Page 12 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

And Kendall along with it.

Her hands went wide, one grabbing the oh-shit handle, but the other? I watched it move through the air as if in slow motion, only for it to land on my thigh.

Thank fuck I’d worn shorts.

Her skin against mine, she seared me then, just like a farmer might burn his brand into young calves. When I was a teenager, my dick felt like this unpredictable beast that lived in my pants, rousing at the worst times, but never more than when I was near Kendall. To discover that nothing had changed drove the breath out of my lungs as my eyes snapped up to meet hers.

Her touching me, feeling her so damn close… Her lips were only a small lean in away, and the movement of the car felt like they drew them nearer with each bump. I stared into her eyes, seeing all the shades of brown, chocolate, deep mocha—depths I wanted to drop down into. Her brows creased, just a tiny little line my fingers itched to smooth away, but instead I smiled, hoping she would too.

“Are you going to stop staring?”

Nope, the frown was more pronounced now, getting deeper by the second.

“Didn’t realise I was.”

She snatched her hand away then, flexing her fingers as if they had been stung, and then shoved them between her thighs. Of course I had to compound the problem by staring at where it was wedged. At the sound of Connor’s snort, I forced my focus back on the road.

“Bottle shop over on Main Road, OK?” he asked Kendall without looking away from the traffic he was navigating.

“Yeah, sure.”

I wanted to say I learned my lesson, that I was keeping my eyes to myself, but when we pulled up outside the bottle shop and Kendall got out, it was obvious I hadn’t. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, then went walking off into the shop. We trailed behind her at a discreet distance.

“How the fuck did she get more beautiful?”

Kendall was wearing an old pair of jean shorts and a shirt made from fabric that looked light enough to fly away. I wanted to tear it off and see how far it would float. We found her looking at the rows of alcohol bottles and just stared at her.

“Beautiful…?”

Connor always had something to say if the occasion warranted it, and if he was lost for words now, it meant something. I glanced at him, then her, then back again and saw it. His lips twitched, wanting to smile, but there was something haunted in his eyes that wouldn’t let him.

And I knew what.

Kendall was the girl that had slipped from my fingers and no amount of grabbing had brought her back, but right then, I knew Connor felt the same.

“Yeah, she’s even more beautiful.”

He said it in the same way he would describe an order of timber over the phone to a supplier, but I knew what that flat tone hid. He surged forward, taking the cheap bottle of tequila from her hand and putting it back firmly on the shelf. Right when she went to splutter, he picked up several bottles and held them close.

“I’m not buying top-shelf tequila for a lazy afternoon by the pool!” she hissed at him.

“No, you’re not.” He shot her one long look, wanting to say so much more, and I knew what. Not the words exactly, but the gist of it. What we thought about her, what he felt, what we’d always intended to do the night she left, but instead of vomiting that forth, he just nodded and strode over to the counter. “Just these, thanks, mate.”

“Not these, thanks, mate,” Kendall said, grabbing for the bottles, the poor bloke at the till looking at the two of them in confusion. “You’re not—”

“Buying you a housewarming present?” Connor did smile then, his eyes glittering in the same way they did when he faced down some fuckhead who was ready to fight him on a job site. But in this case, he did not want to hit Kendall. He only dared her to say a word, to make a scene in front of the guy who just wanted to ring up our purchases and move on to the next person. I watched closely, not sure how she’d react. Definitely didn’t expect her to take a small step backwards when he said this. “Yeah, I am.”

Connor turned to the bloke behind the counter and handed over his card, the rest of the transaction taking place silently, so when he put the bottles in a bag, we all heard the clink and the rustle as they were handed over to Connor.

“I make a perfectly good margarita with that tequila,” she said, eyeing him sideways as we walked back to the car.

“I’m sure you do.” There was a little something in Connor’s step, an extra spring. “But I make a better one with this stuff.”

“Better…”

Kendall’s mum told her that every time she reacted, it just egged us on. She was entirely right, but it didn’t stop Kendall from responding. I saw it now, a shadow of the girl she was, rising as her lips thinned and her fingers flexed, but to my disappointment, she took a long breath before letting it out slowly.

“Fine.”

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