“It can’t be that bad, can it, sunshine?”
I jumped and let out a squeak as Brandon’s gravelly, deep voice broke the silence surrounding me, small drops of my cappuccino sloshing over the rim of my mug and spattering my hand. Cursing under my breath, I shook the burning liquid off my skin and glared at him.
He chuckled. “Sorry. Forgot you were so jumpy…” His words trailed off on a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. He stretched, his arms reaching up high as he arched his back, causing his shirt to ride up and reveal a perfectly delicious expanse of taut, tattooed and tanned skin and the beginning of that hot-as-sin “v” peeking out of the top of his low-slung basketball shorts. No sign of boxers or briefs…so did that mean…?
“Chloe!” Brandon sounded exasperated and a little desperate, like he’d been calling my name for a minute.
I jerked my gaze up to meet his face, feeling the scalding heat of embarrassment rise over my cheeks because I’d been caught staring, and staring hard.
“Uh…yeah? What’s up?” I stuttered, trying to smooth over the moment and doing a really shitty job of it.
He smirked and asked, “Wanna go get some breakfast? I just talked to Luke and he and Emma are going to go down to Cracker Barrel because she’s craving pecan pancakes again.” His smile turned genuine and his fondness for his sister-in-law was evident.
“Sure,” I answered, getting to my feet. “Just let me get ready.”
I moved to walk past him and he grabbed my arm, peering into my face intently. “Hey,” he said gently. “Are you still having nightmares? You look like you haven’t slept in a week, sunshine.”
A shiver made its way down my spine at the intimate tone of his voice, and the fact that he called me sunshine again. I know the old nickname shouldn’t make the butterflies go crazy in my stomach again, but it’d been so long since he’d called me that, with the exception of when we were in California, I couldn’t help it.
“I’m fine.” My voice was husky, soft, and- to my ears- entirely too telling. Shaking him off, I moved past him and made a beeline for the safety of my bedroom, glancing back only once to see him staring after me.
An hour later, I was laughing so hard I was crying, listening to Luke bemoan the fact that Emma was turning out to be the stereotypical pregnant woman.
“You laugh like it’s funny,” Luke groaned, shaking his head. He shot a pained look to his wife, who was sitting there with a shit-eating grin on her face, rubbing her protruding belly affectionately.
“Awww, Daddy is being mean, isn’t he, jelly-bean?” Emma cooed to her stomach before shooting Luke a loving look, her eyes sparkling with happiness and adoration.
Luke smiled back at her and winked before he continued his list of her transgressions. “She woke me up two nights ago at two a.m. saying that she needed some chocolate-peanut butter ice cream. I tried to tell her that we didn’t have any, which only got me yelled at. She said she knew we didn’t have any, that’s why I had to go to Meijer’s and get it. At two in the morning! And then last night it was nachos from Taco Bell at eleven!”
Brandon slapped him on the back and said, “Well, at least it was only eleven instead of two again, brother.”
Luke just rolled his eyes, grinned, and then started asking Brandon something about the inventory list at the shop.
With the guys engrossed in their own conversation, Emma turned to me, a sly smile creeping across her face.
“Sooooo…” she began, drawing the word out dramatically.
“Oh, Lord…what?” I asked her warily.
She leaned in closer and whispered, “I’m in.”