“Fred. German shepherd. I sort of borrow him.”
Grady twisted his face. “Who names their dog Fred?”
“Old people,” Mac responded, lifting the beer.
“How’d you borrow him?”
Mac smiled. “They left him alone; we bonded. I’m teaching him new skills.”
“That’s wrong.” Grady chuckled, plating the food.
“Fred needs attention. I give it to him.”
The cabin shook as footsteps pounded up the porch. Both Mac and Grady turned their eyes overhead with a shared expectation for the roof to cave in. Jason strolled through the screen door as Grady cursed, shaking his head at the unstable environment. Mac grinned.
“What?” Jason demanded, looking around, his gaze landing on the beer, too. His golden boy body was glistening with sweat in his tank and running shorts despite what Mac suspected was a mild day.
Mac answered, “I might have some structural issues.”
Jason considered the two of them before asking, “You’re just now coming to that conclusion?”
Mac chuckled.
Jason pressed, “Ever hear the saying that a man’s home is a reflection of himself?”
Mac flicked a hard look toward his friend, his beer paused midway. He said in a low, warning tone, “Careful.” He completed the path and drank deeply.
Jason stared back, hands on hips, looking like a god, uncowed. “Before we leave,brother.”
Mac glowered. After a few tense seconds, he twisted his lips in a forced smile. “You’re too pretty to get mad at.”
Grady brought the plates to the table, the three eyeing each other for a few moments before concentrating on eating. Mac eventually grumbled appreciation for the meal, and Grady winked back.
Grady asked around his mouthful of eggs, “Are we barbecuing tonight or the bar?”
Mac shrugged. “Could do both.”
Jason shifted in his chair. “If I ditch out, will that be okay?”
Two sets of eyes swung to him in question. Mac’s burned a little hotter, wondering if it came with a lecture on sobriety and self-care. “What’s going on in your head?”
Jason’s eyes lit up. “I think I found something that interests me more.”
Mac and Grady exchanged confused looks before looking back at Jason.
“Are you certain there’s nothing that interests you closer to home?” Jason asked skeptically.
Mac frowned. “No. Why?”
“I saw her for only a few seconds, out at her mailbox—just a wave as I ran by—but…” Jason wagged his brows. “I want to run by her again.”
“How far did you run?”
Jason twisted, pointing toward the bathroom. “She’d have to be right there; that’d have to be her drive, too, right?”
Mac choked on his eggs. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? Do you have heatstroke?”
Jason sat back, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about? What the fuck’s wrong withyou? If you’ve been keeping her a secret for a reason—”