Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Brooks

"Brooks?" My grandmother prompted, possibly not for the first time. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired." I took a big swallow of my Americano from Just The Sip, willing the caffeine to do its job.

All-Americano Alpha, my mind reminded me in Danny's voice.

The barista said the drink suited me. I'd never considered myself to be the alpha-type despite my larger size, but hearing the way Skylar's asshole ex talked to him had brought it out in me. I'd wanted to reach through the phone and tear him apart limb by limb.

Grandma clucked in concern. "You work too hard."

I really was tired, because normally I knew not to give Grandma any ammunition for her worry. She hated the thought that she was burdening my life.

"It's not because of work." I hitched on a tired smile. "I didn't sleep that well."

"Life is all about balance," my grandmother said.

"I sure don't got much balance!" John called from a recliner set a few feet away.

My grandmother chuckled. "No, not that kind of balance! And mind your own beeswax. I'm talking to my grandson."

"You mean lecturing your grandson," he shot back.

Grandma tutted and shook her head. "There's no privacy around here. Everyone's a snoop, and who can blame them? We've gotta spice up life somehow."

"I thought you did that by competing for one of the few eligible bachelors on the grounds," I joked.

"That too." She let out a tinkling laugh. "But what about you, Brooks?"

"Well, I'm an eligible bachelor, but I don't know that I'd be mature enough for the women here."

"Oh, you! That's not what I meant."

I grinned. "My mistake."

"Stop trying to distract me," she scolded. "Life is about balance, Brooks."

"I know."

"When something is out of balance," she barreled on, "it will affect your body. For example, you might have trouble sleeping. Or you might begin to feel rundown and mentally exhausted. Working so much, with so little personal time, isn't healthy."

This wasn't a new lecture, by any means. Grandma meant well, but I really had no choice but to work as much as I did.

"I'm here now." I set my coffee cup on a side table and leaned forward to pat Grandma's knee. "I'm enjoying some personal time with my favorite person."

"Yes, you are," she said with a small smile. "Your visits are the highlight of my day." She paused, and I knew a but was coming. "But when's the last time you went on a date? I want you to live for you , Brooks."

Last night popped into my head, and strangely, it wasn't the brunette who'd hit on me that first came to mind, but my evening with Skylar. Ironically, it was the closest I'd come to a date in three years.

But that was a ridiculous thought. It wasn't a date.

For one thing, I didn't date men. For another, Skylar had given no indication he wanted anything more than a friend.

He was objectively attractive. I could see that, even if I wasn't into men, but…

Not the time to delve into those thoughts.

I focused on reassuring Grandma. "I hung out with friends just last night. I lied about why I'm tired, okay? I stayed out late, drank too much, and I'm a little hungover."

She gave a delighted laugh. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!"

I smirked. "You know, most grandmothers wouldn't be quite so happy their grandson had too much to drink."

She waved a hand. "I'm not like other grandmothers, and you're certainly not like other grandkids. You carry so much weight on your shoulders."

"Good thing I've got broad shoulders. Besides, working at a bar isn't such a hardship. I get to socialize every night. Sometimes, I even flirt." I wiggled my eyebrows.

"But do you form a real connection or just hook up for quickies?"

" Quickies? Grandma, you're scandalizing me!"

"Be serious," she chided.

"I'm not really the dating type." At her pursed lips, I added, "But if I meet someone special, I promise to make time for them, okay?"

"Well, all right. I guess that's the best we can do for now, hm? But you're not getting any younger."

"Tough crowd today."

She thankfully changed the subject to her physical therapy and the possibility she'd be upgraded from a walker to a sturdy cane.

Grandma looked good. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright, her mind sharp. She hadn't been in such good shape when she moved into the assisted-living center. A healthier diet, physical therapy, and an aide for household tasks like cooking and laundry had done wonders for her.

Moving her here was the right call, even if it's expensive as hell.

"I should head out. The pub will open soon."

She nodded. "I sure hope the owners appreciate having such a dedicated manager."

I brushed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm sure they do."

Later that night, I mixed and poured drinks while one of those owners watched from his regular spot at the bar. Then the next night, and the next, I did the same.

Skylar seemed to be doing better since his nasty ex rattled him. He told me he was screening all calls through voicemail, but no more dodgy ones had come in.

