Page 58 of Bad Reputation

Jameson doesn’t skip a beat, moving to sit across from his brother. I scoot into the booth, my cheeks turning red.

“Hey Gunnar,” I greet him.

Gunnar looks between us. “You’re an item then, huh?”

Jameson stretches his arms out, putting one around me. He’s visibly tense. “Yep. Is that going to be a problem?”

“With me? Nope.” Gunnar grins. “Mazel Tov.”

Jameson relaxes a little. “Okay then.”

I pick up my menu. “Are their margaritas any good here? I think we could all use one.”

Jameson gives me an appreciative squeeze. “They’re excellent.”

The waiter comes over and Jameson orders a pitcher of margaritas on the rocks. We also all order food, and I opt for the chicken fajitas.

“That sounds good. Can I get those too, but with steak?” Jameson asks.

Gunnar goes for a ground beef burrito with mole sauce. When the waiter immediately returns with our margaritas, there is some shuffling and pouring. It’s funny how the two brothers divide and conquer the smallest task, with Gunnar setting up the glasses and Jameson meting out a little of the yellowish liquid into each glass.

“Thanks,” I say when Gunnar hands me my glass.

I sit back, taking a sip. I pucker a little, as the liquid is both sweet and sour. It’s also got a pretty strong tequila taste.

Gunnar sips his and sighs, audibly contented. He looks between us, as if trying to figure something out.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head. He looks hesitant.

I glance at Jameson, who is studying Gunnar’s face.

“Spit it out. I can tell that you want to say something.” Jameson pushes his margarita around on the table top.

Gunnar pulls a face, leaning forward. He motions to the two of us. “How long have you guys been… you know, doingthis?”

“Two months. Almost three by now, I guess.” Jameson says it with his voice full of contempt, like he’s expecting Gunnar to start a fight.

Under the table, I put my hand on Jameson’s knee. We exchange glances, and I try to silently tell him to take it easy.

“Does Asher know?” Gunnar asks. When we don’t answer right away, he sort of shakes his head. “Of course not. He would go ape shit if he did. Not that I’m saying that is reasonable, but…”

“You’re the first person we’re telling together,” I cut in, to stem the flow of angry words that I’m sure Jameson wants to unleash. “You’re like the starter home, and Asher is like the big lavish mansion. You know, baby steps.”

Gunnar nods, his brows knitting. He looks so much like Jameson just then, all brooding and grumpy.

“You two look alike,” I blurt out, changing the topic.

That draws two dark gazes my way.

“Well, we are brothers,” Jameson says, sipping his drink.

“Though I try to deny it,” adds Gunnar. “It’s hard when you are one of three clones, essentially.”

I seize on that topic. “Do you guys have any family photos? I want to know who you look like.”

Jameson scowls. “We look like our dad. Except for the eyes… dad had blue eyes. We got our eyes from our mom.”

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