Chapter 12
Bryson
I collapsed into a hammock I’d strung between two posts in the new camping display. I’d spent the past two hours setting up a camping scene complete with tent, cooler, grill, chairs, posed mannequins sporting outdoor gear and backpacks, and hanging lanterns.
“Sleeping on the job?” Branson asked from the counter where he was working on business paperwork that would give me hives to even contemplate.
I flailed out an arm. “I have built a kingdom. Now, I must rest.”
He chuckled. “It looks great, Bry. This place is starting to look like a real store.”
“A half-empty store,” I grumbled.
We were still lacking some essential inventory, but I had to admit, my campsite looked damn good.
“We’ll get there,” Branson said.
I rolled my head toward him. “Someone has found his inner peace. Aren’t you usually the one stressing the fuck out?”
He grinned and shrugged. “I’ve got too much wedding on the brain. I’ll find space for worrying about the store later, when I’m trying to sleep.”
I frowned. He looked a little worn.
“Let me cover the worry here,” I said. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to set up a new business while getting married.”
I smiled sympathetically. “You wanted to start your new life. Besides, you’ve got me.” I rolled out of the hammock. “Come try this out, Bran. Take a power nap.”
He chuckled. “Not necessary.”
“Get your ass in the hammock,” I said. “Before I put you there.”
I started toward the check-out counter, and he backed away. “All right, no need for violence. I’ll try it out.”
“Good. I’ll wake you at quittin’ time.”
Branson lowered himself into the hammock, closed his eyes, and was almost instantly asleep. He really had needed the rest. Me, I was the opposite. I had too much time on my hands.
Too much time to think about Silas and how damn close I’d come to kissing him in that elevator.
Too much time to wonder if he’d have pushed me away if I did. I didn’t think so, judging by the look in his eyes. But maybe I was projecting my own urges onto him. Maybe my ego needed to take a backseat.
I added each campsite display item into inventory—ensuring we’d be ready to sell the products on opening day. Of course, I forgot to add the dang barcode at first, and so I had to backtrack and redo some of my work. By the time I finished, it was past closing time.
I went to wake Branson. He sat up so suddenly he nearly fell out of the hammock. I grabbed his shoulder.
“Whoa. You okay? Need me to drive you home?”
He scrubbed at his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the hammock. “No, I’m good. Just groggy.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“What time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
“Shit. I’m late to meet Caitlyn at her mom’s house for dinner tonight.” He glanced at me. “Want to join us? Pretty sure Molly won’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass. Think I’ll just grab some tacos and crash out.”
No offense to Caitlyn’s mother, but she wasn’t the one I wanted to flirt with.
“Okay,” Branson said. “Damn, I’m a little jealous. Taco Loco is so good.”
“Yeah? I haven’t been there.”
“Make sure you get the sampler platter. You won’t be sorry. Caitlyn loves their guac too.” He sighed. “Now I wish I was going with you.”
“Don’t tell your bride that,” I teased. “She might be offended.”
“Yeah, family duty calls,” he said. “I’ll be glad when we’re done planning the wedding. Every meal turns into Molly grilling us about our plans and suggesting changes we don’t want to make.”
I grimaced. “No fun. But, you know, at least she’s not harassing you to give her grandbabies yet.”
“Yet?”
“It’s coming right after the wedding, bro. You better prepare yourself.”
He groaned. “Great. Well, on that note, I guess I’ll head to my last supper.”
I laughed. “You only wish it was your last supper. You’ve signed up for this for life!”
He flipped me the bird over his shoulder as he went out the door. It was mean to torment him, but hell, I didn’t have a lot else going for me right now. Still chuckling to myself, I closed up the store and set the alarm, then climbed into my pickup and headed for Taco Loco.
It was a sit-down restaurant, but I wasn’t in the mood to dine alone. I had good self-confidence, but that was just too sad. I’d just go in and have a drink at the bar while I waited for a to-go order.
A rush of sound greeted me as I stepped inside: upbeat Mariachi music, the chatter of many voices, and the clinking of forks on plates and the scrape of chairs over tile. It was a little overwhelming after a day of mostly silence at the store.
But the aromas had me eagerly stepping toward the bar. Savory spices, sizzling beef and chicken, fresh tomatoes and peppers. My mouth started watering.
The bartender wasn’t bad either. Rugged, with long, unruly hair and a disarming smile he must use to get great tips. I took a seat in front of him.
“Hey,” he said. “Branson, right?”
“Bryson,” I corrected. “Twin.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. I didn’t realize. Well, that must be cool.”
“Eh, it has its pros and cons. Switching places as kids to avoid classes we hated was pretty cool. Getting mixed up when we don’t want to be? Less so. It kind of fucked up everything with the guy I was trying to date.”
