Page 10 of Flock
He runs his hands through his half-inch hair. “Really.”
“What branch?”
“Marines.”
“Did you like it?”
He smirks. “Not enough to make a career of it. Four years in, another four years on standby, but I guess I consider it time well spent.”
“Welcome back, Marine. Thank you for your service.”
“Most welcome.”
We clink bottles.
“Do you own one of those cars outside?”
“Yeah, the ’66 C20 is mine.”
I draw my brows, and he grins.
“The neon green pickup with the black top.” Pride oozes from his lips as I take him in. He’s a bit smaller in stature than Sean, but just as shredded physically. He’s got sweetheart eyes; a rich brown surrounded by black, naturally curled lashes. Clearly, there’s no shortage of hot men in the mountains. Christy will be thrilled. Though entertaining, and highly appealing, I’m just not sure any of them are my type. But with each sip of cider, I feel like I’m forming an opinion. And so far, I haven’t met a bicep I haven’t liked. That thought—combined with the cider—makes me giggle.
“What were you thinking, just then?” Tyler’s lips tug up at the corners, amping his smile to the next level.
“Just ... Yesterday I lived somewhere else, and now I’m in a stranger’s yard.”
“Crazy where a day can take you, huh?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s nothing unusual around here, trust me,” he says, inching closer. His predacious gaze sends a shiver along my neck.
“What do you mean?”
“Stick around long enough, you’ll see for yourself.”
“Well, I don’t hate it so far,” I drawl, knowing the cider is starting to speak on my behalf.
“Good to know,” he crowds me a little against the fence. It’s not threatening, but it’s close enough to feel some of the summer sun radiating off his skin.
“Back off, jar-dick, she just got here,” Sean says, nudging his way between us and looking at me with a lifted brow. “Where’s that mean mug?”
I lift my cider to indicate where it all went wrong, feeling warm all over as he takes it from me. “Let’s get you fed.”
Tyler grins at me over Sean’s obstructive shoulder. “See you around, Cecelia.”
“Hope so,” I tilt my head past Sean, so he can see my answering smile.
“Knew you were trouble,” Sean drawls out, shaking his head before leading me by the hand over to a fully stocked picnic table full of mixed barbecue and endless sides. Sean and I eat together, and it’s hard to avoid the looks we get huddled in our little bubble, isolated from the rest of the party.
“Ignore them,” he says through a mouthful. “And,” he points to me, playfully ordering, “mean mug.”
“Is there a reason we aren’t eating with everyone else?”
Lazy hazel eyes sweep me. “How about I want to keep you to myself for now?”
“That so?” I take a bite to hide my smile, unsure of the signals I want to send. Only inches apart when we started eating, our knees touch now as we lean toward each other. As we feast, we slide into easy conversation. He reveals he moved to Triple Falls when he was five, and met the friends he’s since taken up residence with. Sean, Tyler, and their other roommate moved into the house a week ago, which I assume is some of the reason for this gathering, along with Tyler’s homecoming. Sean’s worked between the plant and a garage since he graduated high school. And his family owns a restaurant on Main Street, which is a Triple Falls community staple. Though Sean speaks like he’s an open book, his eyes hold so much mystery, as if his words oppose his thoughts.
