Gibson Boys Box Set Page 2

  Looking away, it takes everything I have not to laugh. The plea in her voice is so damn adorable it almost makes me give in. Yet, she hasn’t shown any remorse, and that’s something I can’t get to sit right.

  Swiping the bat out of the gutter, I extend it to her. The air between us heats, our fingers brushing in the exchange. The contact is enough to have her eyes flicking to mine. The light above may be dim, but it’s bright enough to see the way her lids hood, her lips part just barely as she pulls her skin from mine.

  A zip of energy tumbles through my veins and I remind myself I can’t tug on the bat and pull her into me. There’s no way I can cover her lips with my own, sliding my tongue across hers, making her attempt at resistance to this proposed swing futile.

  Instead, I step back.

  “Batter up.” Peck motions for her to go. “Let’s see it.”

  “Are you really going to make me do this?”

  “Did you really just smash the front of my truck?” I ask. “The answer is the same to both questions, Slugger.”

  Her eyes narrow, but there’s a fire in them that turns me the hell on. She steps away from her friend, zapping all the power I held just a few seconds ago with the flick of her tongue. It darts out, rolling across her bottom lip as the bat comes over her head. Sticking her ass out, bending her knees, her eyes still locked on mine, she slices the bat through the air … and stops it at the last possible second before impact.

  It’s everything I thought it would be.

  “Any questions, fellas?” she asks, propping it up on one shoulder.

  “I have one,” I say, forcing a swallow, trying to redirect my thoughts. “If you could stop it that fast, then why the fuck didn’t you do that the first time?”

  “Very funny.” She tosses the bat into the back seat of the car and crosses her arms in front of her again.

  “Can I ask why you have a baseball bat to begin with?” Lance asks. “Do you belong to some softball league or something? If so, I just took a huge interest in women’s softball.”

  Sienna laughs as Delaney’s face turns red. “Delaney’s car is like a scavenger hunt. You can find anything in there. So while she got sick, I just rummaged around in the trunk, found the bat, and fooled around.” She looks at me, her eyes softening. “Are you going to be here for a while? I’ll go home and get the money. I didn’t bring my debit card with me tonight.”

  It’ll cost fifty bucks to fix the damage and about an hour’s time. Definitely not worth her going out of her way tonight. But it is worth making her come around again and say she’s sorry. It might do her some good.

  Might not hurt me either.

  She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, the motion driving me crazy.

  “Come see me Monday morning at Crank. It’s two streets over,” I say, gesturing to the north, before I can talk sense in to myself.

  “Smart,” Peck whispers behind me, getting an elbow to the side from Lance.

  Her jaw sets, a glimmer of resistance clouding her baby blue eyes. “I have plans Monday. I can try on Tuesday.”

  The nonchalant attitude cuts through me, like her fuckup is no big deal. I wasn’t set on Monday morning, but I am now. “Monday or I call the Sheriff. Your decision, but make it quick. I got shit to do.”

  “Fine,” she huffs. “Monday.”

  “Fine,” I mock. “See you Monday morning.”

  We start back down the sidewalk, her gaze heavy on my back. I pause at the bumper of their car. “Peck got your license plate number, so don’t think about not showing.”

  “I did not,” Peck hisses, catching another elbow from Lance as their car doors open and slam shut.

  “What the hell are you going to do with that?” Lance asks once we’re out of earshot. “Because I have a list of suggestions if you need them.”

  As we get farther away, the air clearing of Sienna’s perfume, I realize it’s not suggestions I need. It’s a heavy dose of self-control.

  Two

  Sienna

  I didn’t even say I’m sorry.

  Groaning, I roll over and toss the magazine I was trying to distract myself with onto the coffee table. Out of all the things that could’ve kept me up last night, it was my conscience.

  Tossing and turning all night, my brain feels like it’s been through the wringer and my body through a fight.

  Shutting my eyes, I see Walker’s face just like I have every thirty seconds since I saw him. His thick, shiny black hair and bottomless brown eyes stare back at me. The controlled demeanor and intensity that swirled off him like a tremor foreshadowing an earthquake make me unsteady.

  Putting him in a box seems impossible. He relaxes me with a smile and then puts my defenses up with an asshole remark. He’s playful when asking me to swing the bat, yet demanding with his “Be there Monday morning or Sheriff.” It’s dizzying.

  “Hey.” Delaney’s voice jostles me from my daydream. “How long have you been up?”

  “A while. The neighbor decided to mow his lawn at the crack of dawn,” I say, omitting the whole Walker thing for now.

  She yawns, stretching her arms high above her head. “I just started a pot of coffee. Had any yet?”

  “Nope. I’m too tired for even basic tasks this morning.”

  “Do you have a busy day planned or can you just chill out?”

  “Well, since we wrapped up the project that would never end and decided to take a couple weeks off before jumping back in, I’m chilling out.”

  She curls up on the chair across from me. “We needed this break. I needed this break.”

  “Me too,” I admit. “My brain needs to reset. We’ve done great this first year, but there are so many ways we could go starting this fall. I read some articles I want to show you.”

