Sam shrugged. “I have to get my kicks somewhere.”
“Get your own. Get laid.”
“Nope.”
“You’re a weirdo.”
“I’m selective.”
Maybe Sam was, maybe he wasn’t. Chase could honestly say that his brother’s sex life was a mystery to him. Which was fine. Really, more than fine. Chase had a reputation, Sam...did not. Well, unless that reputation centered around being grumpy and antisocial.
“Right. Well, you enjoy that. I’m going to go out.”
“Chase,” Sam said, his tone taking on a note of steel. “Don’t hurt her.”
Those words poked him right in the temper. “Really?”
“She’s the best thing you have,” Sam said, his voice serious. “You find a woman like that, you keep her. In whatever capacity you can.”
“She’s my best friend. I’m not going to hurt her.”
“Not on purpose.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to stand there and lecture me on interpersonal relationships, since you pretty much don’t have any.”
“I have you,” Sam said.
“Right. I’m not sure that counts.”
“I have Anna. But if you messed things up with her, I won’t have her, either.”
Chase frowned. “You don’t have feelings for her, do you?” He would really hate to have to punch his brother in the face. But he would.
“No. Not like you mean. But I know her, and I care about her. And I know you.”
“What does that mean?”
Sam pondered that for a second. “You’re not her speed.”
“I’m not trying to be.” He was getting ready to punch his brother in the face anyway.
“I’m just saying.”
“You’re just saying,” he muttered. “Go just say somewhere else. A guy whose only friends are his younger brother and that brother’s friend maybe shouldn’t stand there and make commentary on relationships.”
“I’m quiet. I’m perceptive. As you mentioned, I am an artist.”
“You can’t pull that out when it suits you and put it away when it doesn’t.”
“Sure I can. Artists are temperamental.”
“Stop beating around the bush. Say what you want to say.”
Sam sighed. “If she offers you more than friendship, take it, dumbass.”
“Why would you think that she would ever offer that? Why would you think that I want it?”
He felt defensive. And more than a little bit annoyed. “She will. I’m not blind. Actually, being antisocial has its benefits. It means that I get to sit back and watch other people interact. She likes you. She always has. And she’s the kind of good... Chase, we don’t get good like that. We don’t deserve it.”
“Gee. Thanks, Sam.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just saying that she’s better than either of us. Figure out how to make it work if she wants to.”
Everything in Chase recoiled. “She doesn’t want to. And neither do I.” He turned away from Sam, heading toward the door.
“Are you sleeping with her yet?”
Chase froze. “That isn’t any of your business.”
“Right. You are.”
“Still not your business.”
“Chase, we both have a lot of crap to wade through. Which is pretty obvious. But if she’s standing there willing to pull you out, I’m just saying you need to take her up on her offer.”
“She has enough crap of her own that she’s hip deep in, Sam. I don’t need her taking on mine.”
Sam rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Yeah, that’s always the thing.”
“Anyway, she doesn’t want me. Not like that. I mean, not forever. This is just a...physical thing.” Which was way more information than his brother deserved.
“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”
“I sleep like a baby, Sam.” He continued out the door, heading toward his truck. He had to get back to the house and get showered and dressed so that he could pick up Anna. And he was not going to think about anything his brother had said.
Anna didn’t want forever with him.
That thought immobilized him, forced him to imagine a future with Anna, stretching on and on into the distance. Holding her, kissing her. Sleeping beside her every night and waking up with her every morning.
Seeing her grow round with his child.
He shut it down immediately. That was a fantasy. One he didn’t want. One he couldn’t have.
He would have Anna as a friend forever, but the “benefits” portion of their relationship was finite.
So, he would just enjoy this while it lasted.
She looked like a cliché. A really slutty one. She wasn’t sure she cared. But in her very short denim skirt and plaid shirt knotted above the waistline she painted quite the picture.
One of a woman looking to get lucky.
“Well,” she said to her reflection—her made-up reflection, compliments of her trip to the store in Tolowa today, as was everything else. “You are looking to get lucky.”
Fair. That was fair.
She heard the sound of a truck engine and tires on the gravel in her short little driveway. She was renting a house in an older neighborhood in town—not right in the armpit of town where she’d grown up, but still sort of on the fringe—and the yard was a little bit...rustic.
She wondered if Chase would honk. Or if he would come to the door.
Him coming to the door would feel much more like a date. A real date.
A date date.
Oh, Lord, what were they doing?
She had flirted with him on the phone, and she’d enjoyed it. Had wanted—very much—to push him even harder. Trading innuendo with him was...well, it was a lot more fun than she’d imagined.
There was a heavy knock on the door and she squeaked, hopping a little bit before catching her breath. Then she grabbed her purse and started to walk to the entry, trying to calm her nerves. He’d come to the door. That felt like A Thing.
You’re being crazy. Friends with benefits. Not boyfriend.
The word boyfriend made her stomach lurch, and she did her best to ignore it. She jerked the door open, watching his face intently for his response to her new look. And she was not disappointed.
“Damn,” he said, leaning forward, resting his forearm on the doorjamb. “I didn’t realize you would be showing up dressed as Country Girl from My Dirtiest Dreams.”
She shouldn’t feel flattered by that. But she positively glowed. “It seemed fair, since you’re basically the centerfold of Blacksmith Magazine.”
He laughed. “Really? How would that photo shoot go?”
“You