Page 42 of Playing it Country

“Lord no,” Otto chuckles as he shakes the kid’s hand. “We’re Otto and Case, and our father is the only Mr. Thayer ’round these parts.” Mason looks momentarily chastised but then relaxes when he takes in Otto’s expression. My brother takes some getting used to but it won’t take long for them to figure it out.

Mason is probably in his early twenties with shaggy brown hair that he keeps out of his eyes with a backward baseball cap. He’s smaller than Bodhi, but the guy radiates energy, and sometimes that’s better than someone lookin’ to throw their weight around.

“Isla said you guys traveled together down here,” I say and Buddy nods—wait…Bodhi—shit.

“Yeah, we went through the foster care system together, and I aged out a couple of years earlier, but blood or not we’re brothers, and I wasn’t going to leave without him.” Bodhi squares his shoulders like that’s going to be a problem for us when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“We understand family here,” Otto says and then smiles. “This is our brother’s garage. His wife is the scary one you met. Any and all repairs will be taken here unless otherwise specified.”

“Isla said you were a bricklayer?” I ask Bodhi.

“Yeah, I didn’t get a chance to finish the apprenticeship up there, but I have all my paperwork.”

Looking at my brother, I nod. “If you work hard for us, we’ll get you set up to complete the program if you’re interested.” His eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, wow, that would be great. I’d love the opportunity to prove myself.”

“And what about you?” Otto turns to Mason, “You got your associate’s degree in construction management, right? Same thing goes.”

“Yes, sir. I promise I’ll work hard for you.”

“Well, all right then,” Otto says. “We start Monday morning at six thirty.” He gives them the address to Darling Farms and hands them the box of pastries before tellin’ them to go enjoy the rest of their weekend.

Bodhi and Mason head back into the parking lot, and the silence of the garage echoes around us.

“I think they’re a good fit,” I say.

“Yeah, me too. Good way for us to expand if they can handle it.” I nod in agreement, then he continues. “Good. Now that that’s settled, you wanna talk about what you got goin’ on?”

“What are you talkin’ about? I’m fine.”

Otto chuffs. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“He tell you yet?” Waylon asks as he walks into the garage.

“Nope.” Otto pops thepand I squint at him.

“There better be coffee in here,” Sorren grumbles, and Otto points to the counter.

“Gave the new guys the pastries though.”

“That’s fine. I made breakfast sandwiches,” Hank says, carrying in a box and setting it on the counter.

“Am I late? This is my first family intervention,” Tanner asks as he walks in, and I groan because this is not how I saw my morning going.

Grabbing a sandwich from the box, I unwrap the aluminum foil and take an oversized bite. It’s spicy and delicious, and I hate everyone in here a little less.

“So…” Waylon looks pointedly at me.

“So what?” I snap and Hank grins, Sorren raises an eyebrow, and Otto snickers. Tanner looks anywhere but at me, and I almost feel sorry for him being dragged into this.

“When was the last time you got laid?” Otto asks, but I don’t answer. Waylon chokes on a sip of coffee and I glare.

“Got anything to do with the fact that your roommate isexactlyyour type?” Otto asks and he’s not wrong.

Hannah is basically my dream girl, but my dreams died a long time ago, and it’s hard to just resurrect something when the ashes have turned cold.

“To clarify—you’re not sleeping with Hannah?” Sorren asks and I shake my head. Physically sleeping? Yes. Sex sleeping? No.

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