Page 28 of Flirting with Trouble

My family is waiting for an answer, so I go for a change in subject. “There are a number of things to consider before I make any decisions, like whether I should try Keira’s blueberry pastry this morning instead of a scone.”

“Scone,” Fitz says, and snags the last blueberry pastry.

“Dude!” I complain, reaching for it.

Fitz licks the top of the pastry, which makes all of us laugh.

“You’re a jackass,” I say.

As I reach for the scone, Grant steals it from the platter and eats half of it in one bite, flashing a gloating grin and making us all laugh harder. I fucking love my crazy-ass family.

After breakfast, Keira is holding Stevie when he starts fussing. “Better give him to Uncle Wells,” I suggest. “Your grumpiness is scaring him.”

“My grumpiness?” she says as I take him from her. “Have you met his father?”

“Your daddy isn’t very grumpy anymore, is he?” I say to Stevie. He’s a sweet little guy, with soft brown peach fuzz and the cutest button nose. When Jillian asked me if I wanted to have children, I answered off the cuff. But there’s no denying that every time I hold Stevie, I feel something. A tug, an urge. I don’t know what it is, but it’s definitely there. I smile down at my nephew, and he stops whimpering. “See, Auntie Kei? We understand each other.”

She scoffs. “Makes sense. Your intellectual age is closer to his than mine.”

I nuzzle against the baby’s cheek. “Hear that, Stevie? It’s called jealousy. Get used to it. Good-looking guys like us get it from every angle.”

After helping our parents clean up, Keira and I say our goodbyes to the others and walk out together. “Hey, you never told me if you have a date today.”

“Only with some cupcakes,” she says.

Great. Now I’m thinking about Victory again. Fucking cupcakes. As if the idea of eating frosting off her luscious body hasn’t messed with my head enough already. I really need to get her off my mind, and there’s only one surefire way to do that.

“What about you? What’s on your agenda today?” Keira asks.

“I’m going to catch a few waves, and then I’ll head over to the restaurant.”

“Have fun.” She opens her car door and says, “I hear the water is colder than usual this weekend.”

“Perfect.” Maybe I can freeze Victory out of my head.

Chapter Seven

Wells

A long day at work during tourist season is usually the best distraction from anything I don’t want to think about, but just like surfing followed by hours of work yesterday, work did nothing to keep my mind off Victory today. I swear the fucking universe is paying me back for a lifetime of messing around. Poker with the guys should be just what I need to take my mind off Victory. We’ve got an endless supply of cold beer, and the guys are in great moods. That’s a recipe for a perfect night, but I’m so frigging frustrated, I can barely sit still.

“Wells, are you going to pick up those cards, or are you waiting for them to saunter into your hand?” Archer asks gruffly. With his short dark hair and neck tattoo, the barrel-chested vintner looks more like he belongs in the military than working at his family’s winery.

Shit. “Sorry.” I pick up the cards, but I don’t give a damn about the game. I try to focus on the guys heckling each other and the music we’re listening to, but for fuck’s sake, nothing is helping.

“What’s going on with you, Wells?” Grant asks. “You’ve been out of it all night.”

“Nothing. It was just a long day.”

“I hear ya,” Brant says. As a boatbuilder, he’s always worked his ass off. “Have another beer. It’s not like you’re driving home.”

“Want to talk about it?” Jamison offers, taking off his glasses and wiping them with the hem of his shirt.

While Brant is the charmer in their family, as my sisters pointed out, Jamison has a serious demeanor, and with his wavy brown hair and chiseled features, he’s got plenty of women vying for his attention, though he seems oblivious to them.

All these guys are like brothers to me. We’ve gotten into trouble together, played heinous pranks on each other, and have been there to pick up whoever needs it when they fall. I trust them with my life, but I’m too frustrated to talk about what’s going on with Victory. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks, man.”

“You won’t be good after this hand,” Fitz says. “I’m going to wipe the floor with all of you.”