Chapter 18
Court had been in the bathroom for more than a half an hour, and Stephanie had started to worry about her. Her brothers, not so much, they were too busy quietly coming up with new ways to annoy her. New ways to make her want to leave and never come back. Just like old times.
By the time the bathroom door opened, they had decided on a plan of attack.
No one even noticed she had stopped with the planning.
There was no way she was going to put any attention on herself in front of Court.
It was bad enough that they were both pretending they didn’t know each other.
But she didn’t need her to think she had anything to do with the childish pranks.
A far more masculine Court stepped out of the bathroom, then had gone in.
Now in heather sweatpants and a green tank top that was soft looking even from across the room, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder again.
A shoulder that had an intricate tattoo on it.
Though Stephanie couldn’t see the design well from where she sat, she remembered it well from the week before.
How it had felt under her touch, how it had tasted.
How seeing it for the first time when Court peeled off her shirt had made her even hotter.
“Court, are you up for a beer?” Not able to hide his sly smile, Dylan asked, and Stephanie didn’t know how she couldn’t see it as a trap. It was as old as time.
“Sure, why not?” Tossing her bag back on the floor where it had been earlier in the night, Court walked right into the trap, based on her smile, happily.
What had happened in the bathroom that had her not leaving the house instantly. Stephanie knew she’d have. There was no way she’d have spent a moment longer. Which left her wondering why Court had come in the first place.
“Awesome, what is your poison?” Aaron asked as if their dad kept a well-stocked beer fridge.
“Anything really. I'm not picky.” Slipping her phone into her pocket, Court followed him into the kitchen. Her feet were bare now, and the pants made her ass look far better than they should. It was like her body was made for leisurewear.
Aaron’s wife smiled at her, playing the game as easily as her husband. “You must have a preference, Courtney.”
Slipping onto a stool at the counter next to Aaron’s wife, Court focused her attention on her. “Please, it’s Court. I’m a girly-drinks girl, but I don’t expect those unless I'm out at a club. Things can go wrong really quickly when the wrong person is the bartender.”
“I see, clubs, we always just seem to get to bars. Clubs are so much more fun. We haven’t been since Greyson was born.” Aaron’s wife pouted a little. Greyson was their second, which meant the clubbing probably ended before this year.
“Yeah, my friends and I are clubbers. Have been for years. Not every week, but most.” Court turned her attention to Stephanie. “Do you club?”
“Um, no, not really.” She stumbled over the answer and wondered exactly why she had lied. Her family couldn’t expect her to not go out, she was almost thirty.
“Not even to the Button?” Court said the name of the club. The woman wasn’t letting on that she knew she was lying.
“Never heard of it. Is it new?” Yup, she was going deep tonight.
“Nope. Been there for years. It’s maybe not your sort of place.” Court winked at her before turning back to the boys and the beer they handed her.
Court looked at the can for only a second before tossing it at Dylan, who was casually leaning against the counter. “Think fast, Dylan.”
Except he wasn’t paying enough attention and barely ducked quick enough to not be hit in the face by the can.
Which meant the can flew past him and slammed hard into the counter, cracking open in the process and spraying the entire room with a spray of foamy beer.
It got on everything and everyone sitting remotely close to it.
Court, for her part, didn’t react at all, as if she knew what was going to happen.
Instantly, Aaron grabbed a towel, throwing it on the can that was rolling on the floor, stopping the spray, but the contents were still leaking onto the floor. But the mess was already there, dripping from the cabinets onto anything that had been left out on the countertop.
“You are in so much trouble, Dylan!” Aaron said in a loud whisper. “Mom is going to kill you for messing up her kitchen.”
“Courtney threw it.” Dylan pointed at her, grabbing a roll of paper towels to clean up.
“And you missed.” Stephanie argued, jumping to her feet to help clean it up, because she didn’t know if Court would defend herself.
Running water onto some rags, she handed them to her brother before starting to wipe down the cabinets.
Aaron was spot on, their mom would kill them for messing up her kitchen.
The kitchen had always been her domain, and nobody was allowed in unless they knew not to make a mess.
And the spilled beer was a mess that needed to be cleaned before she ever found out.
“Sorry guys, I didn’t think Dylan would miss. It was an easy catch. I thought you were in sports.” Court said, not moving from her spot, just watching the others clean.
“I was. But football is nothing like cans flying at my head.” Dylan grumbled as he finally got the dripping can into the sink.
“Where are Calvin and Marlene?” Court ignored the fact that all the kids were now cleaning the kitchen.
Aaron tossed a paper towel in the trash before answering, “They went to bed, same with Laura and family.”
“This early?” Court was still on the stool, not helping. Though the siblings didn’t leave a lot of room to get at the dirty spots.
“That’s what I said. When did they get so old?” Aaron got up from the floor and tossed away the soggy paper towels.
“At least we are all still young enough to enjoy a fun evening.” Court finally got up, opened the fridge and handed out beer cans to everyone. As she opened one that hadn’t been shaken up, she lifted the can in a small cheer to Stephanie. She was on to them.
Two hours later, everyone had gone to bed except Aaron, Stephanie and Court.
A case of beer was already half gone, and Stephanie longed for sleep, except her brother was sitting on her sleeping couch.
And he thought he could stay awake longer than Court.
Why he even wanted to was beyond her. All Court had said was that she rarely went to bed before midnight on the weekend.
And that she worked better late at night.
That comment had been said more to Stephanie than to her brother, but he hadn’t noticed.
Hadn’t noticed how much of her attention had been on Stephanie.
Mostly because he had drunk at least half the beer while Court and Stephanie nursed theirs.
Both probably realized that they shouldn’t drop the inhibitions tonight.
“You go to Florida all the time.” He said, not for the first time.
“No, not all the time. Enough to know my way to the keys and around them.” Court said.
“The keys. Everyone goes there. You should expand your horizons.” He rambled, but his attention was on the beer in his hands, not the women in the room.
“My horizons are fine. I'm not a big vacationer. What about you, Stephanie? Do you like a good vacation?”
“I like them, just can never afford them.” Stephanie admitted, though she wouldn’t trade her gym for any vacations she could be taking.
“Not even with owning your own gym? That must make you some money.” Court asked.
Leaning back into the couch, she admitted, since her brother wasn’t listening, or probably too drunk to remember anyway, “Some, not a lot. We don’t have enough members to make it feasible to leave for an extended period of time yet. We are so far at around fifty percent.”
Court took a sip of her beer before asking, “How long have you been open?”
“Two years.” She held up two fingers.
“What type of advertising are you doing?”
“Flyers and newspaper ads, mostly. We hit fifty percent last year and have just hung steady with those who stopped coming and new blood. Can’t seem to get over the hump.”
“If you remained steady for so long, you have exhausted your market there. Have you tried the radio? Radio reaches more people, and if you give an incentive, they might show up.” Focusing on her, Court was leaning back on the couch, not paying Aaron any attention.
Sitting up, she liked the sound of her suggestions. “We haven’t done any radio ads.”
“People still listen to the radio, especially for local things. You should do a New Year’s in August sale. Like Christmas in July, but for those who make a resolution to get in shape for the New Year. Maybe get those who have dropped their membership elsewhere, but fall is setting in.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll just have to run it past Jordan, but she's going to love it. Do you work in marketing?” She asked with interest. She had said banking, but she could have lied. Hadn’t they both lied a little that night?
Court shook her head at the suggestion. “No way. Marketing is of no interest to me.”