Chapter 13 #3
His scowl deepened. “I said don’t laugh at me. This is all your fault.” He crossed his arms and transferred his glare to the assortment of plates crowding the small table.
I took him in, frustrated scowl and all, and followed my twin’s sage advice: I let the feelings and the attraction just exist. Rays of sunlight pierced the thick canopy of the oak tree to light up parts of his red hair.
His freckles were one hundred percent multiplying.
And he was so thoughtful that not only did he make me coffee exactly the way I liked it every single morning, but he’d severely over-compensated ordering lunch to make sure he got something I’d like.
“What?” he huffed, looking at me over his crossed arms.
I smiled at him and wanted to roll around like a pig in mud at how natural it felt.
“You’re right. It’s almost impossible to pick just one thing here because all of it is so good, which is why I never do.
I meant it when I said you couldn’t go wrong.
” I stood and squeezed his shoulder. “Be right back. Whatever you do, don’t feed the seagulls. ”
His gaze darted to one of the winged bastards lurking at the entrance of one of the wide alleyways as if it were going to pull a switchblade.
And honestly? It wouldn’t even surprise me if it did.
He was still eyeing it and the two others that had joined it suspiciously when I returned with a couple of to-go boxes, a bag, and a knife.
“Trust me?” I asked with a crooked grin.
His gaze darted to me, his blue-green eyes wide with surprise. “Of course.”
Granted, this was about food, but it warmed me to hear his quick response.
Yeah, I really liked JD, so I’d try to follow Alex’s advice not to get in my own way and enjoy this.
In short order, I’d quartered all the sandwiches, given us a plate with some of each, and boxed the rest. Once we’d eaten our fill, all that remained was to figure out how to roll ourselves out of there.
JD eyed the bag stuffed with leftovers. “Guess we won’t be needing to go to the pub later.”
I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or put out, so I shrugged. “Eh, we still could. They’re open really late, but we also have the entire summer.” His responding smile was everything I’d hoped it would be, so naturally an asshole from the past showed up and ruined our moment.
“So it’s true. You really are back. What happened, the Army, finally get tired of putting up with your pansy ass?”
I held up my hand to stop JD when he leaned forward undoubtedly to put this jerk where he belonged—on the ground—then leaned back to look up at the six-foot, red-necked (like seriously, dude, have you never heard of sunblock?), brown-haired, dipshit.
“Well, if it isn’t Brody Beecham. As a matter of fact, I am back.
Permanently. But not because they got ‘tired of putting up with me’ so much as the other way around.
Also, you should be nicer to pansies. They never did nothin’ to you.
Unless, of course, you mean pansy in the sense that you’re always thinking about me. In which case, please don’t.”
JD snorted, and Brody darted a hateful look at him while I continued to smile broadly. “You shut your face with that weird flower talk. I can see the Army didn’t manage to beat the queer out of you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw JD’s face harden, and I could have laid Brody out for that alone.
But there were better ways to bring a man like Brody down a peg or five.
“At least my queer ass actually made it into the Army.” I tapped my lips thoughtfully and furrowed my brow in concentration.
“Remind me, Brody, after you failed out of bootcamp, you wanted to go into the Coast Guard. Search and Rescue, am I right? Ooh, but you washed out of that too.” I sucked my teeth and shook my head. “Bummer, man.”
JD snickered, once again drawing Brody’s ire. “You got something to say, ginger freak?”
JD’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t respond to Brody, instead angling to address me. “Was it the holding your breath under the water thing? It’s always the holding your breath under the water.”
I smacked the table, absolutely loving that JD was playing with me. “You know, I do believe it was. Wasn’t it, Brody?” Poor bastard’s face was turning as red as his neck. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He’d made my summers hell growing up. Besides, he’d started it.
“Huh,” JD said, “I’d have thought someone who grew up on the coast would be better at holding their breath.” Brody slid past red into purple eggplant territory.
“What would you know about it?”
“Oh shit. My bad. I should have introduced you,” I interrupted. “Brody Beecham, I’d like you to meet my good buddy, Sergeant James Gallagher.”
JD was doing an absolutely horrible job of keeping his smug grin to himself as he peeled himself out of his plastic chair and stood to his full height, easily towering over Brody.
Like the good man he was, he held out a hand in greeting and waited for Brody to take it before adding, “Army Urban Search and Rescue, six years.”
I really wish I could have taken a picture of Brody’s face. I’d have framed that shit.