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Will lifted his beer in salute when Liv led Matt inside. The man had tan skin and blond hair, his coloring very similar to his sister’s. He was obviously at home in her space. “Hey, buddy. They told me you were coming, but I thought they were shitting me. Grab yourself a brew. I’ve stocked up the fridge.”
Cy just grunted, and Evan didn’t say a word. He never did. Matt didn’t think he could—a side effect of whatever military accident had caused the burn scars on one side of his body.
Matt waved at the men and followed Liv into the kitchen. Brick stood at the stove, stirring something in a big silver pot. Liv stepped behind him and kissed his shoulder blade.
Feeling like an intruder on their private moment, he looked away and saw Kane and his wife, Amanda, sitting at the table in the breakfast nook. He paused, his eyes lingering on Robby beside them. Dark, wavy hair that was forever falling into his eyes, like it was right now. Fair skin, rangy shoulders.
He looked so comfortable here. Must be nice.
Matt never had many friends growing up. Not until Patty came along freshman year: a comrade, a confidant, and an avenging angel all in one petite package.
How many times had the guys in school called him a pussy? A pansy? A loser? Because he kept to himself. Because he didn’t want to play football. Because he hated jeans and T-shirts.
How many times did his classmates accuse him of thinking he was too good for everyone else?
Patty had stopped their shit quickly.
He shook off thoughts of his son’s mother.
Robby was lucky. There was no chance sex was going to ruin his friendship with Kane or Brick.
The guy was nice, even if he always seemed a little nervous. He wasn’t like anyone else Matt had ever met. He brought to mind spun sugar: a sweet, beautiful thing, but one with an underlying brittleness. In the wrong hands, he could be easily broken.
Matt rolled his eyes at how ridiculous the idea sounded in his own head. He could just imagine how dumb it would come across if he said it out loud. One of many reasons he kept most of his thoughts unspoken…less chance of embarrassing himself.
Robby scrambled from his seat and hurried toward him. “Thank goodness! I need a break from baby talk.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with talking about my baby,” Kane grumbled, and his wife laughed at his cranky tone.
“Sorry, Robby. I forget my pregnancy isn’t quite as exciting to other people as it is to me.” She tilted her head toward Matt. “You’d better make your escape while you can, though. Liv and I were just about to catch up onSons of Anarchy,and you know how it gets Kane all riled up.”
“M.C.s are not like that,” he gritted.
Matt scratched his head. “I thought they canceledSOAyears ago.”
Robby leaned into the fridge and pulled out a beer, offering it to Matt. “Oh, they did. These two are binge watching it on Netflix just so they can talk about it in front of Kane and get under his skin.”
Amanda laughed and laced her hand with her husband’s. “Yes, well, that and Charlie Hunnam’s abs. Jax spends an inordinate amount of time without a shirt on. Must be very hot in Northern California.”
Liv fanned her face with her hand in an exaggerated wave. “I get very hot just watching!”
The women were still laughing when Robby tugged Matt back toward the living room, where the other guys stayed glued to the screen. “I’m not really into sports,” Robby murmured, “but if you want to watch, I don’t mind.”
Matt shook his head. He didn’t even know what sport was played this time of year.
Robby led him out to the front porch, to a swing he hadn’t noticed when he’d arrived. It was made of heavy wood, which made sense if it had to support a guy like Brick.
Taking a deep breath of the night air, Robby closed his eyes briefly, then took a sip of his iced tea. “I’m not really much of a beer fan, either. Maybe next time, they’ll let me make a batch of Rum Punch. I don’t drink these days, but I’d be happy to make them for everyone else.”
Matt had never tried Rum Punch before. He wanted to ask what was in it, but the question seemed dumb. He took a swig of his beer instead. It was bitter and crisp. Whatever was in Rum Punch had to be better.
“I always loved trying new mixed drinks back in the day. My ex used to keep a fully stocked bar. When I was there by myself, I used to go on 1001-cocktails-dot-com to find random stuff to make. It passed the time.” Robby shuddered. “I only tried one with Jägermeister, though. Once was enough.”
Matt made a mental note. He’d heard of Jager but had never tried it.
As promised, Robby did enough talking for both of them. “I liked to take the crazy-sounding drink names to the bar and try to stump the bartenders.” He sipped his tea. “I got a few weird looks, but they always came back with the drink I asked for. And they always got a good tip for their trouble.”
They sat in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, rocking gently on the swing. This was the best time of year for weather in Atlanta, the nights just cool enough to remind folks summer hadn’t arrived yet. The neighborhood was quiet; only the faint sound of the TV hinted they weren’t alone.
