Page 85 of Someone You Deserve

After I finish the last coat of paint, I hop in the shower and race to Catch & Release for my shift. Dallas greets me as I slide up next to him at the bar.

“Do you realize you have paint in your hair?” he asks, glancing at me from the side.

“I tried to get it out, but honestly, it’s easier once it dries.”

“True.” I can feel his eyes on me as I pour the tequila into a shot glass, making a margarita. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grate out, growing tired of being asked this fucking question.

“You don’t seem fine.” He leans closer to me and drops his voice. “Is everything going all right with Astrid?”

“It’s fine.”

“Jesus, you sound like a woman right now. You and I both know thatfinedoesn’t actually mean everything is fine.”

I shove him away and shake the tumbler before pouring the drink into a glass. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. You finally went after the woman that you’ve wanted for years and you’re not acting like a man should.”

“And how is that?”

“Like a fucking peacock,” he says, making me arch a brow at him. “Puffing your chest out, fanning your tail…” He trails off and then recognition dawns on his face. “Ah, fuck. You two haven’t done much talking yet, have you?”

“Are you the fucking relationship guru now?” I retort.

“Hey, my relationship may be new, but I learned my lesson about not saying what’s on my mind. Talking about shit sucks, but you can’t read her mind and she can’t read yours. Plus, you two are bringing another person into this relationship, and you can’t pretend like that’s not the case.”

“I fucking know,” I mumble, lowering my voice as I place the drink on the server tray waiting on the counter. “But we haven’t exactly had the chance to dive into that topic yet and I don’t want to rush that conversation.”

“True. I don’t know, though…” He scratches his chin. “I feel like you guys need to make time for that.”

“And when the fuck would that be?”

He takes a step toward me and looks me dead in the eye. “You fucking make time, Penn—because when something’s important to you, that’s what you fucking do.”

***

“God, it smells good in here.” I inhale the aroma of turkey and whatever else my mom has cooking already right as I step into the house. Call me weird, but I love Thanksgiving food. I wore a worn pair of jeans today that have a little extra give just so I can gorge and not feel completely miserable. But that after-dinner nap is really what I’m looking forward to after the past few weeks.

When I round the corner and step into the kitchen, I’m greeted by the sight of my sister and my mother standing side by side, mixing food together in bowls with pans strewn all over the counters. I’m the first of my brothers to arrive, which actually pleases me since there’s lessshit talking I have to participate in. My mind and body can’t handle too much thinking right now.

“Put on an apron and help,” my sister says with a grin on her lips.

I take a seat at one of the stools on the other side of the kitchen counter instead. “I don’t want to get in your way. You two look like you have a system going and the last thing I want to be accused of is disrupting it.”

My mom grins at me knowingly. “Well played, son.”

I tip my chin at her, smirking right back at her. “I thought so.” Then I turn my gaze back to my sister. “By the way, your backdrop is in the bed of my truck.”

Hazel does a little shimmy. “I’m so excited to see it! Thank you, big brother.” She blows me a kiss and then goes back to mixing the stuffing together.

“You’re welcome. I hope it looks okay. I was half asleep while I was building it.”

“Using power tools while not fully conscious probably isn’t a good idea, son.” My mother shifts dishes around on the counter.

Hazel studies my face. “Yeah, now that you mention it, you look like shit.” She points to my eyes. “You’ve got bags, big brother. You may want to consider using a night cream.”

“Shut up, Hazel.”

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