I was glad to hear it. But ever since that night, something had changed—at least for me.

I became hyperaware of my body's movements when Skylar's gaze followed me. My fingers wrapping around the bottle of rum, my forearms flexing when I braced my weight on the bar, my ass tightening when I bent over to pick up the glass I'd dropped. Because damn it, I'd suddenly gotten clumsy.

"Don't cut yourself," Skylar said, his voice a bit closer.

I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning in over the bar, brow creased with concern.

"Don't worry, I'm a pro."

I used a rag to pick up the largest glass shards to avoid any cuts, then a hand broom with a dustpan to sweep up the rest.

Of course, a pro wouldn't drop the damn glass in the first place. I was fumbling like a teenager with a crush, and I didn't know what to do with the feeling.

I was not attracted to men. Heck, I wasn't even this nervous around gorgeous women I wanted to fuck. So, why was Skylar Addison, who was very male and not even remotely a hookup option—despite being pretty—getting under my skin?

Fisher and his friends came into the bar, and I seized an excuse to distract myself. The Rusty Hook was moderately busy, but everyone at the bar had mostly full drinks, so I filled a pitcher with beer and grabbed a handful of glasses.

Skylar watched from his seat at the bar, making me wonder if I should have invited him over, but that would defeat the purpose of running away.

"Hey, guys." I plonked down the pitcher and started handing out glasses. "Didn't think I'd see you in here tonight."

Fisher grimaced. "Yeah. My plans fell through."

Sawyer poured a beer. "I've got to work soon. Just gonna grab a bite first. I'd rather eat Mom's cooking here than make a PB&J or some shit."

"And I've got no life," Poppy said with a shrug. She never seemed particularly bothered by it. I hadn't known her to ever date anyone, or even to express romantic interest, which was probably good for the sanity of the friend group.

Even Cash, who fucked almost anything that moved, had been smart enough to keep it in his pants with our friends. But maybe that was more because of their restraint than his.

"This is my life," Cash joked. "Gotta make the most of this young hot body while it lasts."

I rolled my eyes. "I think you'd find better prospects in Shallow Beach."

"It's a hassle to go over there," he said. Then glanced at Sawyer, "Unless you wanna—"

"No can do," Sawyer said. "The booze cruise is for paying passengers."

"Killjoy."

"Besides, I don't want you trolling my bachelorette party tonight for a hookup."

"I wouldn't do that." Cash sounded surprisingly offended. "Those women get sloppy drunk from what I've seen, and I prefer to hook up with people who can appreciate all the ways I'm going to blow their minds."

"You're such a manslut," Poppy said with a laugh.

"And proud of it." Cash's gaze skated past me toward the bar. "Speaking of hot prospects, you should invite Skylar to join us."

"Oh, yeah, I didn't see him," Poppy said. "Ask him over."

"I'll ask, but he likes hanging with me at the bar."

"Well, if he won't come over here, I'll just go say hi." Cash wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe he'd prefer a little one-on-one action."

I clapped a hand to his shoulder when he started to rise. "Just keep your ass in that seat."

Poppy's eyes rounded in surprise, and Sawyer looked as if he had questions burning on his tongue. Fisher barely noticed, though, too busy frowning down at his phone.

I cleared my throat. "Sorry, it's just… Skylar doesn't need that kind of attention."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Okay." He gave me a dubious look. "I guess you know him best."

Fisher pocketed his phone. "I gotta go. I have to finish a paper this weekend."

Fisher was enrolled in business school, but he took most of his classes online, so it was easy to forget he was a college student as well as a full-time attendant at Bait & Swallow, the dockside gas station and lake supply store that his father owned.

"No rest for the wicked, huh?"

"Nope." He stood. "Oh, Mom and Dad want you to come by for family dinner."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Soon, Brooks. They want to see you more often."

I winced. "Okay, yeah. I'll try."

Uncle Boone and Aunt Melinda had reached out to me when I moved to Swallow Cove as a young teen, but my parents hadn't been close to them, and they were basically strangers to me. Over time, I'd started to think of them as family—especially Fisher—but I still felt like an intruder when I joined them for dinner. It mostly consisted of awkward small talk and uncomfortable updates about my alcoholic mother.

