I’ve always been the joke in this family. The one that gets poked fun at. The one nobody takes seriously.
“Rhett, you forgot your warm milk,” Jasper says as I approach. Beau makes some honking noise as he tries, and fails, to keep himself from bursting out laughing. He always has been the giddy, lighthearted one of us. Which is fucking wild considering he’s JTF2, Canada’s top special forces unit.
“No, no, no.” Beau gasps for air. “He’s coming up here because he wants the White Russian instead.”
I shake my head. The corners of my mouth tilt up, even though I’m working hard to keep them down. “You guys are such fucking losers.” I prop my hands on my hips and stare up at the ceiling where an ornate brass chandelier hangs, completing the upscale country vibe this place has taken on under new ownership.
“Shouldn’t talk to your future wife that way,” Jasper bites before snorting and barking out another laugh.
Their laughter is infectious, and I’m trying to not let it overtake me. I don’t want to find this funny. But if there was ever a person who could give me the giggles, it would be Beau. And right now, he is unhinged.
I peek down at Summer. Her wide, sparkling eyes looking up at me are downright disarming. She’s trying not to laugh, and I’m trying not to get a boner from staring at her mouth. It’s a fucking struggle for us both.
“Was this your idea?”
“No.” She huffs outs a laugh, her composure finally cracking as a pink stain spreads out over her cheeks. “Not even a little bit. I am an innocent bystander.”
I regard her with a raised brow, not entirely sure if I believe she wasn’t playing a part in this. She already seems to be amused by my suffering, so I’m not sure why she’d draw the line here.
Plus, the fact that I can’t stop staring at her gorgeous face makes me feel like she isn’t innocent in my frustration at all.
“Hey now,” Jasper interjects with his raspy tone before taking a big swig of his beer. “Don’t pick on Summer. The warm milk was my idea. That was more fun than I’ve had in ages.”
Beau slaps his knee and wheezes. “You should have seen your face!”
I shake my head and let out a chuckle that rumbles in my chest.
“I’m going to get you back for this,” I say, but my eyes dart back to Summer’s face. And then she nods, dropping my gaze for a moment as the shadows from her lashes fan across the apples of her cheeks. She looks almost shy, not smug at all.
Not what I expected.
With a deep sigh, I turn and kick Jasper’s boot. “Shove over, asshole.”
I flop down beside our childhood friend and feel immediately more at ease than I did at that other table—even with my lush-lipped babysitter princess here.
Then I reach forward and swipe the White Russian off the table in front of me and take a big swig of it as I throw an arm over the back of the couch.
“Fucking delicious,” I announce with a cocky grin. Beau giggles like a schoolgirl all over again. Idiot. I roll my eyes at him and then turn my attention to Summer as I take another sip of the milky disaster in my hand. She’s smiling at me now.
And as much as I hate to admit it, I like her eyes on me.
* * *
I thought a few drinks would provide me the pain relief I need to get a good sleep since that rough dismount last weekend, but I was wrong.
I’ve been lying here for the past two and a half hours trying to get comfortable. Failing. And then berating myself for taking such a stupid fall. I’ve been at this for over a decade. The bull didn’t pile drive me into the ground—no avoiding that—it was just a stupid landing.
And because I’m truthfully too old to still be doing what I’m doing, I don’t bounce back like I used to. I’m trying so hard not to live on painkillers—only one set of kidneys and all that—but I’ve been popping them like candy for the better part of my life. I just didn’t use to care.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I let out a groan and roll myself out of bed, wincing as I do. The wooden floorboards are cold against my feet as I pad across my bedroom and turn the door handle. In the hallway, I tiptoe like a child.
I feel like one, too, trying not to wake my dad up. Can’t say I ever imagined living with him at this age, but when I’m on the road for the better part of the year, maintaining my own house makes little sense.
Once I retire, I’ll build, just like my brothers have.
Once I retire.
That’s what I keep telling myself. That’s what I keep putting off. Because without a bull to get on every weekend, I have no idea who I’ll be. Or what I’ll do.