I make a mental note to bring that up later. Because it’s possible there’s a reason. He might have been out on the floor delivering drinks or helping someone. Or if there was a pizza delivery or something.
Something other than flirting, I hope.
“Fine,” Brenna answers. Her tone is bored, which excites me more than I should admit to.
“It’s just that I was thinking that I’m home for the summer and you’re home for the summer and?—”
“I’m not home for the summer, Ben. I graduated from pharmacy school,” she corrects him.
I bite my lip to stop from laughing. I know where this is going, and it’s not going to end well for Ben. Poor kid. He’s a nice guy. Good-looking even. And I have no doubt he does well with the girls over in Statesboro. But he’s trying to bat way outside his league here.
“Milo!”
I look up, surprised by the cheery blonde face staring back at me. Pleasantly surprised though, because it’s one that I think will also enjoy what we’re about to witness. Or what I think we’re about to witness. Hope we are.
She wouldn’t say yes to going out with Ben, would she?
No. No. I tamp down the single flare of jealousy and focus on Brenna’s best friend.
“MaryEllen Quinn. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
“It’s Davenport now—don’t you know anything?”
She holds up her left hand, showing off a wedding ring. I did know that, now that she says it. I remember Brenna saying something about being in the wedding.
“Congratulations. Where is the lucky man?”
“An undisclosed location.”
I blink, not sure if she’s joking or serious. Her face does nothing to help me along either, so I move on.
“What can I get you?”
She orders a Party Mode, and I slide it to her, as Brenna finishes shaking Ben off. Turning back to dish duty, I give Brenna and Mell their space, needing my own distance. If I almost got jealous of a guy who is young enough to be my kid for flirting with my best friend’s little sister, then distance is only the start.
“Hey Milo.” Bronwyn flags me down.
I reach into the minifridge below the bar and pull out a can of Diet Coke that I keep in there just for her. As a taphouse for Southern Brothers Brewing, as a rule, we only serve four drinks—Party Mode, Sob Story, Silver Lining Sour, and the Sobbin’ Shandy, which is Sob Story mixed with lemonade. Oh, and water. We are not a full bar. But when our marketing maven joined the Hayes team last summer, and we learned that she doesn’t drink but does have a rather strong Diet Coke addiction, I started keeping a secret stash for her under the counter. Placing it in front of her, I lean down, giving her my best smirk, knowing that she wants more than just another drink.
“Oh, thanks. But that’s not what I was going to ask.”
“I am aware. I speak troublemaker.”
She beams, not bothering to deny it. “I know you’re working on it, but the sooner you can have the name of the new beer to me, the better. That way I can get all art and everything done and?—”
“I know.”
“And I know you know, but…Rhythm and Brews will be here sooner than you think and?—”
“I know.”
“And I know you know, but…”
“Bronwyn. I know .”
She stops, pursing her lips. “Okay. Sooner rather than later, please.”
I nod. Like this wasn’t already weighing on me enough. I know this beer needs a name. But it can’t just be any old name either.
“Is that Nick Scarborough?” Willa asks.
I whip around, my eyes immediately landing on the offender. And I do mean offender.
Because yes, that is Nick Scarborough.
And he’s flirting with Brenna.
Turning back toward my sister, I put the scene behind me. Literally. I don’t want to see it. Besides, it’s none of my business. Who Brenna flirts with doesn’t matter to me. She should be out there flirting. Having her hot-girl summer or whatever she said they were calling it. Living it up with guys her age. Like Nick Scarborough .
“Isn’t he kind of a player?” Sylvie asks. “Or am I thinking of his brother?”
“They both are,” Kenzie says. “Ryan I think is a little more obvious about it, but Nick isn’t exactly Mr. Monogamous.”
I seethe. And this time, I reason that it’s allowed. Because this is how a big brother would act. This is me doing my job. I said I would look out for her. The fact that I want to rip off the hand that just touched her is because I would want to do that same thing if that were Willa. In fact, when Nash asked permission to take Willa to prom, I threatened to do just that.
No more justification needed.
“What is your problem?” Willa asks, smacking my arm.
I whip around to look at her. “Me? What? Nothing.”
She raises an eyebrow in disbelief, which is more than fair because I don’t believe me either.
“It’s nothing.”
I turn on my heel, headed toward the other end of the bar. Toward the escape. Suddenly, what is usually a wide open area is feeling very cramped. And very hot. I need some fresh air. Some space where I can get my head on straight.
Some space where I don’t look up and see…
Brenna.
“Hi.”
Her voice is cute and sweet and…filled with panic. I swallow hard, trying not to let my mind rush to all sorts of no good. Whatever this guy did, I’ll kill him.
“What happened?”
“Oh, I just…” she stumbles, starting to blush. Damn it, is she cute like this. “Having some trouble with the tap.”
I look down, noticing the keg she’s straddling. How I missed that, well, shows you exactly where my head is. Brenna is a sister. A little sister. And I need to remember that. Nothing more .
“Right, you just gotta push down so it connects and…” I press the tap in hard, forcing the connection. Only, I press too hard, catching the lip just right, the compression of the keg snapping. Beer shoots out from the hole, spraying both Brenna and me.
Fuck…
I run my forearm across my face, cursing myself. Occupational hazard—every bartender or brewmaster out there has exploded a keg a time or two, but it’s been awhile since I’ve done it. Not the end of the world, since the keg is still good—more an annoyance than anything else, since you have to clean up the spilled beer and yourself.
“Damn it,” I mutter, grabbing a bar rag. “That wasn’t what I meant to do.”
“You don’t say.”
I start to retort, then I see her. Brenna is soaking wet. Shit. I panic, lurching forward with the towel, and start wiping her down. As if she were a child and somehow incapable of doing this herself. Patting down her face and neck, I continue to move, still not fully thinking this through, when it hits me. But by then it’s too late. My hands are on her boobs.
And now I’m a walking sexual harassment claim waiting to happen. Tonight I’m extra thankful none of my brothers decided to show up. Please, dear Lord, don’t let Willa have seen this.
“I’ll be back in cold storage if you need me,” I say, with all the confidence of a twelve-year-old trying to hide his first public boner.
Brenna simply nods wordlessly, shuffling to the side to let me past. I don’t wait, beelining it, head down so that I don’t do anything else I might regret.
Like kiss her.