No, he wasn’t, but age was just a number as far as Brantley was concerned. At thirty-five, fresh out of a seventeen-year stint in the Navy, Brantley felt as though he was starting over. A kid, right out of high school, without a clue what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Only, he was equipped with knowledge most people couldn’t fathom, a skill set that wouldn’t do much for him as a civilian but could likely make him a good living if he wanted to go the mercenary route. Plus a leg that ached when it rained and recurring headaches that ranged from irritating to debilitating.
At least his family had stopped asking him if he was all right.
“Why a teacher?” he inquired, wanting to keep them talking about her.
“Molding young minds,” she said simply, flashing another bright smile. “Imagine if there’d been some decent teachers around when you were in school. Maybe you wouldn’t be such a dummy.”
Brantley stopped, pinned her with a look. “A dummy? Really, sis?”
Bryn’s blue eyes flashed with amusement. “Yeah. Dummy. What’re you gonna do about it?”
Before he could grab her and toss her into the water, Bryn took off at a run. Brantley chuckled, then pursued, his bare feet sinking in the wet sand as he jogged behind her. Didn’t take long before he swept her off her feet and charged into the water, dumping her unceremoniously before he dove into the next wave. When he came up, Bryn was sputtering, tossing her hair out of her face, the long dark strands plastered to her head.
“I’m gonna kick your ass for that, Brantley Walker!”
“How many times have I heard that one?” he countered, wandering over and escorting her back to the beach, arm in arm.
“You just wait. When you least expect it”—she clapped her hands together, jerking on his arm—“bam! I’m gonna take you out.”
As usual, Bryn was laughing. Otherwise he would’ve been apologizing. Brantley couldn’t count how many times he’d said he was sorry over the years. To all of his sisters. Didn’t matter that Sadie, Tori, and Bryn were the oldest of the seven, there was no doubt they’d been harassed plenty by their younger brothers. Sometimes more than they deserved.
Redirecting them back to the house, Brantley threw an arm around Bryn’s shoulders, tugged her against his side, and planted a kiss on her head. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some coffee in me.”
“Fine. But you’re not goin’ back to bed.”
Nearly twelve hours later, the blazing Texas sun having finally taken a hiatus, Brantley was sitting on the third-floor deck, staring out over the water, wishing like hell he’d ignored Bryn’s order and caught a few hours of sleep. After an eventful day spent entirely down by the water, he had that rode-hard, put-up-wet feeling. Good thing he only had a few feet to wander before he could be facedown in a bed.
He had his nephew and nieces to thank for the endless hours near the water, and his brothers for the overindulgence tonight. It had been Trey’s idea, the fucker. His oldest brother had thought it would be wise to crack open a bottle of Jameson and play Who’s the idiot, a game they’d made up, where they recalled each other’s most asinine feats to date.
For whatever reason, they’d all ganged up on Brantley, proving with one story after another that he was the reigning champ of idiocy. Better yet, it wasn’t over. Trey was currently choking on a laugh as he attempted to retell their favorite story of them all.
“What was that guy’s name?” Trey clanked the ice in his glass, eyes bouncing to each of them.
“Danny,” Griffin offered. “Danny Musket.”
Brantley groaned. Never failed they’d bring this one up.
Trey snapped his fingers and pointed at Griff. “Yes! Danny Musket. What a loser. I was on duty at the time—”
“Off duty,” Brantley corrected. “And mall security doesn’t exactly make you a cop.”
“Yeah, well, Danny didn’t know that.”
No, he hadn’t. And Brantley remembered the look on the guy’s face when Trey’s mug had appeared in the driver’s-side window. Might as well have been the chief of police for as panicked as Danny got.
“Anyway,” Trey continued. “That night, I was headin’ home. Stopped in at E-Zs for a cup of coffee—“
“Pork rinds and Dr. Pepper,” Brantley corrected.
“—when what did I stumble upon?” Trey chuckled, clearly enjoying the memory. “There I was, minding my own business, strolling through the parking lot—”
“Checking out the beer delivery guy,” Brantley offered because it was the truth.
“—when something caught my attention. Rocking.” Another rumbling laugh. “That shitty old Ford of Danny’s was rocking on its axles.”
“It was a Toyota,” Brantley said with a huff. “And it was only a couple of years old.”
“Whatever. My story, my details.”
Brantley smiled, couldn’t help it. That was Trey for you.
