Page 54 of Falling for my Brother's Best Friend

Sixteen

Liam

Iarrive home to find Denver’s truck in the driveway. Looking at the bags of candles and incense in my passenger seat, I wonder how I’ll get those into the house without his curious eyes catching me. Then again, for all he knows, they’re groceries. It’s a foreign concept to him since I’m pretty sure he thinks food magically appears in the fridge. I don’t mind feeding my friend, but how we’re the same age and he has no drive to have his own space, I’ll never understand.

I get out of the car and pull out the bags. He said he was leaving today. I hope that’s still the case, because the things I have planned for my exorcism of Savannah Bailey, her brother would either try to join or call bullshit. All depends on his mood.

His music is loud and banging when I walk through the door, which means he’s in the shower or getting ready. This annoying ritual of his drives me to the barn most afternoons. Since he has the power to make his own hours as a bush pilot, he tends to only take later flights so he can sleep in. Lucky me. It should give me time to stash the bags somewhere though.

“Liam!” Denver yells, and his feet are barreling down the stairs like an elephant. No cat burglar future for him.

I open the pantry and toss in the bags. The crash of glass tells me I’m less one candle. Great.

“What’s up?” I slam the door as Denver stops, staring at me quizzically.

He points at the pantry door. “Do you have a chick there?”

“No.” I step away from the door, but not far enough away that I can’t block him if he goes to take a look.

“You look guilty.”

His hair is damp from a shower, and he’s shirtless, the various tattoos I’ve given him are on display.

“I’m not guilty. Is that completely healed?”

He looks down at his shoulder and runs his hand over the ink. “It’s still peeling a bit, but it’s close.”

I nod, happy to see there’s no redness around the ink. “You heading out?”

Now that he’s sufficiently distracted from the pantry, I fill up my water bottle from the fridge.

Denver slides up on the counter. “Let’s get back to your guilty look.”

I smile with my back to him. He’s quicker this time, which means he’s not wrapped up in his own life. How can he be? He doesn’t do shit except party. The guy could be making bank with his outdoor skills, but he sits on his ass most days.

“I’m not guilty.”

“Blonde, brunette, or redhead?” His eyes light up at the word redhead.

“There isn’t a girl in the pantry.” I lean against the counter, sipping my water.

“Here I thought you got your shit together and were finally gonna get some ass.”

“I’m not sure I understand your line of thinking.”

He jumps off the counter. “Because we’re out of sync. Before, you’d have known exactly what I meant, but I’m a lone wolf now. You and Rome have deserted me. At least he’s getting laid on the regular. You…” He points at me, walking toward the stairs, thank goodness. “I don’t get your new vow of celibacy.”

“When do you leave?”

He circles around at the bottom of the stairs. “In about five minutes. I just have to grab a shirt. We’re setting up camp tonight. Then I get to watch dumbass executives try to get themselves out of the wilderness with a piece of flint and a machete.” He twirls his finger in the air.

I laugh, relieved that I distracted him from talking about me.

“A hundred dollars says the ‘boss’ tries to slip me some cash to get them out sooner.”

“I thought you liked doing the excursions?”

“I like doing them for people who love the outdoors. People who look at a moose with awe. People who want to hike to the highest mountain just for the view and the satisfaction of making it. Not these self-entitled shitheads who give up trying to start a fire with two sticks because it hurts their hands.”

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