First Love (Winning at Love Book 2)

by Gillian Jones

  I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. My bad. Next time I’ll have a whole bottle waiting on Your Highness.” I bow in Eastlyn’s direction.

  “’Attaboy. Jeez, training you is taking forever.”

  “Can’t train perfection,” I say.

  “I don’t get why we keep inviting you back,” she huffs.

  “Please. You need me”—I tap the side of my head—“I’m the brains of the operation.” I know I’m only revving her up more. Eastlyn is beyond competitive, and thinks she carries our trivia team. She totally does, but there is no way I’m about to admit it, least of all to her.

  “Oh, Lord.” East tosses her head in exasperation, while the rest of us laugh.

  “Not only am I all brains, I bring the brawn, too.” I raise my arm and flex my biceps, trying really fucking hard to ignore the subtle hitch of breath I hear beside me when Kami’s eyes sneak a peek at my goods. “I’m a total giver. Considerate, and easy on the eyes, too, I’ve been told by many.” I grin like a Cheshire cat, looking across the table at Eastyln, who is pretending to gag.

  “I think you need a second opinion,” East says, and gives my shin a swift kick, making me yelp, and the three of them laugh at my expense.

  “I think we need another guy on this team, I’m way too outnumbered. I can’t always take all this estrogen at once,” I chuckle, as I reach down to rub my shin. “And I happen to know the perfect one,” I mutter, but none of them hear me—which is perfect, really, because I don’t want to spoil the surprise too soon. After all, soon enough, I won’t be the only guy on the team.

  “Ah, I feel better, now,” Eastlyn says. “Where’s Sandy? This girl needs her jiggle juice.” She looks around the place, a satisfied look on her face.

  “Keaton Hatfield, you sure can be a catch when you want to be. You are going to make some girl incredibly happy one day,” Marcy beams, much to my sister’s dismay, hoisting her wine glass again and taking another long sip.

  “Please, Marcy.” Eastlyn makes a show of checking her friend’s forehead for a fever, making Kami snort with laughter. “I’ve already lost Kami to his powers. Not you, too.”

  I turn to Kam, as Eastlyn drones on. Our eyes catch and hold. God, Kam really is breathtaking, her smile so genuine I feel it everywhere. Lost in her for the moment, I feel my stomach dip. For the first time in forever, I have to know. Does Kami agree with Marcy? I’m desperate to be privy to every single thought in this gorgeous woman’s head, where I’m concerned. I’m itching to ask if she thinks I could make her happy.

  Sandy comes over in the nick of time, stopping me from turning into a total dumb-ass. Fuck, I so need some male back up here. If I keep this emotional shit up, all our damn cycles will be in sync. I break eye contact with Kam and open my menu, scanning it, and decide to go with the Philly cheesesteak.

  “Can I start you off with your usual glass of cab sauv, East?” Sandy says, standing beside my sister to take her order first. I don’t miss the evil glare Eastlyn shoots me over her menu when she confirms her drink order then thanks Sandy for knowing her so well, causing me to burst out howling at how dramatic she is.

  “Keep that shit up, and I’ll block your ass for good, Keaton Hatfield,” East says, shaking her index finger in my direction, and we all erupt.

  We spend the rest of the night eating and having a few drinks while kicking ass at trivia, answering questions like: What is the only fruit to have seeds on the outside? According to the Oscars, which actress is the most successful in the award’s history?

  We ended up coming in second place again this week, when Marcy’s answer of 57 was closest in the tie breaker, asking; How many elevators does the Empire State Building have? The answer was 73.

  Once home and in bed watching episodes of The Walking Dead, my mind seems unable to focus on the show. Only the memory of Kam’s smell, her closeness, and how soft her skin was runs through my head. I try hard to ignore the constant, pulsing urge I have to text her for as long as I can. Eventually, I cave.

  Grabbing my phone, I tap out a short message, one I already know the answer to. I’m not ready for there to be silence between us yet tonight. Fuck, I’m reaching an all-time low level of pitifulness.

  Me: See you at 6 a.m.?

  Her reply comes immediately.

  Hellcat: Didn’t we already discuss this?

  Me: Making sure.

  Hellcat: Good thing old age agrees with you. I’m making you an appt for your hearing…although it might be a lot of fun to leave you deaf *rubs hand over chin in contemplation (basically I look like Rodin’s “The Thinker”)*

  I snort. She’s such a dork. An infuriatingly sexy, witty-as-hell dork.

