Chapter 4
Damon
Dad squirted lighter fluid on the charcoal grill, sending the flames shooting sky-high.
“Craig!” my mother protested. “You’re going to get it too hot. Then everything will be burnt to a crisp on the outside.”
Dad waved her off with his tongs. “It’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s what you said the last time.” She turned to me. “Damon, will you rein him in, please?”
Mom went through the patio doors into the kitchen, where she was prepping all the vegetables she’d try to foist upon us later.
“Listen to the woman,” I called from the Adirondack chair I’d claimed under the shade of the covered patio. “I like my steak rare, not charbroiled.”
“You think you’re getting steak?” He chortled. “That’s too rich for my blood. All my money is going into that danged bathroom remodel your mom wants so darn much. Like we need a big ole tub.”
“It’s zero-entry, Dad,” my sister, Wendy, said as she came out the door with a beer in her hand. Her husband, Neil, followed. “And you’re going to need it when you get that hip replacement surgery.”
Dad muttered something about not needing any dang surgery.
He was fit as a fiddle. We all ignored his protests because it’d taken us six long months of watching him suffer before we’d managed to persuade him to go to the doctor and schedule the surgery.
We weren’t about to indulge his cold feet now.
I made grabby hands at Wendy. “Give me your beer. I’m dying out here.”
Summer in Nebraska was a bitch, and I was pouring sweat. The heat of the blazing hot grill wasn’t helping. Mom kept asking Dad to buy a propane-operated one, but he liked playing with fire too much.
Or maybe he just worried he’d lose his ol’ country boy card. My folks had a big farmhouse outside town, which they’d slowly been remodeling over the years—with my help more often than not—and my dad loved to boast about how many acres stood between them and any neighbors.
I gazed out at the summer-browned grass, looking more like hay this time of year, the battered wooden fence, and the ruts carved into the earth that were as close as we got to a driveway. It was picturesque enough for a postcard depicting country living.
My sister lifted her beer and took a big drink. “Ah, so cool and refreshing.”
“So cruel,” I added. “I’m thirsty.”
“Get your own beer, fool.”
“I’ve been slaving away in hot construction all day. Cut me a break.”
She grinned, and every ounce of sibling mischief was obvious in her expression. “Never.”
Neil handed me his beer. “Here, man. I’ll grab another.”
“At least your husband loves me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t have him.”
I scoffed. “You’re just jealous of our bromance because it’s so magical.”
She didn’t dignify that with a response, which was probably fair. Instead, she rejoined Mom in the kitchen. Probably for the air-conditioning. My sister was no fool.
I took a big gulp of beer and went back to the web form pulled up on my phone, using two thumbs to type in answers. It was a little clunky, but I didn’t want to go deal with the paperweight my parents considered a home computer, so I made do.
Neil took a seat beside me, craning his neck. “Matchmaking Mamas? Are you—”
“Shhh!”
“Sorry.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t take you for the blind date type. I thought you were seeing that redhead, Anne?”
“Didn’t work out,” I muttered.
We’d had a good first date, a mediocre second one, and a disastrous third.
That was about the time I stopped playing the gentleman and let my true colors fly.
Most women didn’t dig it. The few who did wanted me for my dick more than my personality.
Those relationships were fun for a while, but they were generally a few good fucks to nowhere.
“So your dream date is drinks at The Stag Pub?” Neil sounded skeptical. “I kind of thought you’d be more of a picnic by the river sorta guy. Maybe some stargazing from the back of your pickup truck.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Been thinking about my dating preferences?”
He laughed. “Wendy talks about it enough. She thinks if you’d just be real with people—”
“Real? I’m real.”
He held up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying, she thinks you only show people what you want them to see. You’re not open and vulnerable and…” He trailed off with a grimace. “I sound like a damn romance novel, don’t I?”
I chuckled. “Little bit, but don’t worry about me. I’m not signing up for matchmaking. I do just fine.”
“Oh? Then what…”
“It’s for my neighbor.” I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. “He’s got a little payback coming.”
