13. Brenna
13
brENNA
I’m just here to bang.
I mean, I’m not. I’m not banging anyone. The amount of quality time I’ve spent with Sherlock since Milo kissed me makes that perfectly clear. Actually, the amount of time ever since Milo walked in on Sherlock and me in action. Which, if we’re being completely transparent, I spend a fair amount of that quality time wishing it would happen again, and this time Milo would join in. Or take control.
But I digress.
Just here to bang. That’s what Milo’s smart-ass T-shirt of the day says. A faded royal blue with fireworks behind the heathered white words, the shirt is clearly well loved. At least by Milo. The disappointed look, complete with mini eye roll, that Miss Belle leveled at him multiple times during both the parade and pancake breakfast this morning made it clear that she’s not crazy about it.
Me? Yeah, I’d like to bang him. I mean…
I shake my head, trying to focus on something other than the innuendo that has been dancing through my mind all morning. Given the display of manly prowess in front of me, it isn’t easy.
A long stretch of rope lies on the ground, a bright orange flag tied around it indicating the middle. To the left of that flag is Atlas, Ezra, Landon, and Z Noble, Noel Keller, Dustin Wilder, and Jake Wright, the local grocer. Across from them, all six Hayes boys and Nash Keller—who looks so much like his fraternal twin they might as well be identical. And there’s not a bad looking one between them.
The sun is already high in the sky considering it’s not quite midday, bouncing brightly off the tan skin of each of these men. It’s like the muscular descendants of Greek gods decided to all line up and show off.
My mouth waters, eyes lingering on Milo. I know I shouldn’t. This isn’t that kind of date. But I can’t help it. He looks so good stretching and flexing as he prepares.
“It’s a smorgasbord of deliciousness,” Mell mutters from right next to me.
I hold back a laugh, unable to disagree, turning to look at her. She scans the group, as if she’s trying to pick just one and unable to do so.
“It’d be better if half of them weren’t older brothers.”
Mell and I startle, turning to my other side where Willa Hayes has suddenly appeared. Where did she come from?
“I admit, the boy cousins are very easy on the eyes, but they’re going down.”
“I hate this,” Bronwyn Ainsworth—Hayes’s director of marketing, Noel Keller’s fiancé, and one of Willa’s best friends—adds in.
“You hate tug-o-war?” I ask, not following. The grimace on her face makes it clear that she’s anxious about something, but for the life of me, I don’t understand what. It’s just a picnic game. Not even one where someone is likely to get hurt .
“Who do I cheer for? I’m a Hayes employee, but Noel…” She gestures to both sides, then throws her arms up in the air.
“Noel,” we all answer in unison.
The brown-haired landscaper looks up at the sound of his name, turning his gaze to us. Well, Bronwyn. As soon as he sees her standing there, his face lights up like a Christmas tree. He sends a wink and a kiss her way, making Bronwyn titter.
I want that…
Mr. Martinez, the Spanish teacher at Knox County High School, steps in between the two groups, explaining the rules. Neither set of guys seems to pay much attention, the whole lot of them having been a part of this matchup for so many years that a reminder of the rules seems pointless.
“So, you and Milo, huh?” Willa whispers, leaning in enough so that only I can hear her.
I freeze, unsure how to respond. I like Willa. Always have. She’s enough older than I am that we never really crossed over in school or extracurriculars, but with our older brothers being best friends, we spent a lot of time together as kids. She’s always been friendly to me, having my back when needed. None of that, however, is helpful when she’s questioning me about my relationship with her brother.
“I…errr…”
Shit. How do I answer this? I like Willa, I do. And we shared a moment in the Pour Decisions bathroom earlier this year. It was a weird moment, but a shared moment, nonetheless. Still, that doesn’t mean I can blab to her about the nothing that I wish was something that is happening between me and Milo. Her brother.
“It’s…it’s not what you think.” There. That’s a safe answer.
Willa’s face falls, her smile slipping. “But, could it be what I hope? ”
Err…what?
Willa hopes that…nope, this is my mind playing a trick on me. Regardless, she knows something is up. Knows that he and I are here together. And I can’t tell her the truth. So I go with the first thing I can think of.
“Would you believe he lost a bet?”
“Nope. Sassy-pants over there doesn’t make bets unless he knows he’s gonna win. It’s really annoying.”
The whistle blows, and a series of loud grunts fills the air as all fourteen men grab hold of that rope and pull. My eyes immediately fly to Milo, his face contorted as he holds on, using all his strength to try and yank the Nobles over the literal line drawn in the sand. If I thought he was beautiful before, seeing him like this, his biceps and forearms flexed, showing off muscles that are very well defined, shimmering in the sun, then I’ve found a whole new level of fantasy. Sweet merciful Lord, does watching him do this make my mouth water. And ache to have him handle me.
In whatever way he wants.
“Harder, boys!” Willa shouts, breaking my reverie. “Pull!”
My heart leaps with anticipation, getting way too invested in the back and forth of the flag. In wanting Milo to win. The crowd around us continues to shout, some with generic support, while others, like Willa, have clearly picked a side. And I can’t blame them, because it’s exciting. There’s a reason tug-o-war will have a crowd the entire day, some folks doing nothing but camping out here to watch as different families take each other on. None of those battles will be as competitive as this one, the opening battle of the day.
More grunts and groans escape from the guys, their efforts starting to take a toll on them. I have no idea how long they’ve been doing this—can't be more than a few minutes—but each one is still giving it their all. And that flag has barely moved from its original spot.
That is, until Landon lets go. It’s not a full release of the rope. Nothing more than an almost imperceptible readjustment of his grip. But it’s enough.
Hux lets out a loud, deep roar, almost a battle cry. One from deep down inside, that all the others on the Hayes side seem to understand. A secret code.
