“Hey, Army, you around?”
We all turn at the sound of Brandon’s voice coming around the side of the house. I know Wyatt’s friends pretty well from spending time here with them each summer, and I like them all a lot. It’s my fault that they call Wyatt Army. The summer after our freshman year, I was making fun of the nickname, trying to get him to stop using it because I love his real name so much, and Brandon clung to it like it was honey and he was a bee. He and Tristan have been calling Wyatt Army ever since.
“Dude!” Wyatt leaps from his chair and embraces Brandon. Brandon’s our age, and he’s a really cool graphic designer and an amazing guitarist.
Delilah and I both stand to greet him, and then I see Tristan Brewer, Jesse Steele, and a really pretty girl I don’t know come around the corner of the house. I hate the way my eyes shift to Wyatt to see if he notices her. His smile tells me he does. I shouldn’t care if he thinks she’s pretty. She is pretty. I remind myself that Wyatt’s not my boyfriend. I didn’t realize until this very second that this has become a familiar mantra over the last four years. I’ve stifled my attraction to him at least that long. And it’s crazy because he will never be my boyfriend, so I need to get over him. I’m not his type. He doesn’t commit. He doesn’t want me in that way. I have more reasons why we’ll never be a couple than I care to rattle off at the moment, the least of which is that Wyatt doesn’t even know what the word couple means. In an effort to distract myself, I hug tall, dark, and handsome Tristan.
I feel like I’m living on distractions lately.
“Cass. I should have known you’d be here.” Tristan pulls back, holding me by the shoulders, and rolls his soft brown eyes down my minidress. “Wow, you look gorgeous, hon.”
I hear Brandon telling Wyatt and Delilah he’s sorry about their loss, and my heart aches a little more.
“Thanks. So do you.” I squeeze Tristan’s biceps. “Have you been working out?” Out of the corner of my eyes I notice Brandon introducing Delilah and Wyatt to the girl. She’s got blond hair, blonder than Delilah’s and longer. It hangs in long golden streams to the curve of her butt.
“Have to,” Tristan says. “Guys around here aren’t into fleshy bodies, if you know what I mean.” He winks, and I tousle his dark hair. Tristan is about Wyatt’s height with a body built for hard work and a heart big enough to save the world. I’m convinced that if he ever tried to do something other than bartending, he could do any number of things to help others. He’s a great listener, and he always puts others before himself. He could take part in a Big Brother program, go to school for social work, or become a police officer. There are so many things he could do, but he seems content with bartending.
“Brooke, you made it.” Jesse waves to her as she climbs the stairs to the deck. Brooke’s long dark hair hangs loosely over one shoulder. She’s carrying two Pepe’s Pizza boxes, which Tristan takes from her and sets on the table.
“Hi. Sorry I’m so late.” She hugs Delilah. “Hi, babe. Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah. Pretty much, anyway.” Delilah steps aside as Wyatt leans in to hug Brooke.
“Hey, Brooke. Good to see you.” Wyatt kisses her cheek.
“How are you holding up, Wyatt? I’m so sorry about your parents.”
“We’re doing as well as can be expected.” Wyatt shoves his hand in his pocket, and I know he’s putting on a brave face. I can tell by the way his eyes are darting around the deck.
“I’m here if you guys need me, so don’t be afraid to ask. Delilah, if you want to talk, you’ve got my number.” Brooke touches Wyatt’s arm. “You too, Wyatt. Whatever you guys need, I’m here.”
She turns to talk to Delilah, and Jesse sets down the paper bag he’s carrying and hugs me tight.
“Cassidy, I knew you’d come with Wyatt.” Jesse’s the epitome of what I always thought a biker would look like, because he is one. He has three motorcycles, lots of tattoos, and his brown hair almost reaches his shoulders. He has a mustache and keeps a short, well-groomed beard. But he doesn’t look like a greasy biker. His hair is always brushed back away from his face, and he’s got the warmest eyes that totally conflict with his rough, hard-bodied image.
“Of course I’m here. Where’s Brent?” Jesse’s twin brother, Brent, plays in Brandon’s band. I know Jesse is running the Taproom since the summer manager quit, but with his recent purchase of his own restaurant, I wonder how long Jesse plans to help out now that Wyatt’s father is gone.
