Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

GEMMA

Damnit.

Two of Gemma’s hives had split. Bees swarmed everywhere. She’d never used so much lemon grass essential oil in her life, but she was desperate. It was her worst nightmare. She’d spent years tending to them and if she lost them, it’d set her back too far. If she didn’t catch them, she’d lose her honey and wax business.

It had to happen on a Thursday of all days. She didn’t have time to be dealing with this. If her damn brother had come by when he said, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

When the honks sounded, she turned toward the door. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Gemma snatched her pink, over-sized flannel, and shrugged it over her shoulders as she raced through her house. It wasn’t her ideal outfit, but it was the Brew House. She didn’t have to get snazzy.

“I’m coming,” she called as she exited her house and trotted down the stairs. As she got to the bottom, her purse fell to the crook of her elbow and the strap got caught on the fancy wrought iron curl of the railing.

With her heart in her throat, she lurched back, kicking her leg up in the air to keep her balance with the unexpected resistance. Somehow, she didn’t fall flat on her ass. Turning, she freed herself from the banister and jogged toward Kylie’s Honda Civic.

Dropping herself into the back seat, she let out a heavy breath.

“Hot mess express coming through. Toot. Toot,” Kylie mused as Gemma shut the door.

“Sorry.” She turned her ire to Parker, sitting in the passenger seat. “My hives swarmed, and I spent the last hour and a half catching bees.”

“What does that have to do with me?” he asked incredulously.

He couldn’t be serious. “If you had shown up when you said, they wouldn’t have gotten so over crowded. I would’ve gotten the honey out. But I can’t because my extractor is still fucking broken.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t make me turn this car around,” Kylie hollered as she pulled out of the driveway.

Dean

Toby Keith’s Shoulda Been a Cowboy came through the speakers as Dean entered the local brewery. He hummed along and scanned the bar/restaurant for Parker.

Ah, there he was, waving his arm to get Dean’s attention.

Grinning, Dean strolled toward the table. For a Thursday, this place was pretty packed. Then again, there weren’t many places to hang out in Marshall. Most preferred to go to Asheville rather than his quiet, sleepy mountain town.

Taking a seat opposite his best friend, he groaned. The worst decision he ever made was turning thirty-five, for sure. His old injuries ached more in his thirties than they had in his twenties. Getting old sucked.

“I had to add more lumber to the order,” he commented as he looked over the menu.

“Didn’t trust my numbers?” Parker asked, feigning offense.

Shaking his head, Dean considered which beer he’d like. “Nah. Gemma tore the barn up, literally. She ripped out half a wall.”

Parker chuckled. “Yeah. She does that.”

“I considered tearing the whole thing down and building a new one.”

“Oh?” Parker lifted his brows in surprise. “For resale value or to stay?”

Dean shrugged.

Parker shook his head. “You’re really going to give it up?”

“I don’t know yet.” He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see the day my best friend would turn his back on the fillies.” He waggled his brows at his own innuendo.

The fake-ass buckle bunnies were the only thing he didn’t miss.

“I remember how you told me about that night with the twins.”

“They weren’t twins.” Dean rolled his eyes as his friend misremembered when he’d had a threesome in the first few months he was out on the circuit. He never should’ve shared that.

“In my fantasy, they were.”

“Why are you fantasizing about me? That’s weird.”

“Not you.” Parker waved a hand. “Me. It’s me and the twins. I just remember your story as inspiration.”

“It’s still weird.”

“What’s weird?” Parker’s eyes widen and his body stiffened from the woman’s question.

Dean smirked.

“Dean doesn’t think there should be a chocolate peanut butter stout beer,” Parker lied on the spot. Not bad.

“It’s really not.” Gemma approached the table. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Holy fucking hell.

Dean’s mouth went dry when he saw her. The shirt she wore beneath the over-sized purple plaid shirt tied at her hips barely contained her breasts. They definitely were about to spill out, and he was here for it.

Parker snapped his fingers to get Dean’s attention. Blushing, he realized he’d stared. When he turned his attention to his glaring best friend, he cleared his throat and dipped his chin.

“You remember Kylie? My fiancée?” Parker said, as he wrapped his hand around her tiny waist.

Dean didn’t, but it was probably best to pretend he did. “Good to see you.”

Her knowing smirk hinted she knew something, but he wasn’t sure what.

As Luke Bryan’s Country Girl (Shake it For Me) came on, Kylie’s face brightened. She reached for Gemma. “When Luke sings, we have to listen.”

“This isn’t a club.” Gemma giggled nervously.

The pink hue of Gemma’s cheeks made her that much more adorable. Damn. He needed to stop thinking about her that way. She was Parker’s little sister—clearly a don’t even look and don’t touch zone.

Kylie sang along to the song as she dragged Gemma to an open spot on the floor. Dean couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of the two women shaking their asses and dancing along to the song. He nodded his head and tapped his foot to the beat.

Unfortunately, he caught Parker’s seething stare when the server came to take his order.

“What?” He tried to laugh it off. “I like this song.”

Dean turned his attention to the person waiting for him to order. Doing his best to avoid his best friend’s eye, he ordered the seasonal beer and some chicken wings.