Page 127 of Letting Go at 40

Braxton touches Anna again, and innocent or not, I step forward as if I can walk through the glass barrier.

“For a man afraid to say he loves her, you look ready to make a scene.” Logan chuckles and pats my back. “I’d suggest you let it all hang out there. Just let go and tell her how you feel.”

The words are a taunting whisper in Ben’s voice.

Let go.

+ + +

“That Braxton is a funny chap.” Logan chuckles as he slaps my shoulder and falls into the seat beside me.

We sit in one of the furthest tables from the McCaryn clan which includes Archer and Jenna, Amelia, and Anna, and that fucking funny chap Braxton.

“What? Are you British now?” Zack laughs from the other side of me.

“Didn’t you notice his accent?” Logan chuffs.

“I’d like to chap his ass,” I mutter, lifting my third drink. Fuck that accent. Why do women find it so endearing? If he calls someone lovey or dove one more time—

“Chap his ass? Turning over a new leaf?” Logan huffs, hitching a brow at me, and clutching my shoulder, jostling me. He gives me a knowing glare. “Done with women?”

“Fuck you.” I brush off his touch.

“Easy.” Zack narrows his eyes at me, but my gaze is fixated on Braxton.

“Tally ho, ya ho.” Oops. I might have said that a little too loud.

Braxton lifts his head. As Anna sits beside him, she glances up and across the yard, spearing me with those eyes. The dark daggers I’ve ignored for almost a full week.

“Chill,” Zack grits but I’m over this evening. Over watching some other guy touch her and tease her and make her smile.

Isn’t that what’s going to happen if you don’t tell her how you feel?

Someone else is going to realize she’s a catch. Swim in and hook her. Fucking hell. Now I’m thinking in fishing metaphors.

Without excusing myself, I stand and head inside the house making a beeline for the bar. As I stand before the counter, preparing to make myself another drink, a hand cups my elbow and tugs me toward the den.

“What the . . .”

Anna pinches me through my button-down which is rolled to my elbows. I removed my suit coat after the second drink. It’s warm.

Anna’s heels tap on the tile floor before she pushes open the door to the den and we both stumble inside. She closes the door behind me, and I spin to face her.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is hushed even though there isn’t anyone near. Everyone else is outside where the party has finished dinner and people linger before we head down the beach stairs for the bonfire.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?!” I echo and flick my hand upward.

Anna shifts, jutting out one hip while her arms cross over her middle. Her head tilts.

“Oh, come on, Anna. Don’t play innocent with me. I see you with Braxton.”

Her face pinkens and she chokes. “Braxton? He’s just . . . flirty. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” I parrot. “Nothing!” Both my hands slip into my hair and clutch at it.

“Are you jealous?” Her eyes narrow while she fights a small grin.

I snort in disbelief but hell yes, I’m jealous. Jealous that she’s smiling at him while she’s only giving me those soft eyes. Ones I can’t read.