  Delaney nods, gazing into the distance.

  The summer sun streams through the windows, a threat of rain rolling in from the west. Before we know it, it’ll be fall, then winter, and another year will have passed.

  Thinking of it like that causes a swell of anxiety to bubble in my belly, a reminder that another year will have gone by and I still feel like I have nothing figured out about my life.

  I’m only in Illinois because of Delaney. When she came up with the idea for Boutique Designs, I was all in and didn’t even mind moving up here despite my hatred of all things winter so she could stay near her family. But now our lease is almost up on the house we’ve been renting, and when I try to push forward on expanding our brand and getting a long-term plan in place, she drags her feet. I’m in this static state, unable to move.

  “About all that…” Delaney says.

  Sitting up, groaning as my back screams in distress, I push it aside and focus on my friend. “What’s up?”

  “Um, well …” She takes down her ponytail and puts it back up. “I want to thank you for being such a good friend.”

  “Okay …”

  She takes a slow, deep breath. “Remember when I had dinner with my mom a few weeks ago and came home crying?”

  “Yeah,” I say, utterly confused as to where this is going.

  “Dad got a new contract at the farm.”

  “That’s great,” I say, knowing her family had been struggling. “He must be thrilled.”

  “He is. Mom too. It’s for production of organic dairy, which is all the rage, but there’s all this red tape involved …” She looks at the floor, avoiding my gaze.

  Shifting in my seat, I try to figure out what she’s saying so she doesn’t have to come out and say it. I got nothing. “What does this mean for you?”

  “They need my help. Full time.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t design with you and work for them. It would be too much to do both things.”

  “Is that what you want?” I ask, my mind reeling. This would answer so many questions, explain her lack of motivation over the last few weeks.

  “I don’t know,” she groans, getting to her feet. She walks a circle around the
living room, kicking a gum wrapper as she goes. “I need to help my parents. I’m not sure they’ll make it if I don’t.” Her voice breaks, and when she looks at me, her eyes are watery.

  “I get it.” Standing, I make my way to her and pull her into a hug. “Family always comes first, Delaney. I respect that.”

  She pulls back, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “You are the best person I know.”

  “Oh, I am not,” I laugh.

  “Yes, you are. You’re so kind. You want to fix everything and you’d give anyone the shirt off your back. You’re gorgeous and talented and—”

  “Stop. You’re making me feel weird.”

  She laughs too before taking her seat again. “I’ll have to move back to my parents’ property. Is that okay? I mean, I know you can afford the rent, but I feel like I’m abandoning you.”

  “It’s fine. You do what you have to do.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, I can’t help but wonder what I will do. Where does this leave me?

  “I didn’t even want to bring this up until we finished the Paxton Project and were on vacation. I’ve been a wreck.”

  “Don’t be nervous about talking to me. Ever,” I tell her. “You’ll just be a half hour away. I’ll be fine here until I figure out how to navigate this little curveball.”

  She sniffles before getting back up, her nerves getting the best of her. “Enough touchy-feely. I’m going to get coffee.”

  “You do that,” I laugh, listening to her grumble about not being a baby as she walks out of the room.

  Falling back onto the couch again, I rub my temples. As if I didn’t have enough stress with the truck issue, now I have this.

  Looking around the place we’ve lived in for a year now, it suddenly feels less like home than it did ten minutes ago, and it didn’t feel particularly home-like then. With Delaney gone, it’ll be even worse.

  A bout of loneliness creeps in to my stomach as I try to figure out what I’m going to do. Stay here? A place I know really no one but Delaney and a couple of her friends and a couple of guys I’ve seen here and there? Or go back to Savannah and feel like a failure for landing back there again?

  What do I do with Boutique Designs? Can I run it on my own? Can I do the things I want to do as a one-woman show?

  I bury my head in my hands.

  “You’re okay with this?” Delaney asks, coming in and handing me a mug of coffee.

  “I understand you wanting to help your family. Of course,” I tell her. “I hope someday you figure out how to follow your dreams in the process, but I get it. Truly.”

  “Will you stay here or go back to Georgia?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, sipping the brew. “That’s the beauty of our company, I guess. I can do it from anywhere.”

  “I’d go back. There are all those sexy-as-hell brothers of yours.”

  “Brothers, Delaney. They’re my brothers. They’re gross.”

  I attempt a snarl, but it doesn’t come out that way. As gross as they are, I love them so much. Despite their overbearing and ridiculous antics, they are the best brothers in the world and have taught me so much.

  Delaney smiles over the brim of her mug. “So stay here.”

  “Probably not,” I laugh. “I’m definitely going somewhere warmer. Somewhere … inspiring.”

  “You know what I find inspiring?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “We should go to the bakery over in Linton and get a donut and see if we can bump into anyone.”

  The tension in my shoulders evaporates as the notes of her giggle work through the room and I see right through her plan. “Yeah, I’m sure the guys from the bar are having a croissant there this morning, Delaney,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Highly unlikely.”