In a swift move, one that I would have thought coordinated if I hadn’t been watching this whole thing, they heave together, as one. It’s enough to shock the Nobles and set them off-balance. A couple more good pulls and they go flying, and the flag moves over the line.
“Yes!” Willa shouts, jumping up and down.
“Oh no,” Bronwyn sighs.
“Did I miss it? Shit,” Kenzie exclaims, sliding in behind Willa and me. “If anyone asks, I was here the whole time, ’kay?”
“Secret’s safe with us,” Mell tells her, earning a mouthed thank you in return.
“Time to kiss your victor!”
Willa grabs my hands, rushing us toward her family. They're in the middle of their own celebration mixed with being good sports and shaking hands with the Nobles.
“It’s not like that,” I tell her as we enter the fray.
Willa drops my hand, squealing as she leaps into Nash’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him hard. My heart squeezes, a wedge of jealousy sliding in. I want that. The elation that comes with being excited for someone you love, the ability to celebrate with them so publicly.
“Bren!”
I spin around, a smiling Milo three feet from me, removing his gloves and shoving them in his back pocket. My insides do somersaults, wishing that I could mimic Willa and leap into his arms. I can’t though. Because it’s not like that.
“We won!” he exclaims, arms wide in celebration.
Or at least, I think it’s celebration. But then he wraps them around me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground, twirling me. I hug him back, holding on for dear life as my legs spin outwards. Despite trying my best to keep my composure, I can’t. A giggle escapes, like the effervescence when a cork is popped.
A quick, chaste kiss to the cheek, then Milo sets me back on my feet, his gaze meeting mine, one side of his mouth quirked upward. I smile back, wishing I knew something cool or fun to say, but my mind is blank.
“Then make it that way.” Willa winks, appearing next to us, punching Milo softly in the shoulder.
He looks between her and me, confusion taking over. Nash doesn’t seem fazed though, pulling her in for another kiss, the two of them getting lost in each other.
“I missed something,” Milo says to me.
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you and my sister ganging up on me.” He steps into me, closing the gap. Those somersaults my insides were doing have turned into backflips, and I swear, if he gets any closer, it’s going to be an all-out floor routine. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. Always. Promise.”
“Promise?”
The one side of his mouth quirks upward again at the same time as his hand lands on my hip. And I’m done for. I can barely think, the heat from his grip searing into me, no doubt leaving a mark. One that I will gladly bear for the rest of my life.
“Promise. ”
It’s a miracle that the word makes it out of me in one piece. The fact that it earns me a smile—a real, honest-to-God full smile—is just the cherry on top of the oh my God Milo is holding on to me sundae.
Until he leans in.
It’s slow and subtle, but purposeful. Everything around us fades into a soft buzz, until the only thing I can hear is the blood pumping through my veins, faster and faster, as if my pulse speeding up will make him move faster. It doesn’t, but it doesn't stop him either.
His lips are all but to mine, my entire body screaming kiss me . Such a thing probably isn’t a good idea—on a number of levels. The least of which is that we are in a very, very public space. But I don’t care. I want nothing more than his lips on mine.
Then, they’re there. It’s a featherlight touch, but there’s no mistaking it. A sweet, gentle graze that?—
“Milo!”
Fucking Anton…
Milo steps back, an agitated sigh rushing from him. His hand stays put on my hip though, keeping us connected. Disappointment flows through me, even though my body relaxes. I didn’t even realize I had gone tense waiting for…whatever that was. An almost kiss? A kinda kiss? Who knows.
Mixed with my disappointment is a weird sense of relief that Milo seems to be feeling it too. Granted, I’m basing that off that noise he just made, and on the way his brow is knit together as he stares down Anton.
“We're heading out. You sure you’re not coming?” Anton asks. “Oh, hey Brenna.”
I smile politely, not wanting to interrupt. Instead, I look around, noticing that most of the group has moved on, including all the Hayeses and Nobles, the next group ready to start their own tug-o-war battle. I shift, looking to move out of the way even more, but Milo’s grip stops me. His fingers are now hooked through the loops on my shorts, making an escape a little more complicated. Not that I want to escape. In fact, I rather like the understated claiming.
No, no. Milo is not claiming you…
“I’m sure,” Milo says. His voice is firm and decided. But I still can’t help the feeling that something isn’t right.
“Whatever, dude.”
Anton gives us a mock salute before turning to go. I watch him, the unease in me growing. If he had plans, he needs to keep them. I don’t want to be the reason that he’s missing out on something. My lack of a second date does not take priority over anything. Especially if that something is family related.
“Milo, if you have some place else to be…” I trail off, my tummy aching over the threat of our day ending early. Even if it is the right thing to do.
“Only place I have to be is here. With you.”
I swoon. A perfect answer if there ever was one. Part of me wants to argue, to make sure that he really feels that way. But another part of me knows better. Milo isn’t one to tell you something because he thinks you want to hear it. One more thing I’ve always liked about him.
“As long as you're sure. Wouldn’t want to keep you from something important.” I lift my shoulder playfully, trying to give it a little sass. But Milo’s blue eyes hold on to me, full of something more serious.
“Bren,” he says, slowly, carefully, like it’s the most sacred word in the world. He tucks a stray hair behind my ear, leans in, and kisses my forehead. It’s sweet, loving, and despite the chasteness of it, is remarkably sexy. “There is nothing more important than spending today with you.”
And my knees are officially jelly. They should probably be commended for still managing to hold me up. I suck in a breath, trying to find an appropriate response. But I’m not sure there is one.
“Now,” he continues, “I do believe we have a water balloon fight to get to.”
“Toss. It’s a water balloon toss,” I correct him.
“Pretty sure I had it right the first time.”