“He’s on a date. Where else?” He hugs me again, glances at Wyatt, then reaches for Delilah. “Delly, come over here.”
“Jesse, I’ve missed you.” Delilah remains in his strong arms for a long time, like she needed his comfort really badly. I noticed last year how close she was with Jesse and Brooke. She spent a lot of time hanging out at Brooke’s café, and whenever Jesse was around, they’d talk privately for long periods of time.
I hear Jesse asking how she’s doing and telling her he’s there if she needs him. The tenderness in his voice tells me how sincere he is. I walk away to give them privacy.
Wyatt, Brandon, Tristan, and the girl are sitting on the steps that lead to the beach. I take my wine and contemplate where to sit. The four of them are sitting shoulder to shoulder. Normally, I’d push through them and sit in front of Wyatt, but I don’t like the jealousy pooling in my stomach about him and that girl. I hate this feeling. I was never jealous of Kyle and other girls, and now I know I should have been. Leave it to my stupid heart to be confused. I stand behind them on the top step and tighten my grip on the wineglass.
“Get down here, girlfriend.” Tristan scoots over and pats the step in front of him. I hate that I wish it were Wyatt doing it.
I sit sideways on the step in front of Tristan so I can see Wyatt and the girl. Tristan rests his hand on my shoulder. They’re talking about college, and it sounds like she knows Brandon from school. I realize I didn’t actually say hello to Brandon yet and tap his knee.
“I was wondering when you’d get around to giving me my hug.” Brandon reaches for me and squeezes me tight in his long, sinewy arms. He’s as tall as Tristan and Wyatt, but much leaner. He reminds me of a starving artist. He actually could be one, I realize, because other than playing in Brent’s band and doing some graphic design work on the side, I don’t think he works.
“How long are you here for?” Brandon asks.
Wyatt glances at me as I sit back down in front of Tristan. “I’m not sure. I guess however long Wyatt wants me to stay.” It’s a barb, and I feel guilty after I say it, because I said it with an infliction that any girl would read as there being something between me and Wyatt, when there’s not.
The girl looks at me and smiles. Wow. Her smile lights up her whole face, and she’s even prettier.
“Hi. I’m Ashley.”
“Hi. I’m Cassidy.”
“Oh, you have wine?” she gushes. “I’d rather have wine. Do you mind if I have some?”
She says this without so much as a hint of faking a damsel in distress wanting Wyatt to cater to her.
“I’ll get you a glass,” I say in an effort to rein in my bitchy jealous claws. I step between Tristan and Brandon as Jesse, Brooke, and Delilah join us. Jesse takes my hand and pulls me up the last step, and then the three of them walk down to a lower step. I go inside and fill a glass with wine, trying not to peek outside. Ugh! I hate this feeling.
When I bring her the glass, she smiles that gorgeous smile again. “Thanks so much, Cassidy.” She moves toward Brandon and allows me to step between her and Wyatt. Wyatt grabs my calf, nearly sending me tumbling down the steps. He catches me by my hips, eases me down to sit on the step in front of him, and rests his hand on my shoulder.
I like his touch way too much to try to decipher why he did it. It’s not like he gets jealous, especially of guys around me. He’s protective, but he’s never been jealous.
Tristan slips off his flip-flops and puts his toes over mine. He’s such a lovable dork. H
is dark hair is short on the sides and spiky on top.
I feel Wyatt’s hand tighten on my shoulder, which is weird, considering Tristan is gay. The truth is, Tristan is anything but a dork. He’s six two, solid muscle, and handsome as the ocean is blue, but I have no idea why Wyatt is acting possessive of me tonight.
Tristan’s lips quirk up in a coy smile, and he leans across Brandon’s lap to get closer to me. “How am I going to catch up with you sitting over there?”
“While you’re down there,” Brandon says to Tristan. He lifts his eyebrows in quick succession, and I turn away.
“You’re a pig.” Ashley smacks Brandon on the back.
