Page 26 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

“Thank you, we have reservations,” Brent says.

“Where?” Wyatt asks.

“I scored a chef’s table at Fazio’s. You know the one by the Portage Glacier?” He’s practically puffing out his chest in pride. Idiot.

“That’s cool. If you don’t look at the Yelp reviews.” I shrug, tossing back some of my beer. I have no idea what the Yelp reviews say, nor would I care, but guys like Brent care what people think. I guess that’s another way he and Savannah are similar.

“Whatever, Yelp sucks.” He sips his beer.

“I figured a man like you couldn’t really think for himself.”

Brent’s eyes zero in on my biceps for a split second before the legs of his chair skid along the floor and his hands press on the table to rise. Wyatt and I push off the counter.

“Here she is.” Brooklyn walks in with her arm out behind her, gesturing to Savannah.

I swallow the lump in my throat. Her hair is down and in waves instead of her usual stick-straight look. Her high heels only accentuate her long legs, and the tight dress she’s wearing ends too far up her thigh. Fuck Brent Jacobs.

“Savannah?” Brent asks as though he doesn’t know who she is.

He works one town over. Everyone knows Savannah Bailey. Her picture ends up in the newspaper for every charity event.

“Brent?”

They shake hands.

Asshole.

I’m not sure at what point all eyes turn in my direction, but they’re all zeroed in on me with a look that says, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Did I say that out loud?” I ask.

No one answers, but Savannah shakes her head. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

I look down and mentally kick myself in the balls because I forgot the crap shirt I was wearing. Like always, I recover quickly. “Jealous?”

“Come on, Savannah. Nice to meet you, Brooklyn. Beautiful home.” Just like the jack-off he is, Brent puts his hand on the small of Savannah’s back to escort her down the short hallway between the kitchen and foyer and doesn’t say goodbye to Wyatt or me.

“You too, Brent. Have fun, you guys.” Brooklyn follows them.

I decide it’s impolite of me to stay in the kitchen, so I set my half-empty beer on the counter and head toward the front door to say a proper goodbye as well. “I should go too.”

Savannah stops at the door with Brent. The idiot doesn’t even take the clue to open the door for her. Wanting to piss her off a little more, I slide by them and open the door for the two of them with a dramatic wave as though she’s the queen and I’m the noble attendant.

“Thanks,” she grinds out and steps onto the porch.

I take my time committing to memory how she looks.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Brent sneers, and I release the screen door. It hits the entitled fucker right in the nose. Whoops.

“Asshole,” he mumbles.

“Liam!” Savannah’s scathing gaze flies to mine.

I hold up my hands and cringe. “It slipped.”

Brent grabs his nose, cursing under his breath.

---