Page 136 of Business Casual
We pull into my driveway and I frown. It’s full of cars that don’t belong to me and all the lights are on in my living room. A halo of golden light spills out from the front windows, making my front garden glow.
“That might have to wait,” I say slowly. Charlie puts the truck into Park and my front door opens. Beckett steps out onto my porch, his hands on my hips. “Yeah. It’s definitely going to have to wait.”
Charlie swallows hard. “Is he going to kill me?”
“I don’t think so.”
Beckett takes off his hat and drags his fingers through his hair, then tosses the hat to the side and cracks his knuckles. He points directly at the windshield, then at the pavement in front of him.
“Hmm,” I amend. “Maybe a little bit.”
Charlie blows out a breath and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “What does killing me alittle bitlook like?”
I shrug and unbuckle my seat belt. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“Awesome.”
I hop out of the truck and Charlie reluctantly follows, grabbing for my hand as soon as I’m close enough. Beckett stares at our hands clasped tightly together, an unreadable look on his face.
“What are you doing on my front porch at two in the morning?” I call out.
He ignores me. He keeps his gaze steady on Charlie, his eyes narrowing.
“You love her?” he yells from the steps of my porch, a challenge in his gruff voice. Charlie’s hand tightens around mine.
“Yeah,” he calls back.
Beckett shifts on his feet. “Is there a reason you didn’t feel the need to tell me you have feelings for my baby sister?”
Charlie shrugs. “Didn’t think I was good enough to.”
Beckett scowls. “Well, that was fucking stupid of you.”
I snicker. He turns his attention to me. “What are you laughing about? You weren’t exactly forthcoming either.”
The smile slips off my face. “That feels vaguely hypocritical, Mr. Elope-in-the-Middle-of-the-Day.”
“This isn’t about me.” He tips his chin in Charlie’s direction. “Do you love him?”
“You know I do.”
I literally shouted about it at family dinner. But Charlie releases a breath, and I know why Beckett asked the question. He wanted Charlie to hear it too.
Affection for my big brother warms my chest.
“Good,” he says. “Don’t fuck it up.”
And with that, he turns and disappears back into my house, slamming the door behind him. Charlie and I stand in my front yard holding hands, staring at the wreath made of dried mums on my front door as it swings back and forth.
“Was he talking to me or you?” Charlie asks.
“Both of us, I think.”
“Are we supposed to follow him, or—”
“I really don’t know. It’s my house.”
Charlie scratches at his jaw and glances at the rest of the cars in my driveway. “That looks like Caleb’s car.”
