“Jesus.” I dropped my head back. “I’m not—”
“Don’t deny it. I won’t believe you anyway. Your secret’s safe with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have three women to satisfy.” Tucker waggled his brows, then jogged over to the ladies waiting for him.
Great. Tucker had figured out my secret, only he had the wrong brother in mind.
20
GARRETT
Lately I found myself having to make a concerted effort not to pay too much attention to Ramsey, which was saying something since I’d already had years of practice.
But twice since arriving at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner, I’d had to bite back a comment that shaded too far into sexual territory for public consumption, and then I’d had to pull a last-minute quick change and punch Ramsey in the shoulder rather than the squeeze I’d intended for his big bicep as I passed him in the kitchen while he was getting out silverware to set the table.
Ramsey wore his usual supremely amused smile during all this, but Houston kept giving me the side-eye and finally caught me by the arm when I was heading to the bathroom, pulling me into his old room instead. “Is something going on with Tucker?”
Tucker’s Thanksgiving plans had fallen through, and I’d taken pity on him and invited him to my parents’.
I blinked. I’d been expecting Houston to tell me I was being pitifully obvious around Ramsey. “With Tucker? What do you mean? Like me and Tucker?” I laughed.
“No, dumbass. I don’t know. Tucker and Ramsey?”
I blinked again. “Fuck no.” The very idea made me want to snarl.
“Tucker keeps looking at me.”
“Looking at you how?” I asked cautiously.
“I dunno. Weirdly. Like he’s watching for something. Waiting for something. Wait, does he know about you two? Does he think I’m pissed?”
“Oh. That. Um…” How to explain. Maybe simple was best. “It’s possible he thinks you and Ramsey are in a secret relationship.”
“He wha—”
Simple was not best. I slammed a hand over his mouth. “Jesus. Pipe down.”
“Why the fuck does he think that?” His jaw tightened when I hedged. “Garrett, why does he think that?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, so, the last time you were all out, he saw you and Rams talking…closely. Or something. And he got this crazy idea that you two are together.” Ramsey had told me about it the next day, and we’d shared a laugh. It seemed harmless enough, after all, and besides, that meant Tucker hadn’t noticed anything between us, which I deduced meant the rest of the team didn’t suspect anything either, and that was exactly according to plan, right? So, harmless.
Except maybe not, since he was now spending Thanksgiving with us.
“Ramsey didn’t think to correct him?”
“He was caught off guard. Or he misunderstood at first, and then Tucker said he wasn’t gonna say shit anyway, so he figured what did it matter? Took a little pressure off us, at least. Honestly, we both thought it was kinda funny. Tucker hasn’t brought it up again. We figured he let it go. He was pretty drunk that night anyway.”
Houston scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a laugh. “Jesus fuck, that’s awkward.”
“It wasn’t until just now.”
“Great, so I’m the straw man?”
“He’s not going to do anything with that information, I told you. He and Rams are tight, and he’d never out anyone.”
“And the two of you thought it was ‘funny’?”
I didn’t like the way Houston hung those air quotes. Looked a little too much like hooks. And then he smiled the smile I knew from growing up when he was about to lay down some big-brother fuckery.
“Houston.” I let a warning creep into my voice as his smile grew.
“Well, if he’s gonna keep staring, maybe I should give him something to watch.”
“Wait a second. Houston!” I snapped, but he’d already skirted past me, cackling as he walked back down the hallway.
Fuck.
“Want a little more?” Houston held the serving bowl of mashed potatoes over Ramsey’s plate, a solicitous smile on his face that Ramsey side-eyed before saying, “Sure, if you’re offering. I can also do it myself?”
“Nah, I gotcha.”
Ramsey had done a double take when Houston had pulled out a chair for him at the dining table when we’d sat down for dinner. Now he glanced over at me with growing suspicion in his expression. I hadn’t had time to warn him before Mom had called us all to dinner.
I cut a sharp glance at Tucker who, sure enough, was paying shrewd attention to their exchange. I saw the realization dawn in Ramsey’s eyes, and he hitched one shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.”
Houston piled more mashed potatoes on Ramsey’s plate and then shoved the bowl toward me and Tucker. “You two are on your own.”
Damn, was I ever.
“You were on fire against KC, Warner,” Dad said, cutting into a slice of turkey. “Think the Rush can hold Miami off next week?”