Page 22 of An Unexpected Home

Maybe he was drunk on Leah.

He heard footsteps and then saw Leah, Carly, and Melanie all emerge at the bottom of the stairs.

“Dinner is served, ladies and gent,” Carly said when she got to the kitchen. “Help yourselves.”

She’d made meatloaf, mashed potatoes and homemade rolls that he knew to be his mom’s recipe.

“This smells amazing, Carls,” he heard Leah say.

After he filled his plate, he went to sit down at the table and only the seat next to Leah was open. He wasn’t sure if it was better than sitting across from her where he’d have to look at her or not, but he didn't really have a choice.

During their meal, the three girls talked about the new studio with him listening and not really saying much. Until Melanie asked him a question.

“Oh, Brandon, I forgot to ask. What’s happening with the robbery?”

“Not much,” he said around a mouthful of potatoes. “We have no leads and no real evidence.”

“That stinks,” Carly said.

He shrugged. “At least nothing was stolen so we are kinda thinking that maybe it was just teenagers trying to be cool.”

His knee bumped Leah’s leg and he felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest.

“I wish I would have seen something that could help,” he heard her say. He was so focused on his breathing from just that small touch of her leg to his. He really needed to get out of there.

Finishing his food quickly, he dropped his fork. “Thanks for the food, Carls but I really should be going.”

He pushed back from the table, knocking Leah’s knee again with his. “Sorry,” he said, not looking at her.

“Brandon,” Leah whispered and her voice forced him to glance at her face. Her eyes were saying ‘don’t go, stay.’ And as much as he wanted to say screw it and give her what she wanted, his heart was already too involved.

“Have a good night everyone,” he said and stood. Once he was outside of the house, he took several deep breaths and demanded that his feet keep going toward his car. If he dawdled too long he knew his dick would start to outrank his brain.

He was halfway home, which was only about a mile from Carly’s house when his phone rang.

Seeing it was his brother, he picked up. “Hey, Logan, what’s up?”

“I think I have something that might be useful to you,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“I’m all ears.” Logan was two years younger than him and at thirty-one he was a gifted photographer. He could be taking pictures all over the world and he had, but three years ago he’d decided to move back home to Cedarville. Now he took mostly family photos with the occasional shoot for a magazine thrown in.

“Meet me at Gayle’s in ten.” It wasn’t a question, which was classic Logan.

What he really wanted was to go home, take a hot shower and jerk off one or two dozen times. But he hadn’t seen Logan in days and family was important to him.

“I’ll be there,” he said and hung up. Gayle’s was a local watering hole that pretty much everyone went to at some point. It sat on the lake, so when the boats were on the water, they could dock and go in for food and drinks.

Pulling up to Gayle’s, he parked and noticed it wasn’t very busy. That was pretty normal for this time of year but, come June, it would be packed.

Waving to Todd, the bartender, he made his way to the back where he knew he would find Logan.

“Hey man,” he said when he spotted his brother at his favorite booth. “What’s up?” he sat across from him. Logan looked tired. More so than usual.

“I just got back into town about three hours ago.”

That’s right. He had been in France for a ten-day photo shoot. “How’d it go?”

“Good, just long.” He took a sip of his beer. “I’m starting to really hate these trips.”

---