Page 37 of Best Kind of Trouble
“Otis,” Sophie chastises, her eyes full of disappointment. “You wouldn’t.”
Hannah slaps the table again. “And that, my friends, is why he never has any girls over.”
“Hanging what, dear boy?” Dottie asks brightly.
“Not hanging pictures, I’ll tell you that much,” Hannah says with a snort.
Otis tugs off his hat. “Look, not that it’s any of your business, but I go to their places. That’s what girls like to do to make sure you’re not a serial killer.”
Hannah shakes her head as she sips her tea. “What’s to stop you from serial-killing them intheirplaces?”
“I don’t know.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Maybethey have mace or brass knuckles or something. Some of them have dogs.”
“Is that how you got bitten by a dog last month?” Sophie muses. “I thought it happened on one of your odd jobs.”
“Look. I’m not really comfortable with this conversation,” he says desperately, darting a pleading glance at me as he lifts his beer for a sip.
“Leave him alone,” I say, feeling protective of Otis, and maybe a bit of myself, since Hannah’s constantly trying to get me to sign up for online dating. “He has every right to keep his dating life to himself. It’s none of our business who he ‘hangs’ with.”
I reach out and squeeze his hand, and he instantly drops his drink into his lap.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?” I ask.
He makes a strangled sound before setting his mostly empty glass down and reaching for the mass of napkins in the middle of the table. He presses the handful to his lap. “I’m fine, but I have to use the restroom.”
He walks off with the wad of napkins pressed to his crotch, just as our server, a pretty blonde girl around his age, comes by to ask if we have everything we need.
“Napkins,” Hannah says, gesturing toward Otis, who still hasn’t reached his destination. “Our friend there will need more of them. He had a little…accident.”
“He spilled a drink on himself,” I rush to explain, but the server walks away tittering. I turn toward Hannah, lowering my voice. “I’m glad I wasn’t one of your brothers.”
“Teasing is my love language,” Hannah says. “And Liam definitely gave as good as he got.”
I smile slightly, because I’m quite sure he did.
Then I remember that Liam just held my hair back while Ithrew up. He’d done it so calmly, like it was no big deal. But itwasa big deal.
Groaning, I bury my head in my hands. “Liam’s going to think I’m so unprofessional.”
Hannah pulls one of my hands away. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. He literally orchestrated his own firing today. And he nicknamed our boss Frodo.” Her brow furrows. “Actually, you know what? I might have done that. Anyway, you’re good.”
“But he held back my hair while I puked.”
“Itwasgallant of him, wasn’t it?” Dottie says. She pauses to sip some tea. “But a man should do such things. It’s what any true gentleman would do.”
Hannah laughs, but Sophie keeps casting concerned glances toward the restroom.
“Are you worried about Otis?” I ask. “I think he was just embarrassed, talking about his dating life with a bunch of older women.”
“It’s this crush he has on you.” She nudges her teacup with the tips of her fingers. “I keep thinking he’s going to get over it, but it only seems to get worse. Maybe it’ll be like a trial by fire if he helps out at the brewery for a while.”
“Crush? What are you talking about?” I protest. “I’m practically old enough to be his mother. He’s…like…a little brother.Yourlittle brother.”
“But he’s not yours,” Sophie says. “Have you honestly not noticed the way he’s always mooning over you?”
Hannah, who just took a sip of tea, nearly sprays it out. “No,” she chokes out, “because it’s the same way literally every man acts around her.”
“No, it’s not,” I insist.