Brandon puts his arm around her. “Aw, babe, did I make you jealous?” He points to his crotch. “Have at it.”
Delilah and I share an eye roll. Brandon sleeps with everyone and anyone. Guys, girls, both at the same time. I don’t really care who he sleeps with, but I worry that he’ll be one of those forty-year-old guys who hang out in bars trying to pick up twenty-somethings and will end up alone and lonely.
Tristan moves to the step I’m sitting on and puts his feet between mine, then reaches for my free hand. “Are you still dating Kyle?”
I cringe inside, and the smile I was sporting falls flat. I see Tristan’s eyes shoot to Wyatt, and I glance up. Wyatt’s shaking his head and giving Tristan a dark look that clearly tells him not to go there.
Tristan returns his attention to me. “Aw, I’m sorry. Guys can be real dicks.”
“No kidding.” I down my wine.
“I took care of him,” Wyatt says as he runs his hand through my hair, which makes my entire body tingle in a way it shouldn’t. “Now it’s up to Cassidy to get him to stop texting her.” Wyatt moves his hand away, and I miss it instantly. I hate that I miss it, but I tell myself that he’s my best friend, so it’s okay to miss it.
Maybe just not so much.
“Sorry about your breakup,” Ashley says.
“Thanks.” Does she have to be so nice?
“Hey, why don’t we hit the Taproom tomorrow night and we’ll find you a new guy. Or even better, I’ll take a hit for the team,” Brandon offers with a coy smile.
“Dude, back off. She just broke up a week ago.” Wyatt presses his knee against my arm, and I’m pretty sure it’s by accident, but my whole body warms.
I roll my eyes at Brandon and feel like I should move away from Wyatt until I can figure out why I’m suddenly analyzing everything he does. It bothers me that I’m analyzing him. Ugh. I push to my feet, and suddenly I want to be very, very drunk and forget how to think.
“The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one,” Brandon quips.
Wyatt punches his arm.
“There might be some truth to that statement,” I joke, but the look in Wyatt’s eyes tell me he doesn’t think it’s funny. “Anyone up for shots?” I push my way past Brandon and escape toward the kitchen.
“Shots?” Wyatt follows me up to the deck and into the kitchen, ahead of the others, who are making comments about who’s going to go down first.
“Shots?” Wyatt asks again.
I shrug. I reach into the cabinet and grab a few shot glasses, and when I turn to go outside, he grabs my arm and searches my eyes. My heart stops at the way he’s staring at me, like I’ve done something wrong.
“What?” I ask.
“You okay?” He eyes the glasses.
Okay, so I’m not a big drinker, and for me to suggest we do shots is a little out of the ordinary, but if ever there was a time that I needed to drink, it’s now. And I need to drink a lot, because my heart started racing again from being so close to Wyatt, and heat’s running through my veins.
“Yeah, fine.” I take a step toward the door, and he holds me too tight to move forward. “Wyatt, are you okay?” I feel my eyes widen, wondering what’s up his butt at this point.
He narrows his eyes, and I know he wants to say something about the joke I made to Brandon. I can see it in his eyes and in the way he’s clenching his teeth like he’s deciding if he should. Then the look in his eyes turns smoldering hot and my entire body warms from my head to my toes and all the best places in between. I can’t tear my eyes from his. Delilah and Ashley come inside and reach for a few of the glasses to help me carry them. Wyatt’s still holding my arm, and I can’t look away from his steamy gaze.
“I have to warn you guys, I’m a total lightweight,” Ashley says.
“Me too,” Delilah admits. “We’ll hold each other’s hair back when we puke.”
“Hey,” Jesse says as he comes inside. “No puking tonight, girls. Let’s try to be a little responsible.” He’s the oldest in the group and is always looking out for Wyatt and his friends.
“Buzzkill.” Brandon grabs a bottle of rum and carries it outside.
“Army, can you grab the Tabasco and cinnamon schnapps?” Tristan calls from the doorway.
Wyatt finally releases my arm, but he holds my gaze. I’m relieved, because if he held me much longer I might have given in to the urge to press my lips to his and taste what I’ve dreamed about for so long—the heat of his touch.
