Page 38 of One Touch

Declan grinned. “Genius, right? I brought her because she’s hot and polite enough to keep Mom off my back.”

My throat tightened.

Jesus Christ. He’d used her for years, and she hadn’t realized it until it was too late. Until her heart was already primed to be shattered. And I thought I was the biggest prick in the family.

An unexpected surge of protectiveness coursed through me as I stared down at my little brother. I had always known he was an arrogant and entitled little shit, but I was beginning to realize he was also a complete and total asshole—the cruelest kind of person, and he’d led Kate to believe she was the center of his world when really she was nothing more than convenient entertainment.

On the outside, it may not appear I have much in common with my best friend, but Duke and I shared more of a bond than my brother and I ever would. There was absolutely nothing shared with Declan other than a fucked-up family history.

I despised the fact that Declan knew exactly how soft Kate’s skin felt.

“You know what, little brother? You may see it as a throwaway town with people who don’t matter, but that town shows up for its people.” I stood, my chair scraping across the hand-hewn wood floors, and tossed a few hundred-dollar bills on the table, knowing full well Declan had the money but wouldn’t have even bothered to reach for his wallet. “It’s the whole reason the town keeps calling me back.”

* * *

It had beenover a week since I had finalized the completion of the build in Chicago. Tootie’s farmhouse was the only open project I had going on, and it was official: Kate was avoiding me.

She flitted around the jobsite, offering her opinion to my crew and taking pictures forHome Again, but she was very careful to avoid any and all interactions with me.

Her carefree laughter grated my nerves. I spent my afternoons sneaking glances, and when the distraction of her presence caused me to smash my thumb with a hammer, I was done.

“Fuck!” I sucked my thumb into my mouth. While we were waiting for cabinets to be built, I had started crafting custom shutters for the farmhouse.

A car pulled up, and Annie and Lark, Wyatt Sullivan’s girlfriend, stepped out. They were both dressed in flannel shirts and denim jeans, as the summer evenings had started their descent into cooler September nights.

“Hey, Beckett,” Annie called, raising her hand. Her bright-red curls lifted in the breeze, and she tamped them down with her hand.

Lark offered a bright smile and a wave, and I lifted my chin and grunted a greeting.

“It’s looking great out here,” Lark called as she surveyed the disastrous construction site. “Everyone is so thankful for the help.”

“Yeah, especially Katie,” Annie chimed in.

Lark gently hip checked her and whispered something, making them both laugh. I lowered my head and went back to work on the custom shutters.

I could hear the front door open, and I tried not to look up as Kate bounded down the stairs. Tight denim molded to her ass and thighs, running all the way down her legs. They were cuffed at the bottom and stacked on top of short, Western-style boots. She was the epitome of a girl-next-door, small-town wet dream.

I knew what those thighs felt like straddling my hips, and I cursed myself for the millionth time for not having wrapped my hands around those hips and squeezed, just to get an idea of what Kate would feel like bouncing on my dick.

The green flannel shirt she wore was tied up around her slim waist, and the taut bare skin of her stomach made my throat dry. A tiny white tank top stretched across her chest. I knew from being only inches away from them that her breasts would be soft but firm in my palms.

I continued to hammer on the shutters, joining the pieces and ignoring the ache in my gut.

“Are you coming up to the Fireside Flannel Festival?” Annie asked. The three women paused, and Katie popped a hand on her hip, waiting for my response.

I shook my head and looked back down at my work. “Nope.”

A disgusted noise shot out of Katie’s nose, and the girls piled into Annie’s car, leaving me scowling down at my sore thumb.

Duke and Lee would be up at the festival. Hell, the entire town would be. It was an annual kickoff to fall, with beach bonfires and a carnival that turned into a weekend of dancing and drinking. Live bands would play country music classics and Top 40 hits, while townies and tourists welcomed fall with the kitschy charm only a small town like Outtatowner could bring.

The Fireside Flannel Festival was nothing like the elegant galas my parents often frequented. They would be horrified that instead of $2,000 per plate dinners, the folks of Outtatowner would be washing down hot dogs and funnel cakes with cheap beer.

I sat back on my heels and sighed.A cheap, cold beer sounds pretty fucking good right now.

I pulled up my texts from Duke and asked him if he was still planning to head out there.

Duke:Already saved you a seat, brother.

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