He deserved it. It was a shit pile. “It’s a project.”
Jason advised, “Light it on fire and start over.” Grady nodded in agreement in the background.
“Bring a match?”
Jason chuckled and turned back toward the Jeep. “Brought beer.”
“Good enough,” Mac said. “I cooked.” He jerked his head toward the cabin.
“He still loves us,” Jason crooned, smacking a hand to his heart.
“Fuck’s sake,” Mac grumbled, fighting a smile.
Grady grinned. “Food has always been your love language, Mac. We know when you feed us, it means you looove us.”
Mac ducked his head to hide his smile. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“What about the women around here?” Jason asked.
“I don’t feed them.”
Jason gave him a look. “Not what I meant.”
“Can’t complain,” Mac answered. “We’ll head up to the bar tonight.”
Grady eyed him. “Anyone in particular?”
Mac intentionally misunderstood him, rubbing the back of his neck. “Only one bar; small town.”
Grady ripped open the case of beer and pulled a couple out. Announcing, “Incoming!” he tossed the cans to Mac and Jason. “We’re raising one before we get into this shit. Brother, good to see you; tragic to see your home, but good to see you.”
Mac chuckled, cracking open the exploding beer to raise it toward his buddies. “Always good.” He meant it. These men were his lifeline.
Jason smashed his dripping can against Mac’s and murmured, “Brother.” He cast another glance to the cabin, repeating, “You’re a dumb motherfucker.”
Mac woke in the fugue left behind from frantic sex and alcohol. The night before had been a successful introduction of his buddies to life on the lake. Well, his version of life on the lake, and the ladies had not disappointed. Of course, when the three of them had walked into The Northern, he heard the proverbial needle scratch on vinyl. He knew he wasn’t hard to look at, but Jason was in a realm of his own, and coupled with his charm, the ladies were helpless. Grady was no less popular.
He didn’t recall how he got home, but he knew he had his buddies to thank; otherwise, god only knew where he’d have woken up this morning. He’d indulged too much last night—more than usual—because he knew his buddies had his six. But he’d gotten so messed up, he hadn’t had theirs.
He smelled breakfast, and another twinge of guilt panged him; food was his domain.
Rolling off his cot, he looked around, bleary-eyed, for a pair of boxers to slip into. He and his brothers had been through some shit; they’d seen each other’s balls enough to pick them out in a lineup, but this was breakfast. There was protocol.
“Hey,” Mac greeted as he ventured out of his room. The cabin was warm with the range lit up. Mac surmised the summer would be a bitch, considering how the one appliance heated the place.
Grady glanced at him from the stove and snickered. “You mean afternoon, soldier.”
“Fuck,” Mac said, shuffling over to the refrigerator.
Grady held out the spatula and pretended to balance himself on the floor. “Wait, can we both be on this side of the cabin at the same time?”
Mac chuckled as he pulled out a beer. He cracked open the can.
Grady eyed the can but didn’t say anything as he turned back to the bacon and eggs. “Jason is checking out the neighborhood.”
Mac walked over to the table and chairs and sat. “Nothing to see. An old couple lives next door with my dog.”
“Your dog? You have a dog? Why is it next door?”