Page 89 of Ever With Me

Brian harrumphed and climbed onto the pontoon. “You’re ten minutes late.”

“You keep complaining, and I’m gonna let you off, circle around a bit, and make it another ten minutes.” Peter held out an old-fashioned lunch pail toward him. “Bernadette packed you some apple turnovers and a ham, cheddar, and egg bagel sandwich. You can give the extra sandwich to Brooks.”

Brian gave Brooks the side-eye. “Now I’m sharing my food with him?”

“No, I’m sharingmyfood with him. You haven’t eaten already, have you, Brooks? My wife makes the best breakfast sandwiches in the world.”

“No, sir.”

“Polite, this one,” Brian said, still eyeing him with suspicion as he set the lunch pail on his lap. “Where did you say you were from?”

“Eat your sandwich before you say anything else, Brian. Your sugar is probably low—you’re extra cranky this morning,” Peter said with an eye roll.

Brian and Peter had an ease in their banter that spoke of a lifelong friendship. Maybe a case of opposites being friends, but sometimes that made for the best friends. Cormac was a lot more laid-back and friendly than Brooks was, come to think of it.

“You go fishing often?” Peter asked Brooks as he stopped the boat in the middle of the lake.

“Not really.” He was regretting having come out here.What in the hell possessed me?

“We’re not going to have to teach you how to bait a hook, are we?” Brian asked with a grimace.

Peter tossed an anchor from the back of the boat. “Everyone’s got to start somewhere.” He moved over to the front and set another anchor. “Don’t listen to Brian. He acts like he’s been doing this his whole life, but the man raised cattle. Retired to be a security guard at the local airstrip they like to call an airport. Wasn’t until recently that we both found ourselves with more time in the morning and not a damn thing to do. Gets harder to sleep when you’re our age. Those nighttime bathroom trips end up making four in the morning seem like a good time to get up. You a morning lark, Brooks?”

“Not really. My career requires me to stay up late a lot.”

“What do you do for a living? Bouncer?” Brian looked him up and down, his arms focusing on Brooks’s built biceps, then the tattoos.

“Musician, actually.”

“I play the trombone,” Brian said, chewing slowly. “Not a hell of a whole lot I can do with the trombone these days, though. Kids don’t appreciate good brass instruments in what they like to call music.”

Peter took a parchment-wrapped sandwich from the lunch pail and handed it to Brooks. “Take a bite.” He winked. “I promise there’s not a better breakfast sandwich in the world. My wife makes her own bagels.”

“I can’t take your breakfast,” Brooks protested, holding it back toward Peter. “I’ll be fine.”

“I already ate one before coming here.” Peter took out a thermos. “Besides, a good cup of coffee is all I need in the morning to get me going. Want some?”

“I’m good. And thank you.” He took a bite.Damn.It was good. Peter’s wife was apparently a very talented cook. And the ham wasn’t deli ham like he’d expected, but thick-cut slices of smoked ham.

Content to enjoy his sandwich in silence, he watched the breeze rippling through the trees surrounding the lake. So many more had changed color even since he’d arrived, and the whole place shimmered with one last breathtaking show before the coming of winter. He relished the peacefulness of it, the silence.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d started a conversation with a stranger . . . even when he’d met Maddie, their situation had forced them to talk. But to go out of his way to talk to someone he didn’t know or wasn’t introduced to? Not for ages.

Maybe that made him a snob. He’d always considered himself an introvert, but even he could see the pathetic side to his social skills if he gave it enough thought.

He just wanted to be left alone. Live and let live.

Which doesn’t make me sound too different from a grumpy old man, come to think of it.“Have you lived here all your life?” he asked Peter.

“Where, the lake? Yeah, he’s Brandywood’s own Nessie,” Brian quipped with a grin. Maybe the foodwaslessening his crankiness.

“Brian and I were both born and raised here. Got suckered into staying, I guess.” Peter sat across from Brooks and lifted a fishing rod. “How’re you liking our small town? Probably a change of pace from Los Angeles, yeah?”

“To be honest, I just made it into town yesterday for the first time. But I enjoyed it.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you stop?”

“More like where didn’t we stop?” Brooks smiled at the memory. “The woman who showed me around seems to know every nook and cranny of the place. If I hadn’t been feeling under the weather, I probably would have eaten my weight in pastries.”

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