And it was all my fucking fault.
***
I had no idea what was going on in this game. I was finishing my third beer, and even though I’d been watching the game for an hour, I couldn’t even tell you with any certainty who was playing.
I’d almost been sent home from work. My finger was still sore, and I’d blamed my lack of concentration on that, because it wasn’t like I could discuss this with anyone.
The person I’d talk to about relationships, the person I trusted with my life, was the one person I couldn’t mention this to.
Leo.
He’d fucked with me before about Ava. I think he knew that I was attracted to her, but that was it. It wasn’t groundbreaking information—Ava was absolutely beautiful, and I wasn’t the only man in the world. Even Preston and Noah admitted she was hot.
Just like Halley and Reagan were. I could appreciate good-looking women and be attracted to them without wanting to kiss them.
I still couldn’t tell Leo I’d kissed his little sister. Being attracted to her was one thing—sticking my tongue down her throat and upsetting her afterward was something entirely different.
I was ready for the black eye I knew I’d get if he ever found out.
“I’m gonna get another beer. Anyone want one?” I looked around the table and was rewarded with three resounding yeses.
I got up and headed for the bar, thankful for a bit of breathing space. I needed to take a moment by myself to get my shit together before the guys questioned what the fuck was wrong with me.
I placed the order for the beers and leaned against the bar. I didn’t know what I was doing here tonight. I didn’t want to be here.
I wanted to be anywhere but here.
I wanted to find a time machine and go back to a time before I kissed Ava. Before I lived with her. Before I knew what it felt like to have her sighing into my mouth and my cock pressed against her stomach.
Jesus. I had to stop thinking like that.
I paid for the beer and grabbed all four bottles. Only Noah and Preston were sitting at the table, and the bar erupted in an angry shout. A glance at the screen told me they didn’t agree with a penalty.
The story of every football fan’s life.
I set the beers down and sat down. “Where’s Leo?”
“Stepped out to take a phone call,” Noah answered. “So. How did your chat with Ava go?”
“What do you mean?”
“After you kissed her,” Preston answered.
I froze. What the fuck? “How the fuck do you two know that?”
Noah smirked at me. “Have you met our girlfriends? Ava’s best friends? The Three Musketeers? The three women who will take the place of their elders and terrorize this town when we’re all dead and gone and there’s nobody to control them?”
“I like how you think we control them now,” Preston drawled before turning to me. “His point, however convoluted, is correct. Ava told Halley and Reagan, and I can’t speak for Noah, but I was going to move out last night if she didn’t finally fall asleep.”
Noah snorted. “I stayed at Reagan’s last night and had to give her Benadryl pills. She thought it was Tylenol.”
“Shit.” I put my elbows on the table and buried my face in my hands briefly. “Does Leo know?”
“Nah. It’s not our place to tell him. That’s between you and Ava.”
Preston nodded in agreement. “We figure you can’t talk to him about this, so while he’s on the phone, talk to us.”
“Plus, we’re dating her best friends. It’s the ultimate inside track to a woman’s brain.”
“Women don’t even know their own brains,” I replied. “But your hearts are in the right place.”
They both chuckled.
“It went shit,” I admitted, wrapping my hands around the beer. “I told her I’ve been attracted to her for years, and she all but admitted that she has feelings for me. We both hid it because of Leo. I’m staying on my mom’s sofa tonight.”
Noah shook his head. “Reagan has an early start for a wedding tomorrow. You can take my spare room. You don’t need to sleep on your mom’s sofa.”
“Thanks, but—”
“You’re staying at mine. Just keep your underwear away from my dog.”
I wasn’t going to ask.
“What are you gonna do now?” Preston asked. “You gonna do anything about it?”
I shrugged, lifting my beer to my lips. I downed two mouthfuls and let it clink back against the table. Another roar filled the bar, but the guys were both focused on me.
“Nothing,” I answered after a minute. “We both agreed it can’t happen again. It’s awkward as fuck, though, and I’m probably going to have to find an apartment to lease while I decide if I’m staying or not.”
“You should tell him.” Preston drunk from his bottle. “You’ve been best friends since you were kids.”
Noah tipped his bottle in his direction. “Reagan’s told me everything and then some at this point. I dunno about Leo, but if I were him and Ava was my sister, I’d want her to date someone I trusted.”
I rolled my shoulders back and sagged in the chair. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Not right now while it’s all so fucked up.”
“Man, grow a pair.” Preston pointed at me. “I live with my sister’s best friend. Doesn’t matter than Reagan knew about the feelings Halley and I had. There isn’t a single situation where having feelings for your best friend’s sibling is gonna be easy.”
Noah nodded in agreement.
“Or you could just talk to Halley,” Preston continued. “She was where you are. She might have some advice.”
“Or you could just tell Leo,” Noah added. “It’s the fuckin’ easiest way to clear it all up.”
“Ava doesn’t want him to know.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Doesn’t matter what I want—I fucked up enough already.”
Noah held his hands up. “We’ve got your back, man. We won’t say a word.”
Preston agreed, and they both held their bottles in the middle of the table.
I clinked mine against theirs, and that was the end of the conversation.
I had a feeling it was only for tonight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
AVA
Making Friends Is Hard
Let it be said that Ava Parker was not good at making friends.
It didn’t matter if those friends were human or animals. It was not my forte. It was why I didn’t get along with Halley’s raccoons even though they took a liking to everyone who, well, wasn’t me.
I just wasn’t good at it.
I was more than a little socially awkward where being personal came into it. I could stand behind a bar for eight hours and serve eleventy-billion beers, but if even one of those people flirted with me, I was a goopy mess.
A goopy, awkward, flailing mess.
Apparently, that also extended to hedgehogs.
I’d said it a thousand times, and I was going to say it again: my fear of rodents and rodent-like creatures was not irrational. It was a genuine thing, and given some of the fears that were out there, mine was pretty normal.