“No way!” Neil’s eyes widened, and he leaned in to watch as I input a few more details for Maverick’s interests, snickering as I typed out that he loved trucks, especially big-ass macho trucks, car shows, and sporting events.
It wasn’t like Maverick would accept any matches. Once he realized what I’d done, he’d be totally furious and I’d get to gloat over my superior pranking. My phone flashed with an incoming call from an unknown number. I sent it to voicemail, grinding my teeth.
My prank was way better than advertising a man’s truck for sale. That was just wrong.
Wendy sauntered back over. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
She stared down her husband. “What are you really doing?”
“Damon is pranking Maverick again,” Neil said, caving like a house of cards.
“Dude!”
“You might wanna sabotage Mav’s love life, but I’m not going down with him.”
Wendy shook her head. “I don’t get this weird fixation you have on him.”
“It’s not a fixation,” I said tightly. “He took out an ad that my truck was for sale. I’ve been getting calls all day. This is just payback.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. And what did you do before that?”
“Uh, well…” I shrugged, squirming under her stare. “Who can remember, really? He started it.”
“You sound like a freaking toddler.”
I huffed and crossed my arms. “He did.”
She shook her head. “I should tell Mom.”
All my childhood panic reared its head. “No, don’t! You know I can’t take it when Mom’s disappointed in me.”
“I know,” Wendy said, a smug smile playing at her lips. “You always play the sweet boy for them. If they only knew…”
“Wendyyyyy!”
She cackled. “Fine, but you’re coming over and helping Neil stain the deck next weekend.”
“Fine. Done.”
Not like I wouldn’t have done that, anyway. Neil always paid me in free pizza and beer.
She wagged a finger at me. “Start behaving, though, or I’ll have to tattle. It’s my job to make sure my little brother isn’t a bully.”
“I’m not a bully,” I said, a little more sulk in my tone than I liked.
She smirked. “Only because Maverick knows how to fight back. He really advertised your truck for sale?”
“For way too little money, and every gullible asshole out there is calling about it.”
She grinned. “That’s too good.”
Leave it to my sister to appreciate Maverick’s handiwork. Well, that was fine.
I clicked the submit button.
My retaliation would be fucking sweet.
“Okay, meat’s done!” Dad called.
I tucked away my phone and went to grab a plate.
Despite my mom’s fussing, Dad had grilled the burgers and dogs to perfection—or close enough for my tastes.
I liked my hotdogs a little smoky, and I was starved after a long day working, so I wolfed down three, obliging Mom with a few carrots off her veggie tray, then topping it all off with a huge helping of apple pie.
Damn, life was good sometimes.
I whistled a jaunty tune as I drove home.
Good food—and a damn good prank retaliation—could do that for a man. The only thing that would be better was seeing Maverick’s expression when the shit hit the fan.
His car was the one centered in the driveway this time, but I just squeezed my truck in beside his car, parking close enough he’d have to crawl in through the passenger side. I was on my side of the grass, but I wasn’t fussy about that.
His front door flew open as I got out. He’d been watching for me to arrive, of course.
“You call that a parking job?” he asked.
I sauntered up the steps, taking in his form, backlit by the living room lights.
He wore clingy little yoga pants and a tank top.
His skin was glistening with sweat, as if maybe he’d been in the middle of a workout.
I briefly wondered what kind of exercise he engaged in.
Probably some sort of dance or step aerobics. He had the body for it, long and sleek.
“You’re lucky I didn’t ram that little car of yours after the shit you pulled today.”
Maverick blinked at me, trying to look innocent, but I didn’t trust those baby blues for even a second. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Pretty sure you do.”
He smirked, his full lips glistening with some kind of lip gloss. It made his lips shiny and…distracting. “That’ll hold up in a court of law.”
“Oh, it’s not the law that’ll come back to bite you in the ass, darlin’.”
He gasped, slapping a hand to his chest. “Are you saying you want a piece of my ass? Sorry, babe. You’re not my type.”
I sputtered out a denial, but he was already shutting the door in my face with a laugh.
Ohhh, that little troublemaker.
He was about to fuck around and find out.
Damon Cassidy always got the last laugh.