  “Probably not. But we might run into them at the gas station. Or …”

  “We are not stalking random guys on a Sunday morning,” I laugh. “Even if they were totally cute.”

  “Cute? They aren’t puppies, Sienna. They were stallions.”

  “You’ve officially lost it.”

  She grins, plopping down her coffee mug and tucking her legs up under her. The lightheartedness slips from her face as she clears her throat. “What are you going to do about the truck?”

  The flip of my stomach at his smirk turns into a crazy knotted mess at the memory of last night.

  Everything about last night was an epic fail.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do about it,” I sigh. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I don’t even think I said I’m sorry.”

  “In your defense, none of us were prepared to be accosted by three men that good-looking at midnight in Linton of all places.”

  “What do they put in the water over there?”

  “Sex appeal. Straight into the pipeline,” she says, pumping a fist in celebration of our luck.

  The lust dampens as my conscience takes over and guilt swamps me. “Now that I’ve had a second to clear my mind, I’m kind of embarrassed, Delaney.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I know. But I messed up his truck,” I wince. “And I probably came across as an unapologetic brat.”

  “No one uses the word ‘brat’ unless they’re eighty,” she teases. “And you are the least bratty person I’ve ever met.”

  “That doesn’t mean he knows that.”

  She considers this. “Okay. I see your point and I have a suggestion.”

  Groaning, I set my mug on the coffee table. “I’m not sure I even want to hear this.”

  “Sure you do!” she says, her eyes dancing. “Go over there on Monday and offer up a night with you in exchange for the damage.”

  “I will do no such thing,” I say, shaking my head. But two nights …

  “But you want to. I know you do.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I laugh. “I’m going over there on Monday to apologize and offer again to pay for the damage—with money. It’s the least I can do. And hopefully he won’t file a police report.”

  “He’s not going to do that,” she tsks.

  “We don’t know anything about them other than they’re cute. They could be total assholes, Delaney. I can’t risk it. Can you imagine Graham’s reaction? Or my father’s?” My eyes squeeze shut so hard my temple pulses. “I can hear them now. It would be a nightmare.”

  “Fine. You’re right. Go see him Monday and say you’re sorry. But if he offers any other exchanges, follow through and give me details.”

  My cheeks heat as I consider being in Walker’s orbit again. All night, I kept telling myself I imagined the weight of his gaze and the crackle of energy that passed between us as he handed me the bat. It will do me no good to create some infatuation with the sexy stranger. When I see him again, especially being a desecrator of his property, I need to have my wits about me in case I need to think straight. That means not fantasizing about him. Again. Too much.

  Delaney hops off the barstool and rinses out her coffee cup. “If you won’t go to Linton, I’m getting a shower. Let’s do something this afternoon. We could get manicures.”

  “Let’s do that.”

  She flips me a thumbs-up and pads down the hallway towards the bathroom.

  Gazing out the window, my heartbeat picks up at the thought of seeing Walker tomorrow. He was playful with his teasing, but there was a glimmer of seriousness buried in those deliciously dark eyes. Just pretending to feel them watching me has a rash of goose bumps flittering across my skin.

  It may not be a bad way to spend a few nights while I’m still in town. Then again, something tells me spending even one night with Walker might be the worst thing to ever happen to me.

  Three

  Walker

  “It was the alternator after all,” Peck sighs, wiping his greasy hands off on a blue towel.

  “I’ll get a new one ordered. What about the tire for the Ranger? Did you get it on? David should be in this afternoon to pick it up.”

  “Done, boss.”

>   Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to the office of Crank, holding it open for my one employee. “Why don’t you go ahead and get lunch?”

  “Okay.” Peck tosses the dirty rag towards the hamper along the back wall. It hits the rounded top of the pile and spills onto the floor with an assortment of others. “That’s getting a little out of control, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “Maybe I’ll take them to the laundromat tonight.”

  Glancing around the shop, I take in everything that needs to be done. Shit I don’t have time for. Shit I never thought about needing to do when I took this place over after my parents passed away a few years ago. I just saw the business that I’d wanted to have as my own since I was twelve and decided that being a bull rider might not be for me. Despite helping out here since I could walk, I never realized all of the little things that had to be done. I hate them.

  Besides the shop rags, there’s a coffee pot that hasn’t been washed maybe ever. A bathroom with more discarded toilet paper tubes than actual toilet paper. Mud that was tracked in last week in the rain still dots the floor, and piles upon piles of receipts, work notes, orders, and shipping logs are scattered across the desk. And I have no time or energy to sort any of it.

  “I’m going to head home and grab a bite to eat,” Peck says. “Nana made fried chicken yesterday and sent leftovers home with me.”

  “The one Sunday dinner I miss and she makes fried chicken. Are you kidding me?”

  “I think she was going to make meatloaf and then you skipped church. This was your punishment” he cackles. “Miss next week, will ya? Maybe we’ll get dumplings.”

  “Get out of here while you still have a job. And bring me back some.”

  “That’s the thing,” he says, calling out over his shoulder. “She only sent enough for me. Seems like she knew you’d ask that.”

  His laughter trails through the room as the door snaps shut behind him.