“No pressure,” Travis tacked on. “Just show up if you wanna hang out.”
“Thanks.”
Travis nodded. “I’ll get outta your hair.”
Brantley followed him toward the door, coming up short when Travis turned back.
“It’s good to have you back, man. I hope you know that.”
Surprised by the sincerity in Travis’s voice, he found himself nodding again. “Thanks.”
“I just hope with time, you’ll improve your coffee-makin’ abilities. That’s the weakest shit I’ve ever had.”
Brantley barked a laugh, stared as Travis continued to the door.
Before it closed behind him, Travis peered back over his shoulder. “Buy yourself a goddamn couch, Brantley.”
“I’ll consider it.”
And he did. For about three seconds, then he tossed it aside, just as he’d done with everything on his to-do list lately. The only time he worked on his house was when the quiet became too much.
Which, these days, seemed to be all the damn time.
A beer tonight, dinner tomorrow.
Brantley took a drink of his weak-ass coffee, smiled. If this was weak, Travis must’ve been used to drinking motor oil.
Staring out the back door, he noticed the sun was just coming over the horizon. Sure, he’d been up for a couple of hours now, but that was par for the course. His day started long before everyone else’s. Probably would’ve made sense if he was doing anything with the fifteen acres of land he’d planted his ass on. Like plowing the earth, harvesting something.
That was something else he’d considered. For about a minute.
Nope. Farming, like working for his cousin, was not on his bucket list.
Not yet, anyway.
And if he was lucky … not ever.
Later that night, Brantley found himself sitting at a table in IHOP with nearly a dozen of his cousins and a couple of guys he’d been briefly introduced to.
His cousin Sawyer’s idea, of course.
After a round of beers had been downed at Moonshiners, someone had mentioned pancakes, which had gotten Sawyer, another of Brantley’s cousins, riled up until, eventually, they piled out of the small bar and made the thirty-minute trek to the neighboring city. They’d gotten comfortable at the table a good hour and a half ago, and based on the slumberous gazes, they’d all gotten their fill, yet no one was moving to leave.
And though he’d participated in the conversation, the topic had shifted to kids, leaving Brantley on the periphery. At the moment, Travis and Kaleb were relaying stories of their school-age kids and the interesting details Mason and Kate would relay when they came home.
Brantley remembered those school days. Oddly enough, he’d been sandwiched between two sets of Walker twins. Braydon and Brendon—his uncle Curtis’s set—had been in the same grade as him while Leif and Lance—his uncle David’s set—a grade below. But all of his classes had been dotted with one or more cousins. That was what happened when you came from a big family and lived in a small town. And while he’d been surrounded by cousins, his closest friends hadn’t been related.
“Oh. My. God.”
All heads at the table turned, including Brantley’s.
Standing just a few feet away was none other than his best friend from back in the day, as though Brantley had conjured her with his thoughts.
With a smile, he was instantly on his feet. “What the hell’re you doin’ here?” he asked by way of greeting.
JJ went up on her toes, threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Someone cleared their throat, dragging a chuckle from him as he stepped back and turned to give the group his attention.
“Y’all, this is Jessie James, a.k.a. JJ.” He glanced at his longtime friend. “I’m sure you know a lot of these guys.” He pointed as he called out names. “Travis and his husband, Gage. Sawyer, Kaleb, Braydon, and Brendon. That there’s Ethan. Beside him his husband, Beau. That’s Zane, then CJ, Jaxson, Kaden, and Keegan.”
Not that an introduction was necessary because everyone knew everyone in Coyote Ridge. It was the way of small towns. And JJ had gone to the same schools as they all had, growing up with them the same as Brantley. Only difference, JJ had stuck around while Brantley’d opted to see the world on Uncle Sam’s dime.
Brantley’s eyes paused on the last guy at the table. “Last but not least, that’s Reese Tavoularis, no relation.”
And thank fuck for that, he thought. He didn’t know Reese, but he’d gone to school with Reese’s brother, Z. According to their brief conversation, Reese had started high school the year after Brantley graduated. However, he was all grown up now.
Reese tipped his head in greeting, then his eyes cut back to Brantley’s momentarily. They held for what felt like a lifetime but was no more than a couple of seconds.
Had this been any other man, Brantley would’ve considered his options for later. Unfortunately, Reese was straight as a fucking arrow, which meant there were no options. Nor would there be a later.