  Me: Always so mean. Would you learn to sign at least?

  Hellcat: Within mere seconds of your prognosis.

  My whole body is flushing with tingles. I know she would. That’s Kami. I need to end this fucking conversation before I say or do something stupid. Like show up at her house right now to show her how grateful I am for her pantomime of concern.

  Me: You’re the best friend a guy could ask for.

  I know that’ll hit home.

  It takes a few seconds. I see the grey dots surface, then disappear.

  Hellcat: You know it! That’s me, good ol’ bestie Kam. ’Night, Keat.

  Me: ’Night, Hellcat.

  14

  Only When the Coast is Clear

  Keaton

  My sister is the worst at being subtle.

  Which is fantastic, because I’m the best at being a pain in her ass.

  It’s Sunday, and as with the end of every weekend, my sister and I are summoned to our childhood home for a Katie Hatfield Sunday Brunch on ’Roids. Consisting of, but not limited to: bacon, eggs, waffles, home fries, sausage, toast, and homemade goodies, complete with coffee and fresh-squeezed juice. It’s no hardship to sit around this table, that’s for sure.

  It’s hilarious that we’ve been talking only about all things McCoy Graves since my sister not so stealthily brought him up over forty-five minutes ago.

  Watching Eastlyn’s face when it clicked was the best. I could actually hear her gears shifting, the instant she remembered McCoy’s brother Rory’s wedding was this coming January. I don’t think she was very happy when I confirmed it might mean McCoy would be in town a few times over the upcoming months—like the weekend she’d bumped into him at the grocery store—and again this weekend for his brother-and-soon-to-be-sister-in-law’s stag and doe.

  I should get some sort of award for keeping my mouth shut about the Big Secret under these circumstances. It will be so worth the wait, though, to watch my sister go off like a firecracker when she finds out the truth, that McCoy is moving back for good. Good thing I’m a man of honour; I wouldn’t ruin McCoy’s surprise for the world. So, I had to work really fucking hard to stifle a laugh when Eastlyn gasped audibly when I mentioned McCoy had sent his apologies this morning for not being able to join us for brunch, that he had to head back to Brockville quite early this morning, as soon as he recovered from Rory and Clarissa’s party last night. I guess Mom forgot to mention to Eastlyn that she’d invited McCoy when she’d heard from him that he’d be in town overnight.

  Eastlyn shifts in her seat, biting her lip while my father, Dave, asks all about the stag and doe. Unfortunately, my mom and dad couldn’t make it, they had tickets to some show in Toronto they’d been waiting to see, so I’m happily giving them a long and drawn out play-by-play, my sister hating every second of it. Eastlyn didn’t really know Rory with him being so much older, so I didn’t even bother telling her about it. And I knew she wouldn’t go knowing McCoy would be there anyway.

  “Yeah, it was a great turnout. McCoy says it looks like they raised a lot of money to put towards the wedding,” I tell Dad purposefully, dropping McCoy’s name as much as I possibly can throughout the conversation like the wonderful brother I am. Call it payback for all the recent Kami-flack East’s been giving me.

 
“It’s too bad we had to miss it,” my dad says, topping up my coffee cup. “Sounds like a great time.”

  “It was, and thanks.” I raise the “They Call Me Darth Baker” mug I’d bought Mom as part of her Mother’s Day present last year, and take a much-needed sip. “Not sure you woulda been able to keep up with us, old man. We drank a lot. It was touch and go this morning for a bit. Wasn’t sure I was gonna make it,” I smirk at my dad, and catch my mom rolling her eyes.

  “Watch it, kid,” Dad replies, swiping a piece of my bacon from my plate.

  “Hey!” I laugh, pulling my plate close to me for protection. Then I resume sharing every McCoy-laden detail about the night, and about all the other pre-wedding events McCoy will be in town for, loving every minute of seeing my sister squirm. At least she can’t say I didn’t pre-warn her this time. Well, as far as she knows, anyway…

  “I’m feeling much better now,” I say, and rub my full stomach, making my mom beam. My mom gets all kind of happy when she knows her children have been well fed. “So good, thank you.” I pop another piece of still-warm-from-the-oven cheese croissant in my mouth, savouring its fluffy goodness.

