6. Tyler

I'd just flipped the last of four monstrous steaks on the grill in our backyard when Drew dropped into one of the custom Adirondack chairs he'd built and kicked his feet up on the matching footrest.

"Don't get too comfortable," I said, eying the way he was settling in. "This isn't a restaurant."

"If it was, I would only give it three stars. The service in this place leaves a lot to be desired."

I huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, well, so does the clientele."

"So, how did it go with Naomi?" he asked, eyeing me as he took a sip of his beer.

I rolled my neck from one side to the other before turning back to the steaks without answering.

"That good, huh?"

"She wants nothing to do with me," I admitted. "Came right out and said kissing me was a mistake."

"That's rough." He was quiet for a beat before adding. "Does that mean we can expect the bi-weekly walk-of-shame to start back up soon?"

I winced a little internally, remembering Naomi's ‘bartending whore' comment, and shot him a glare. "I didn't say I was giving up."

His eyebrows winged up. "But you always give up when things get tough. That's why you're our local one-hit wonder."

Ouch. "I do not quit when things get hard."

"You do when it comes to women and relationships."

Well... yeah. He had me there. After watching our parent's marriage fall apart when I was still in high school, and the hell Mom put Dad through with their divorce, I'd never been interested in complicating my life like that.

I made that abundantly clear to every woman I hooked up with, and I'd never once regretted it. Which was why this thing with Naomi was throwing me for a loop. Why the hell couldn't I get her out of my head?

Maybe if I'd just fucked her senseless that night, like we'd both wanted, things would be different.

I had barely processed the thought before I rejected it. Whatever this was, it wasn't about sex. At least, not just about sex. If all I needed was a roll in the hay, I could have that damn near any night I wanted.

No. The problem here was definitely Naomi, and the miserable, untouchable ache in my chest every time I thought of her. The fact that she hated me was just fate's way of twisting the knife.

"For the first time in my adult life, I don't know what to do with a woman."

Drew barked out a laugh. "This is not the first time. You've never known how to treat women."

"Big words coming from a man whose wife left him," I fired back, wishing I could wrench the words back out of the air the second I said them.

He glared at me as he took a long drink of his beer. Then he gave me a half shrug and looked down at the nearly empty bottle. "You make a good point."

"I don't, and that was a dick thing for me to say."

"Yeah, it was." He dragged himself up out of the chair. "But that doesn't mean you're wrong." He drained the rest of the bottle and motioned to the double doors leading into the house. "You want one?"

"Are you going to spit in it?"

"Maybe."

I eyed the steaks. "Fuck it. Do your worst."

He smiled at me. A real, genuine smile, the likes of which had become a rarity since Marina blew up his life. "One spit-flavored beer coming up."

Drew disappeared inside, and I tried to remember the last time I'd seen him happy. He'd put on a good show at Kira's wedding in Costa Rica, smiling and laughing at all the right moments, but even that hadn't been entirely real.

Marina left two months before Kira's wedding. He'd been less of a miserable ass when she was still around, but really, truly happy?

It had been a while.

That was one more reason why I'd vowed to stay single. The heartache hardly seemed like it was worth the trouble. I mean, all I had to do was look at him. Did I want to be in his shoes in a year? Or five years? Or ten?

Hard pass.

The door swung open, and he strolled out holding four beers and a bottle opener in his hands. Behind him, Brandon and West, came out with plates and utensils.

"Smells like dinner is ready," Brandon said.

"About time," West chimed in.

"Don't overcook mine," Drew warned, though there was a taunting note to his voice.

"Or mine," the other two added in unison.

I rolled my eyes and flipped them all the bird. "I know how to grill steaks, assholes." I grabbed one off the grill with the spatula tongs. "Who's first?"

West stepped forward, but Brandon elbowed him out of the way. "Age before beauty."

"In that case, Drew should have first dibs," I said, holding the steak over the grill but off the heat.

Drew waved me off. "It's not worth starting a riot. Let the pups go first."

West shot him a dirty look. "We're not pups. We are all full-grown Foxes up in this house."

"Who all still live together," he fired back. "Maybe that's why none of you have managed to find a woman."

The three of us younger siblings shared a look. It was a silent understanding that while we could point out that Andrew had been living with us since his life fell apart, we wouldn't. I'd already crossed that line earlier, and I still felt like shit about it.

"Take it," I said, dropping the first steak on Brandon's plate. I motioned to West. "Well, come on. Let's get the line moving. I'm starving."

When Drew stepped up, I set the biggest of the four steaks on his plate. "Age before beauty, right?"

He huffed out a bitter laugh. "West is too immature for a real relationship. Brandon avoids them because the Army can call his Reserve unit up at any time. But you? Your problem is that you're already in a serious relationship... with your car."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned.

"He might have a point," West said through a mouthful of meat. He swallowed hard and chased it with a swig of his beer. "When was the last time you let a woman drive your Impala?"

Never. She was mine, not community property. Not even my brother's got to take her out.

"Why don't you all just shut up and eat," I said, dropping into my customary spot at the outdoor table.

The three of them had the courtesy to let me get halfway through my steak and a quarter of the way through my beer before they started pelting me with questions about Naomi.

"If you aren't throwing in the towel, what's your plan?" West asked.

"I don't know." I'd been going over everything in my head since the moment I grudgingly stepped off her porch. "But whatever I do, I need to do it before she moves to her new location."

"What new location?" Brandon asked.

I sliced off another healthy chunk of steak. "She said she found a place across town. It's not like I got the address or anything."

He shook his head. "She doesn't have anything lined up yet."

I paused in the middle of chewing and glared at him. "Says who?"

"I heard the other two girls from the salon talking about it at the bar last night. They're worried about her."

"You didn't work last night," Drew said, eying him with suspicion.

"I was out at Maggie's."

West choked on the beer he'd been trying to drink. "You mean Magnolia's? The country place?"

Brandon tipped his bottle toward him. "Don't knock it ‘til you try it."

"No and thank you." West sat back in his chair with a disgusted look.

"You're just jealous because you have no rhythm." This was a clear manipulation on Brandon's part. If he played his cards right, he would have no problem goading West into going to Magnolia's with him the next time he went.

But I had bigger concerns. "Why are they worried?" They all turned to look at me like they didn't know what I was talking about, so I clarified. "Kate and Ellie from Harlowe's."

"Maybe because the lease is up in six weeks," West said, kicking his feet up on the table. Drew knocked them right back off with a swipe of his arm.

"What if we gave her an extension? A couple of months isn't going to ruin your plans, is it?" I asked, turning my attention to Drew.

He pressed his lips together the way he always did when he didn't want to say something. "We already have the work scheduled."

"So?" I shook my head. "Push it back."

My brothers all shared a look, but it was Brandon who said what they were all clearly thinking. "You know we had to pull favors to even get on Nik's schedule. All three of his crews are booked out through Spring."

"Fuck." I shoved my plate away, grabbed my beer, and drank the damned thing dry.

West reached out with his fork, stabbed the chunk of steak I'd abandoned, and dropped it on his own plate. "Sorry, bro. You snooze, you lose."

I didn't care about dinner. What I cared about was making sure we didn't ruin Naomi's future.