Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Eric took the seat beside me.
“Distracted.” I curved the brim of my ball cap.
“You’ve been spaced out all week,” he accused, then shot a glance over his shoulder at a group of boardroom types who were all yelling for Gavin from the corner of the bar. “Is there any reason to be in a dive bar in a two-thousand-dollar suit?” he muttered.
“’Tis the season.” I watched my brother make his way down the line of customers. He was a couple inches taller than my six-two frame, which gave him an advantage behind the bar, and perspective to see over the crowd, but I still had twenty pounds of muscle on him, giving me the advantage whenever I needed to kick his ass. “It’ll be thick in here next week.” Memorial Day weekend was always the unofficial start of the influx, and the Grizzly Bear Bar was a good indicator of the current tourist population. Come Fourth of July, this place would be packed to fire code.
“You worried about your test score?” Eric mirrored my posture, bracing his elbows on the edge of the bar.
“Nope.” The results of the exams we’d taken last week to qualify us for promotion wouldn’t be out for another couple weeks, but I knew I’d nailed it.
“Worried that even if you get picked up on the list, and promoted, there’s nowhere for you to advance here at Cape Cod with eleven other swimmers so you’ll have to pick another air station and leave your family?” He leveled a knowing look at me.
“Strangely detailed and usually accurate, but also, no.” But now I was worrying about it.
“I mean, you could go for Port Angeles and soak up the Pacific Northwest, or San Francisco and find out why I love California so much, or even up to Sitka. You know, like you’ve always wanted.” His head tilted slightly, waiting for me to react. That was Eric’s primary skill—finding out what got under someone’s skin and protecting them if he considered them a friend, or digging at it until they bled if he didn’t.
“I’m good here.” It had taken me two other East Coast duty stations before I secured Cape Cod, and I wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Not as long as Caroline needed me.
“Is it the date?” Eric tried again as Gavin took the orders next to us, my brother’s eyebrows knitting as he shot a perplexed look my direction.
“It’s not the date.” I watched Gavin methodically pull a couple beers from the tap a few feet away, his head inclined our direction at an angle that told me he was listening. “Beth is . . . fine.”
“Fine?” Eric’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s a fucking ten, and that’s without my practically-in-laws bias. She’s a teacher, which means she’s smart—you’ve heard how funny she is. Plus she seems to like you—not that you have an issue in that department—so what’s the problem?”
I shifted on my seat.
“She’s not Allie Rousseau,” Gavin answered for me, sliding two beers to the boardroom crew on our left.
“Shut the fuck up.” I glared at my brother and second-guessed my escape plan. He was clearly in the mood to screw with me.
“She’s not.” Gavin shrugged and reached for the liquor on the top shelf. “Brown hair, nice smile, petite. Totally his type, but she’s not Allie.” He poured four shots from the bottle of tequila. “You see, Bachman—”
“Beachman,” Eric corrected.
“Whatever.” Gavin pushed the shots at the suits, then picked up the tablet to record the drinks on their tab. “You brought him in a nice year-rounder—”
“He means local,” I interjected.
“—but little brother here has been hung up on Allie since he was seventeen, and there’s nothing you, or I, or Teacher back there in the booth can do about it.” He set the tablet down on the back bar and faced us, flipping his Grizzly Bear ball cap backward. “Hence the reason he’s sitting at my bar instead of ordering a refill back there.” He gestured toward the booths. “Hudson might be the baddest motherfucker alive to the US Coast Guard, but you put Allie Rousseau in a room with him and he’ll trip over his own feet.”
“Who is Allie Rousseau?” Eric’s face scrunched as he glanced between my brother and me.
“You just had to, didn’t you?” I narrowed my eyes at my brother.
“It is the sacred privilege of an older sibling to embarrass the younger one at their discretion.” He smiled shamelessly and reached for a lager glass beneath the bar.
“Who is Allie Rousseau?” Eric repeated.
“Sometimes I can’t decide if I love or despise you.” The harder I glared, the wider Gavin grinned.
“Both, little brother.” He jostled the brim on my cap like I was twelve again, then poured a Yuengling. “I’m not doing my job if it’s not both.”