“Fine.”
“You can microwave your pie when you get back and it’ll be all warm and fresh again.”
“It’s not the same.”
Trent stopped him at the door. “Who shit in your Wheaties?”
Lane groaned and tugged on his boots. “Come on before I strangle you.”
Trent went out of the door. “Finally, I swear. I don’t remember you being this much of a cranky baby.”
His hands pulled into fists. “I’m not cranky!”
“You’ve been crying about having to be here since you drove into town and hell if I know why. I for one am enjoying the easier work. Maybe you should slow it down some, quit getting up so early.”
“I like working.” Wearing himself out until he was numb to the bone so that when his head hit that pillow, there was no time for guilt, only blessed black, heavy sleep. He pulled his door closed and followed his brother to his truck.
“Well while you’re working, Babycakes Grant keeps bugging us, asking what’s going on with you.”
“Why doesn’t he just ask me?”
“Since we shared a womb, he thinks we’re all freaky mind-connected like identical twins.” Trent swirled his fingers around his temples.
“That still doesn’t answer why he doesn’t just ask me.” Not that he wanted Grant to ask him. Lord, this thing with Gretchen had him so messed up in the head.
“Because you’ve been acting like a cranky baby since you got here. Get your head out of your ass, take a moment to enjoy some of this and you might like it, you know.”
“I don’t want to like it.”
“Do you need a bottle?”
“Shut up.” He wasn’t cranky. He was just restless. Ready to go. He stretched out in the seat and leaned on the door. “I like my life in Louisiana. I’m ready to get this finished for Grant so I can get back to it.”
“The single-wide you got down there that fantastic?”
“I live in a single wide here.”
“And it comes with a beautiful woman hand delivering you pie.”
He kept his mouth shut and stared out the window until they pulled in the drive to the diner. Cars were everywhere. The large front glass windows showed the inside was packed out. “What is going on?”
“Birthday party.”
Hell. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Who’s party?”
“No idea.” Trent pulled the keys from his truck and hopped out.
Lane followed after. “Then why the hell are we here?”
“Because we were invited by the town. And because Jacob wants to flirt with Flora and I suspect you want to piss and moan over Gretchen and it’ll be a lot easier if she’s in front of you.”
He shook his head. They were here. And people at the table by the glass already saw them. There was no turning back now. He walked in and the first thing he spotted was Gretchen walking between tables, an apron around her waist, a drink tray propped on her shoulder that was at least two sizes bigger than she was.
Chapter Eight
Oh boy. Gretchen slid her tray of drinks down on the nearby table, unloaded it and headed for the front door where Lane stood with his brother. She forced a smile as her night just got a lot harder.
“Hey boys. Didn’t know you were coming.”
The older one, Trent, smiled down at her. “Jacob was coming, said to meet us here.”
She nodded. “He’s already here.”
She weaved through the tables toward the back where Jacob was already sitting with their youngest brother, Grant, and his girlfriend, Rebecca Gable. “Okay, boys. What do you want to drink?”
She turned around to find they were trying to fit their big bodies through the packed room. She pushed her sweaty bangs from her face and took advantage of the few seconds to breathe. A few patrons stopped them for a quick chat and offered her a few extra seconds. Seconds she made use of by staring at Lane’s tight jeans and a fitted brown shirt that did nothing to hide the firm shape of his body. Then there was his work boots. God, what was it about work boots? They were big and
“You can microwave your pie when you get back and it’ll be all warm and fresh again.”
“It’s not the same.”
Trent stopped him at the door. “Who shit in your Wheaties?”
Lane groaned and tugged on his boots. “Come on before I strangle you.”
Trent went out of the door. “Finally, I swear. I don’t remember you being this much of a cranky baby.”
His hands pulled into fists. “I’m not cranky!”
“You’ve been crying about having to be here since you drove into town and hell if I know why. I for one am enjoying the easier work. Maybe you should slow it down some, quit getting up so early.”
“I like working.” Wearing himself out until he was numb to the bone so that when his head hit that pillow, there was no time for guilt, only blessed black, heavy sleep. He pulled his door closed and followed his brother to his truck.
“Well while you’re working, Babycakes Grant keeps bugging us, asking what’s going on with you.”
“Why doesn’t he just ask me?”
“Since we shared a womb, he thinks we’re all freaky mind-connected like identical twins.” Trent swirled his fingers around his temples.
“That still doesn’t answer why he doesn’t just ask me.” Not that he wanted Grant to ask him. Lord, this thing with Gretchen had him so messed up in the head.
“Because you’ve been acting like a cranky baby since you got here. Get your head out of your ass, take a moment to enjoy some of this and you might like it, you know.”
“I don’t want to like it.”
“Do you need a bottle?”
“Shut up.” He wasn’t cranky. He was just restless. Ready to go. He stretched out in the seat and leaned on the door. “I like my life in Louisiana. I’m ready to get this finished for Grant so I can get back to it.”
“The single-wide you got down there that fantastic?”
“I live in a single wide here.”
“And it comes with a beautiful woman hand delivering you pie.”
He kept his mouth shut and stared out the window until they pulled in the drive to the diner. Cars were everywhere. The large front glass windows showed the inside was packed out. “What is going on?”
“Birthday party.”
Hell. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Who’s party?”
“No idea.” Trent pulled the keys from his truck and hopped out.
Lane followed after. “Then why the hell are we here?”
“Because we were invited by the town. And because Jacob wants to flirt with Flora and I suspect you want to piss and moan over Gretchen and it’ll be a lot easier if she’s in front of you.”
He shook his head. They were here. And people at the table by the glass already saw them. There was no turning back now. He walked in and the first thing he spotted was Gretchen walking between tables, an apron around her waist, a drink tray propped on her shoulder that was at least two sizes bigger than she was.
Chapter Eight
Oh boy. Gretchen slid her tray of drinks down on the nearby table, unloaded it and headed for the front door where Lane stood with his brother. She forced a smile as her night just got a lot harder.
“Hey boys. Didn’t know you were coming.”
The older one, Trent, smiled down at her. “Jacob was coming, said to meet us here.”
She nodded. “He’s already here.”
She weaved through the tables toward the back where Jacob was already sitting with their youngest brother, Grant, and his girlfriend, Rebecca Gable. “Okay, boys. What do you want to drink?”
She turned around to find they were trying to fit their big bodies through the packed room. She pushed her sweaty bangs from her face and took advantage of the few seconds to breathe. A few patrons stopped them for a quick chat and offered her a few extra seconds. Seconds she made use of by staring at Lane’s tight jeans and a fitted brown shirt that did nothing to hide the firm shape of his body. Then there was his work boots. God, what was it about work boots? They were big and
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