Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
When we arrived at Murray’s, Dwain parked in the front lot and waited in the car while Walker and I ran in to pick up supplies.
“How ya feelin’, buddy?” I asked Walker as he inspected the Advil ingredients to ensure we got the highest strength, something we both desperately needed.
“Not as bad as a few hours ago. Still, must feel better than getting reamed by Big Daddy. Who knew you went and made out with the family archnemesis?”
I sighed. “Right?”
“Speaking of which, do we need to talk about anything…with that kiss…? I mean, you were here for me, so if you do have any feelings for guys, I hope you know I have your back no matter what.”
“Okay, I don’t not have feelings about that kiss. I know that much, but let’s say I’m sorting it out, just apparently not—under any circumstances—with the Mitchell guy. But thank you for that, man.”
“Anytime, bro. I’ll be here when you need me.”
I loved all my siblings, but I’d always been closest to Walker. We’d had each other’s backs since we were kids. And it was nice that despite everything our family had been through, that hadn’t changed.
Walker’s gaze wandered, and then he cringed. “Oh fuck.”
“What? Are you okay? Is it the heartbeat? The breathing?”
“No, just…speaking of that Mitchell guy… Two o’clock.”
I glanced at his two. Mitchell and his friend were chatting up Murray’s daughter in a nearby aisle, her gaze on Walker and me like she was waiting for us to notice our official town outsiders.
Fuck.
“Ugh,” Cohen’s friend said, sounding exasperated. “And you don’t know where else carries unsweetened vanilla almond milk?”
“Um…no. We have soy,” she replied, looking back to Walker and me.
It’d been hard to tell the shade of Cohen’s hair in the lighting the night before—waves of a medium brown that hung over the left side of his forehead.
Oh, where did that come from?
I didn’t have time to give myself much hell for what was clearly my mind playing tricks on me because of the hot kiss, since his friend noticed Murray’s daughter eyeing us and nudged Cohen. I looked away quickly, pretending to be too absorbed in inspecting Walker’s work to spot them.
I wasn’t even sure why I was making a big deal of it. I didn’t give a shit about a nearly hundred-year-old feud, but at least in part, I wasn’t eager to be caught by the guy I’d used as my escape plan when Karissa had confronted me at the Barn.
As they continued discussing almond-milk alternatives, I whispered to Walker, “We’re gonna pretend not to see them. Just get the fuck out of here and not cause a scene, okay?”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Easier said than done, since we couldn’t exactly evade them for very long in our small local store, and as luck would have it, as soon as Walker and I approached the cash register, Cohen and his friend were right behind us in line with a full basket.
Murray stood behind the register, glancing between us nervously, like he was expecting Walker and me to start swinging punches.
“Morning, Murray,” I forced out. “How are you doing today?”
“Doin’ all right. You?”
I did my best to make small talk with him, but I couldn’t fight my desire to get a good look at Cohen once again, if only to prove to myself I’d greatly exaggerated his appearance in my mind. Before I knew it, my eyes were set on bright-green irises, which sparkled under the lights Walker found so bothersome at the moment. Cohen wore an uncertain expression before a friendly smile tugged at his lips, shifting his high, cut cheekbones ever so slightly. There was a light dusting of stubble along his jaw.
That face looked even better in broad daylight.
He looked in his early thirties, and his lean physique managed to nicely fill out the polo he wore, biceps and triceps pushing at the sleeves. They weren’t the kind of muscles a guy got by working the land, but sculpted like he put in some time at the gym. Well worth it, as far as I could tell.
It was no surprise that I hadn’t thought twice about kissing him, because if I was going to kiss a man, it should be one as hot as Cohen.
Hate ’em or not, there was something to these Mitchell genes, which was probably why I couldn’t help but return that beautiful smile.
“You guys sure are tall,” his friend piped up, extending a hand to me. “I’m Isaac.”
I barreled right through my not-so-brilliant plan and said, “Hi. Brody. This is my brother—”
“Walker,” he jumped in with.
“This is a sight,” Murray said. “Didn’t imagine I’d be present for the first run-in between the Mitchell boy and the O’Ralleys.”
“It’s not our first run-in,” I noted, and that made Cohen’s smile broaden, and damn, why did that excite me?