  “Glad my baby’s enjoying it,” Mom says, sliding a few more pieces of crispy bacon onto my plate.

  “So, he’s leaving again, right?” It speaks its first words since it more or less initiated this whole conversation, asking what I basically just answered. I take the opportunity to mess with my sister a little more.

  “Yep,” I nod, “sorry to be the bearer of bad news, sis.” I give her a sneaky grin.

  “Okay, good,” she mutters, but I catch it.

  “Did you tell McCoy he’s welcome to stay with us when he’s in town?” my dad asks my mom around a forkful of scrambled eggs, and I laugh when my sister almost chokes on her own bite of food.

  “Of course, I did,” my mom says. “Coy knows he’s always welcome here, anyway. He thanked me but said he had another place to stay.”

  I feel a twinge of guilt at not adding any info on the subject of where that place is, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Knowing what’s about to unfold in the upcoming days, it’s just too exciting for me to ruin it by oversharing. I decide to give my family another morsel of interesting information instead. One I know will affect my sister and make her happy, regardless of what she will no doubt try to project.

  “You know he’s single still, eh?” I add, purely for my sister’s pleasure—and maybe to amp her up a little more than she already is. “Did I forget to tell you he and Lola broke up ages ago?”

  I love using McCoy to mess with Eastlyn. Her reactions are priceless. I have to hide my evil grin when I see her blanch as she absorbs that nugget of information. Why she doesn’t just admit her feelings for him is beyond me. Maybe it’s another Hatfield trait? I’d have to admit, she could easily ask me the same thing about my feelings for Kami.

  “What? They did?” she asks, trying to appear indifferent. Yet the squeak in her voice coupled with the glimmer of excitement that sparks in her eyes tells me otherwise.

  “Figured that might make you happy. I’ve tried to tell you, but you always shut me down every time you hear his name,” I say. If I’ve learned anything living as a Hatfield, it’s not to stir the pot too much in front of the parental units. Teasing Eastlyn about McCoy is already pushing the boundaries. We can never let them see any inclinations of a sibling rift, or Mr. and Mrs. Hatfield will legit have a bird. They’d stage a full-on sibling intervention—to the point of insisting we attend some local family therapist—should they detect one iota of their precious spawn not getting along to Hatfield standards. So, I need to reel it in a little before the family’s matriarch wigs out, as she’s the one who would one hundred percent spearhead our immersion into therapy, followed closely behind by our dad.

  “Keaton, leave your sister alone,” Dad scolds, confirming my thought process, as he stands and starts to clear some of the breakfast plates. I huff out an annoyed breath when his blue eyes—filled with worried sympathy—land on my sister. Seriously?

  “Ouch, ya big brute!” I punch my dad’s meaty shoulder, then try unsuccessfully to push his arm away when he reaches out and traps me in a headlock, giving me a noogie. I fucking hate noogies and he knows it, but he does so enjoy any opportunity to mess with my hair. He does it to piss me off, just like he’s always done, almost every time he walks by my seat at the table on his way to the kitchen.

  “Be nice to your sister,” he says out loud, warning me in front of my mother and Eastlyn, before leaning down to whisper, “We all know she’s sensitive about him.”

  I chuckle once he releases my head. Just like that, my dad evens out the playing field. I have to give credit where it’s due, and our parents deserve a shit ton of it. Neither of them ever made us feel they were taking one side over the other. I think it’s what makes them so awesome.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I respond, while my sister gabbles away to my mother, unaware of the words passing between my father and me.

  “Okay, I’m off to Pollock’s Pools to grab some parts to fix the pool heater. Try not to tear the house apart while I’m gone,” Dad announces, after he’s loaded the dishes into the washer.

  “I’ll be the referee, Dave,” my mom assures, and I shoot East a dirty look. She responds by sticking out her tongue when our parents aren’t looking. “By the way, I think it’s great news about McCoy being single,” Mom whispers to Eastlyn as my dad heads out the door.

  “Maybe I should go with Dad. You and McCoy both suck today,” Eastlyn says, and this time I can’t keep my laughter bottled in. She always has to be so dramatic.

  “What? I love McCoy!” my mother croons innocently. “He’s like family. But you know I’m rooting for the two of you, Eastlyn. Always have been. The way you two eye each other reminds me of your father and I,” she says, almost dreamily, her eyes dancing with mischief.

