Page 81 of Thornhill Road

“I own a bar up the road.”

“Hmm,” Andy hummed noncommittally.

“He’s totally downplaying it,” I said. Mustang looked at me and I pressed, “It’s true. Don’t look at me like you don’t know it.”

My comment earned me a half-smile before he added, “It’s a good spot for anyone who doesn’t mind a bunch of bikers and some live rock-n-roll.”

Andy pushed his empty plate away from him, casting his gaze my way as he asked, “Is that how you two met?”

“Uh, yeah. Essentially.”

“And how long have you two been…whatever?”

Sensing my brother was now digging, the stubborn part of me replied vaguely, “We met last month.”

Mustang reached for Andy’s empty plate and stacked it on top of his own before pointing at mine. “You done?”

“Oh, babe, no—I’ll clean up,” I insisted with a frown.

“Was gonna hop in the shower, go check on your car, give you two some time.”

I wasn’t all that surprised Mustang wanted to skip the part of the conversation that involved our backstory. He wasn’t a big talker to begin with, and I knew he wasn’t going to sit around and talk about his feelings with a man he’d barely just met—regardless of who that man was.

“Okay. But leave the dishes. I’ll do them.”

He jerked his chin in a nod then excused himself.

Andy quirked an eyebrow at me.

“What?”

I didn’t give him a chance to answer before I started clearing the table. He followed me to the kitchen, leaning against the island as I stood at the sink.

“You know what I never understood?” he asked.

I turned on the faucet and said, “Tell me.”

“How you always go for the guy who’s rough around the edges when dad was as average as they came.”

Loading our plates in the dishwasher, I replied, “I don’t know why you’re bringing dad into this.”

“Isn’t that always the case with women? The relationship they have with their dad is the catalyst for all their romantic decisions?”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. “Okay, Mr. Psychologist.”

“I’m serious. A biker bar?” he asked, his voice hushed. “I just don’t get it.”

I dropped our silverware into the plastic basket, pushed in the bottom rack, then closed the door and turned to face my brother. “You want to go there, big bro? Because we can talk about me and my taste in men, or we could talk aboutyouand how the only commitment you’ve ever made is to the military; or how you can fall in love with the sky, but not with a woman down here on the ground.”

He coughed out a humorless laugh, folding his arms across his chest as he pointed his gaze at his boots. “Let’s not make this about me, Tess.”

“Mmhmm,” I hummed teasingly.

Before either of us could say another word, the sound of Mustang’s boots began to echo softly down the hall. I glanced over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of him as he emerged and saw his hair was damp from his shower, and he was dressed in a pair of black jeans with a white tee underneath his kutte.

He was also headed straight for me.

A zing shot through my belly when he stepped in front of me and kissed me boldly, like I was his and he wanted Andy to know it.

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