But after Grandma, they were really all I had. I should make more effort, and I knew it.

"I should go put in that order of nachos," I said, pushing back from the table. I didn't want to leave Skylar on his own too long, or he really would think I'd abandoned him.

Sawyer followed me. "Hey, Brooks, wait up."

I paused midway across the floor. "What's up? I should get back to work."

"I know. Just…" He lowered his voice. "What is going on with you and Skylar Addison?"

I tensed. "I don't know what you mean."

He gave me a flat look. "He's an owner of the pub, and I thought you didn't want him around, but then you bring him to the cook-out? You seem…different with him."

Different? I was afraid to ask what he meant. Afraid to examine the thought too closely.

"The guy's alone here. He seemed like he could use some friends. That's all."

"We all like him," he said. "But you seemed a little jealous back there with Cash."

I groaned, knowing he was right. "You know what Cash can be like."

"Eh, Cash puts up a front. You know that. He's not really an asshole. He gets around, sure, but you know those tourists want a vacation fling to remember. He wouldn't pressure anyone."

"I know." I sighed. "I'm just…protective of Skylar. For reasons I can't really explain to you."

Unlike most of my other friends, who'd immediately want to know my reasons, Sawyer accepted my non-explanation. "All right, fair enough. You should get back to the bar."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who stopped me."

"Yeah, but now Skylar is back there trying to do your job for you."

" What ?" I whirled, and sure enough, Skylar was pulling a beer from the tap—and badly. "Gotta go."

"Yep."

I raced toward the bar and pushed through the swinging door. "Hey, don't forget my nachos!"

I passed by the order window, blurting out the app request without pausing.

"What are you doing?" I demanded as Skylar set a beer in front of a customer. "You're not a bartender."

Skylar turned. "I was just trying to help."

I eyed the beer, which was half foam, and smirked. "You can't pull a beer for shit."

Skylar sounded embarrassed. "I know. It was stupid to try. I'm sorry."

He took a step to the right, toward the bar's exit door, but I stood too close. His body brushed against mine, waking nerves in my chest and thighs.

"Wait, stop," I said.

He stilled, gaze flicking to mine. For a long moment, I couldn't breathe. Only what I saw in those eyes, shadows and worry, stopped me from pulling him against me to feel more of that tingling warmth.

I forced myself to take a step back. To give him space.

"Thanks for trying to help," I said. "I can teach you to pull a beer, if you want."

"Yeah?" His eyes lightened. A smile stretched his pretty lips. And damn, I really did think they were pretty, didn't I? Pretty, kissable lips.

I swallowed hard and reached for his wrist, guiding his hand toward the tap. "Here, let me show you."

"Okay."

His voice sounded breathy, which was doing nothing for the heat that was rushing through me. Then his long fingers wrapped around the tap, and that was even worse. Because it was so easy to imagine them wrapping around something else.

"Pick up a pint glass," I instructed, my voice a little hoarse.

Skylar did as I asked, and I wrapped my left hand around his, guiding the glass to the right angle. With my right hand, I helped him pull the tap.

Together, we watched the amber beer spill into the glass. When it was two-thirds full, I nudged Skylar into straightening it, then eased off the tap.

"Perfect head," I murmured.

Skylar turned his head to stare at me. "Wh-what?"

"The foam," I said, fighting a laugh. "It's called head."

"Oh." His cheeks turned pink. "I knew that."

My body still bracketed his, little more than an inch of space between us. What would it be like to close that gap and really feel him?

Skylar tensed and scooted away. "Uh, thanks for the lesson, but I should let you work, right?"

"Right," I said, then added reluctantly, "My friends were asking if you wanted to join them."

"Really?" He sounded surprised. "They were probably just being nice."

"They're always nice, but yeah, they meant it. Go, if you want. Have some fun."

He nodded hesitantly. "Okay, maybe just for a minute…"

I watched him cross the room and pull out a chair to sit beside Cash, fighting the urge to call him back. Then I glanced to the side, startled to see Sawyer standing at the end of the bar, waiting for his nachos.

But also watching me.

When our gazes met, he raised an eyebrow.

He didn't have to say anything. It was all right there on his face.

Sawyer was calling me on my bullshit.

I officially had my first man crush.