Chapter One
Noah
Cross Creek wasn’t a metropolis, but with a population of 2,500, I should have been able to escape three of the residents—my brothers—at least for a single night.
Sitting at a table in Roy’s Bar, amongst many of the other less annoying residents, I brought my beer to my lips as my brothers entered and walked my way. Quinn dropped into the seat beside me. Ethan and Bayden—Quinn’s fraternal twin—sat across the table and signaled for beers.
Quinn clapped me on the back. “You’re extra broody tonight.” I lifted both shoulders, then let them sag as if the strain of a dozen bags of concrete weighted them down. This time of year always hit me hard, and it amazed me that my brothers didn’t get it.
“I’m not broody.”
“He totally is,” Quinn spoke directly to Bayden, who ignored both of us as Angie walked by. Bayden leaned over, watching the sway of her hips as she passed.
“Don’t even think about it.” Ethan lifted his gaze from his tablet, where he was likely jotting down ideas for our next big construction project and looked at Bayden. He snapped his fingers in front of Bayden’s face but got his hand swatted away. “She’s all wrong for you, bro.”
The three of them gawked at Angie as she walked away. I wasn’t sure what she had that made them drool like horny teenage boys. I guess living in a small town made fresh meat enticing. Angie hadn’t been here long, but she didn’t seem too interested in dating, especially not my obnoxious brothers. I tossed back the rest of my drink; any other night, it would be one and done, but I had a rough day and my brothers are driving me crazy, so tonight would be a double down—down my throat.
“Why’d you cut out early today?” Quinn turned to look at me.
“You guys could handle it.” Old Roy walked up with my brothers’ beers. He owned the bar and could be anyone’s grandfather with his white hair and watery blue eyes. He was a good guy, too—one whose colorful stories were a legend in this tight-knit community.
“Changing of the guard?” Quinn asked, glancing around at the lack of waiters and waitresses. Roy rarely ran drinks to tables unless he was the only one to do it, so the assumption was the next shift was clocking in.
Roy’s deep voice was slow and measured. “Yep. Training a new waitress tonight.” He left quickly as another table hailed him.
My brothers settled into their seats, and Bayden and Quinn took long pulls off their beers. Their mannerisms were identical, even though they weren’t.
We often hung out here for drinks after work, which was why quitting time was my favorite part of the day. Usually, we’d haul ass over here and bullshit about everything and nothing. Tonight, I didn’t feel much like talking.
“Who’d he sweet talk into working here?” Ethan scanned the bar.
I remained unfazed. As long as they could pull a beer and deliver it, who cared who Roy hired?
“What’s wrong with working here?” Quinn asked defensively.
“Nothing, but—”
Quinn elbowed Ethan, “I’m messing with you. Lighten up. What’s gotten into you guys today? You’re all so damn glum.” He didn’t get much of a response, and with a sigh, he lifted his beer. “To Tuesday night.”
A few tables down, Gypsy lifted her glass. “Are you boys being troublemakers again?” She wasn’t one to blend in with her bright yellow and orange tie-dyed shirt. Her long gray hair hung loose to her waist in thick waves, and her bright-green eyes sparkled with mischief. Gypsy was a Woodstock leftover who never got the message that flower power and groovy were over decades ago.
“Yep, stirring things up as usual,” Quinn lifted his mug in salute, spilling at least a sip over the edge.
Ethan’s attention left his tablet, and he focused on the door. “Look who came to join the party.”
Quinn ignored him, instead, continuing his conversation with Gypsy. Bayden glanced over his shoulder and stiffened. It was a Mom-walked-in-and-caught-you-in-the-candy-bowl kind of reaction.
Interesting.
Miranda—the new sheriff—stepped over the threshold. She pulled her hat off and nodded at Roy.
Bayden appeared to perk up, and I wondered if there was something between him and the sheriff. Bayden was Quinn’s opposite in nearly every way, despite them being twins. His dark hair and sky-blue eyes weren’t the only things that made him different. His close-lipped, quiet demeanor meant he kept things close to his vest. Given Ethan’s words, I wasn’t the only one who thought there might be something between our younger brother and the pretty new sheriff. Even though Angie had caught his eye earlier, it was obvious who had his full attention now.
Roy and Miranda shared a few words while I took in her five-foot six-ish frame. With her inky hair and almond-shaped eyes, she had an exotic air about her. Her fair skin didn’t seem to soak up the sunshine like most of us, and her high cheekbones gave her a regal look.
While she appeared delicate, there was something fierce about her.
As if she read my mind, her dark gaze moved toward me then flicked to Bayden before returning to Roy.
Maybe there was something between them.
I took a swig of my beer and watched my brother study her.
“Don’t make me show you a good time.” Quinn’s casual flirting with Gypsy brought a tittering laugh from the older woman.
“Boy, you wouldn’t know what to do with me. Besides, you need some sweet thing who’s your age.” On the tail end of Gypsy’s words, Angie walked to our table once more. Her brown eyes traced over every one of us, and we all leaned away from her except Bayden, who stayed focused on Miranda and didn’t seem to notice Angie at all this time.
“Hey, boys.” Angie paused.
Ethan was quick to speak up. “Hey, Angie, how are—”
“What’s Benji doing here?” Bayden growled the words, and we all glanced in the door’s direction. Benji, the local journalist for the Creekside Sentinel, stopped Miranda to talk to her, but she seemed less than thrilled.
“You know he likes to write stories on every new person in town, but Miranda’s been dodging him like a pro.” Quinn sounded proud of the sheriff.
Bayden turned and scowled, then lowered his beer to the table with a thump. There was definitely something going on with him and Miranda, if only in his mind for now. Was this flirtatious thing with Angie just a game? Was he trying to make the sheriff jealous?
Without a word about any of it, I finished my beer and signaled for another. Roy caught my eye and nodded before heading back to the bar.
The back of my neck prickled, and the air took on that electric charge that usually came right before a fight or a wicked storm. I smoothed my hand over my skin and took in the room. Nobody seemed like they were looking for a scuffle, and the last time I saw the sky, it was clear.
At the bar, a familiar-looking young woman smoothed her hands down the front of her apron with an unsure slowness. Her white-blonde hair framed her face and tumbled down her back. When she lifted her head, I jolted like someone had kicked me in the dangly bits.
Her brilliant, ocean-blue eyes locked on Roy with a hint of relief, and a smile crossed her full, cherry-red lips.