  “Mom! It’s totally not like that!” my sister yelps.

  “It totally is…” I say, my mouth curving into a grin.

  “Shut up, Keat,” Eastlyn snaps. “I could say the exact same about you and Kami.” She eyes me, knowing my mom will weigh in on this, too.

  “Oh, yes! Keaton, please tell me there’s some news on that front. I’ve decided to learn how to knit, so I’ll be prepared.”

  “Mom,” I scold. “I am not having a baby with Kami,” I say, like I have a million times before, knowing it’s falling on deaf ears (although the image of Kami pregnant with my baby doesn’t bother me, at all. I’ve just never let on to that fact).

  “It’s just in case. One can never have too many booties and cute little hats lying around, plus it’s a great skill to have in the event of a zombie apocalypse. Someone will have to make the clothes,” my mom beams, and I shoot my sister an evil look. Eastlyn simply smiles triumphantly.

  Thankfully, my mother quickly turns her focus back to my sister. “Maybe you should explore things since McCoy’s going to be in and out of town? Couldn’t hurt, now that he’s single again,” my mom says, shrugging. She stands to grab the empty serving platter while I keep stuffing my face with whatever’s left on my plate.

  “Yeah, couldn’t hurt,” I parrot annoyingly. Mom smacks me on the arm before moving to the kitchen, carrying the platter, a few plates, and another of her coffee mugs that reads: “Bakers Gonna Bake, Bake, Bake”, the one I got her last Christmas. It’s my thing—gifting my mom corny baker-themed mugs whenever I find them.

  “Sorry to leave you two to battle it out unsupervised, but I should go clean up around the deck so your father can fix the heater. Come help me when you’re finished,” my mom says. She returns from the kitchen a moment later and slides her feet into a yellow-coloured pair of those hideous crocodile shoe things she keeps by the patio doors.

  “Hey, I have an idea, Eastlyn. You should be McCoy’s date,” I suggest, once the coast is clear and I know my mom is outside and out of hearing range.

  “For Rory’s wedding? No way!” Her face
contorts in disgust. Funny, because I’d have bet double or nothing she would have jumped at the chance.

  “Why not? He told me himself he still needs to find someone to go with. You’d be perfect. Well, adequate, anyway.” I’m such a jerk. My sister is more than perfect for McCoy, but what fun would it be if she knew I thought so? Plus, I’ve always loved being the antagonist, so why stop now? “And we both know deep down you’re freakin’ thrilled to find out he’s single again.” I raise my brows up and down like the shit I am.

  “I am not. Besides, I’m sure you of all people could find him a date,” she snarks, adding a low blow. “Such a player.”

  “So what if I date a lot? I’m single.”

  “Then surely you must have someone from one of your harems you could let him borrow for the evening, instead of trying to inflict him on your poor sister?” she says, throwing half a croissant at my head. Luckily, I catch the flying goodness and pop it into my mouth. Throwing one of Mom’s croissants like that? Sacrilege! “Anyway, I don’t even really know the guy anymore,” she says, more to herself than me, almost as if she’s considering it, then thinks better of it.

  “I don’t actually have multiple harems, East. I’m not that bad, despite what you may think. But maybe it would be an opportunity for you guys to reacquaint yourselves? Maybe you could even fulfill some of those many fantasies of yours…” I wink at her, and laugh. She’s too damn easy to wind up.

  “Mom!” she calls out, being the brat she is.

  I raise my hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. No need to bring in the big guns,” I say, trying to acquiesce. “Was only an idea. I mean, aren’t you and Kami always going on about how hot guys in suits are? A wedding equals Coy in a suit,” I say, knowing that image will tempt her.

  Too bad I sometimes forget how quick-witted my sister can be.

  “Actually, that’s Kami’s fantasy,” she informs me, before chattering on, but I can no longer hear her. All I can think of is Kami getting off on some guy wearing a suit, a guy who isn’t me. I catch my sister taking in my current wardrobe—torn jeans, a black Metallica T, my tatted-up arms on full display—before what she’s saying starts to register again. “Maybe it’s time you suited up there, stud. I’m sure Kam would appreciate it,” she calls from the kitchen, loading her plate and coffee mug into the dishwasher. “Maybe that would help you fulfill a few of your own fantasies, too, eh?” she says victoriously.