“I’m on it,” Wyatt answers, his eyes still pinning me to the floor.
Delilah takes my arm and drags me out to the deck. I should thank her for getting me outside, where fresh air fills my lungs and starts to kick my brain into gear again, but my body is still humming with lust for her smoking-hot brother.
Brandon turns on the stereo, and we gather around the table on the deck. Brooke puts a hand on Delilah’s shoulder and leans in close.
“Don’t let these guys make you drink too much, Dee.”
“Don’t worry. I learned my lesson when I was fifteen. Drank way too much beer and puked all night. Wyatt told Mom I ate bad seafood at our friend’s house.”
“Yeah, I don’t drink much either,” Brooke says. “And I’m not drinking at all tonight. I have to work early tomorrow morning. You should stop by when you have time.”
“I will, thanks,” Delilah says.
Jesse leans on the table and slides a narrow-eyed stare over each of us, bringing all chatter to an abrupt halt. He looks ominous when his eyebrows do that dip-down thing, and when he taps his index finger on the table he looks even more threatening. I know Jesse would never hurt any one of us. On the contrary, he’s like an older brother to everyone. But this particular stare still rattles me.
“Keys. Now.” Jesse eyes Tristan, who tosses his keys onto the table, and then he stares at Brandon.
“Come on, man.” Brandon crosses his arms.
Jesse lowers his voice. “If you’re going to do shots, you’re going to give me your keys, Brandon. Otherwise, you can be damn sure that not an ounce of that alcohol is touching your lips.”
Brandon holds up his beer bottle and takes a sip, and then he shoves his hand in his pocket and tosses his keys on the table, holding Jesse’s stare the whole time. “You’ll let me drink beer and drive but not do shots? That’s some strange thinking, dude.”
Jesse swipes the keys from the table and smiles. “Who says I would have let you drive after drinking beer? I just didn’t feel the need to swipe your keys because of one beer, but at two, you’re damn right I’d have taken them. I’m not letting any of you take chances with your lives.”
Brandon scoffs. “You’re not at the bar, Jesse.”
“No shit, Sherlock. But you’re my friends.” Jesse pats him on the back, and Brandon tries to suppress a smile. It’s obvious this feather ruffling is common between them, because neither seems upset.
“What about Ashley’s keys?” Delilah asks.
“Oh, Brandon drove me over.” Ashley glances at Wyatt, then at Delilah. “He talks about you guys all the time, so I wanted to meet you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Delilah smiles. “Thanks, Brandon. I’m glad you brought her along.”
“We girls tend to be outnumbered—don’t we, Delilah?” Brooke winks at her.
“Yes, but we
’re catching up,” Delilah answers.
Tristan rubs his hands together and begins mixing shots with the precision of the practiced bartender he is. “Who’s ready for a fireball?”
I’m standing across from Wyatt, who is standing between Ashley and Delilah. Jesse, standing on Ashley’s other side, puts his arm around her shoulder. “Ash, don’t overdo it. You don’t have to keep up with Brandon.”
“She can hold her own,” Brandon says, which makes me wonder if Ashley is with him, as in really with him tonight.
“I’ll be fine,” Ashley says.
We all reach for our shot glasses.
“To my parents.” Wyatt holds up his glass.
I’m not sure why this surprises me, but it does. It makes me realize he’s thinking about them even though he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I wish he would talk to me about it. I’m not sure why his shutting me out bothers me more now than it did earlier in the day, but it does.
We down our drinks. My mouth is all tingly, and the shot burns all the way down my throat and tastes like cinnamon. It’s a wonderful mix of pleasure and pain and is exactly the escape I need. Ah, cinnaburn.
“Nice,” Wyatt says as he sets his glass back down. “Another five or six and I’ll be feeling just fine.”
“Sometimes it’s weird to watch you guys drink. I feel like I should tell you not to drink too much, but I also don’t want to ruin your fun.” Brooke looks at Jesse. They’re the closest in age, and I know she wonders if he feels the same way.
“All we can do is keep them safe,” Jesse assures her. “We were their age once.” He winks at her, and it makes me wonder if they’ve ever hooked up.
Catching Cassidy Page 7