Page 33 of Whatever Will Be

“I need to go back outside,” I tell him but he doesn’t move from the doorway.

“You didn’t interest me back then,” he says.

“No need to repeat yourself,” I grumble.

But Trent’s not finished with his thought.

“You interest me now, Gretchen. More than I’d like.”

After dropping that little bombshell he disappears from the doorway. Seconds later I hear the hinges of the back door shriek as he returns to the backyard.

Trent’s motives are difficult to guess. Perhaps he’s just trying to provoke me for fun, although I don’t know what he’d get out of that. But I’m positive I’m not imagining the charged attraction between us. We both feel it, whether we should or shouldn’t.

And I know I shouldn’t.

I have responsibilities. I have the girls and they come first. I’ve never put much effort into relationships anyway. The emotional investment is a drain on my time and my time has always seemed better spent in pursuit of more tangible goals. From college on, sex is something to be enjoyed and not treated with seriousness.

Still, the days of hot flings and wild sex are over. Even if they weren’t, I shouldn’t be having hot flings and wild sex with my brother’s oldest friend.

Before I leave the room I check the shallow bottom drawer of the china cabinet, half expecting to find more candles. Instead, there’s a row of long stainless steel utensils that are clearly meant to be used for grilling. I scoop them up and shut the drawer.

Out on the patio, Danny has already rolled off the cover of the grill and is lighting the burners while ranting about team lineups and designated hitters and other baseball matters. Trent listens as he stands back, propped up against one of the pergola posts. He was once as much of an athlete as Danny. I suppose he lost the opportunity to play when he was sent away to that reform school and never found a way to get back to the game.

Danny brightens when he sees me. “Good, you found them.”

The silver forks and spatulas are clutched in my right hand like weapons. Carefully, I set them down on the iron picnic table that’s been here forever and now shows spots of rust.

“The girls are playing in the carriage house?” I ask my brother.

“Yup.” Danny plucks the nearest fork and spears it into a pile of raw meat. “Someone will eat these brats, right?”

Trent steps over to watch the food land on the grill. “Damn, I didn’t realize what a mouthful those things are. Think you can handle one that size, Gretchen?”

He winks at me, the insinuation clear. Trent has decided to see how hard he can push my buttons before I erupt.

Joke’s on him. I won’t be erupting.

The meat sizzles. Danny throws burger patties on haphazardly. “Last I checked, Gretchen takes pride in her vegetarian status.”

I smile, not at my brother, but at Trent. “Actually, I eat meat all the time.”

“No kidding.” Trent tilts his head. “All the time, huh?”

“Every chance I get.” I strut in front of him, aware that my v-neck black sweater and tight jeans do good work showing off my figure. “I’m a big fan. And I’m not even slightly shy about getting my fill.”

Trent’s expression flickers and he shifts his weight. He clears his throat and can’t come up with a snappy response. I roll my tongue over my upper lip for emphasis. He blows out a thick breath and has to look away.

There.

Victory is mine.

Danny remains oblivious. He flings a metal spatula to Trent. “Hey, watch these, would you? Thought I saw a bottle of barbecue sauce in the pantry so I’m gonna grab it.”

“Will do,” Trent says and casually flips the spatula in his fingers as he watches me with a lazy smile.

I keep an eye on the doorway to make sure my brother doesn’t overhear this conversation. “Fair warning, your juvenile efforts are wasted.”

Trent continues to flip the spatula in a maddening way. He doesn’t respond.

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