He raised his eyebrows. “This seems like a story. How about I get you a drink and you tell me everything?”
“Just get me a beer on tap. Something malty.”
“Got it.”
“I’d like to put in a takeout order too. For the taco sampler?”
“All right.” He picked up a tablet and tapped my order into it. “Got it. So fire away. What happened with the guy?”
Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to spill my sorry story to another person. “Just a little identity mixup,” I said vaguely. “My brother is engaged, so you can imagine how that went over.”
“Oh, no.” The bartender laughed as he pulled my beer. “Sorry, man. Not laughing at you. Just, life can be ridiculous sometimes, you know? I haven’t had the best luck either. My last hookup ghosted me.”
“Sorry,” I said. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah, what’s worse is that he and his friends have drinks here every week.” He glanced across the bar. “Shit, here he comes now. That’s a first. Usually he avoids me.”
I turned in my seat just as Silas glided up to the bar. Oh, fuck no. The bartender was hung up on Silas too? Was I just one of a horde of men pining over this guy?
“Hey, Bryson,” Silas said. “I’m surprised to see you here. You meeting someone?”
The bartender scowled. “Nice to see you too, Silas.”
Silas flicked a gaze his way. “Hi, Paxton. Sorry. I came over to have a word with Bryson. Can you give us a minute?”
Paxton’s jaw tensed. “Whatever.”
He moved down the bar to serve someone else. Silas turned back to me. “So, uh, I hope you’re not flirting with Pax?” He lowered his voice. “The sex is really bad. Most selfish lover I’ve ever had.”
“And you’ve had a lot, by the sounds of it.”
His lips quirked. “Are you the virtue police?”
“No.” I exhaled. “Sorry. I’m just… I wasn’t expecting to run into one of your hookups. And I guess I’m just wondering if I’m a fool.”
“Why would you be a fool, Bryson?” Silas asked, eyes meeting mine.
“For thinking I could be any different to you.”
Silas’s face tensed, and he didn’t answer immediately. He picked up my beer and stole a sip. “Of course you’re different. Even if I kind of wish you weren’t.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
He smiled tightly. “It’s the best I’ve got. Look, I’m here with some friends.” He gestured across the bar. “You can join us?”
“Why would you want me to do that?”
He slanted a glance down the bar. “Well, I’d rather Paxton didn’t poison your opinion of me. Or flirt his way into your pants. Whichever.”
“Hmm.” I ran a finger around the rim of my beer. “Why would you care who gets into my pants?”
“Because, if nothing else, you’re the best man in a wedding I’m planning. It would be wrong of me as a wedding planner to let you be seduced by such a terrible sex partner. I’ve got a reputation at stake here.”
I laughed. “He’s that bad?”
“The worst.”
“And what about me? Where do I rank on the Silas chart of sex partners?”
He rolled his eyes. “Where do you think?”
“First place?”
“By a country mile,” he said. “So, are you joining us or not?”
Silas might only be inviting me over to save face or out of a misplaced sense of jealousy, but I wasn’t going to miss a chance to get to know him better. With friends there, I might get a peek at the real Silas again.
I stood and grabbed my beer. “Okay, lead the way.”
Silas weaved between tables, his narrow hips and shapely ass drawing my gaze as I followed him. Damn, no wonder the man was leaving a trail of panting men behind him.
He led me to a booth with two other men. One had fuchsia hair that flopped over his forehead, a pert nose, and a wide generous mouth. He was a looker, for sure. The other guy was like a cute boy next door with wavy brown hair and big eyes that gave him an air of innocence.
“This is Maverick and Jamie,” Silas said as he took a seat. “Guys, this is Bryson. I’m planning his brother’s wedding.”
“His twin brother’s wedding, yes?” Maverick said, a hint of knowing in his tone. So Silas had told his friends about me. That was a good sign, right? Maybe not all was lost just yet.
“That’s right,” I said. “Have you all been friends long?”
“For a few years now,” Jamie answered. “We met when Silas planned my brother’s wedding, too.”
I chuckled. “No kidding.” I glanced at Maverick. “What about you?”
“I’m a florist. We do a lot of work together.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Are you doing Branson’s wedding?”
“He is,” Silas answered. “The Kennedy wedding.”
“Not the Larkin wedding?” I asked.
“Caitlyn did all the planning with me for months, hence, it’s the Kennedy wedding,” Silas said with a challenge in his voice.
“I see how it is,” I said with a grin. “My mistake.”
“Damn right,” Silas said. “Caitlyn has worked hard, and she deserves a lot of thanks for carrying the load for Branson.”