6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas

by Rye Hart

  It was a depressing reality. “It's crazy, and I'm not going to lie, it's flattering as hell,” I said. “But it's also the last thing I need right now.”

  ***

  A short time later, we left the coffee house and parted ways. Jenn climbed into her crossover SUV – a car, once upon a time, I would have never pictured her in. I was within walking distance to my parent's house, where I was staying, so I took off on foot. When she drove by and gave me a quick beep with her horn, I waved.

  A small grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. I still couldn't believe that I'd agreed to have dinner with Cason – something I never would have agreed to had it not been for her. But then her voice echoed through my mind. I deserved to have a little fun. There wasn't anything wrong with me enjoying myself. Was there?

  I'd been through pure and utter hell before coming back to Black Oak. Didn't I deserve to just enjoy myself and my life a bit for a change?

  Acting on impulse, I pulled out my phone and texted Quinn as I walked, not wanting to be a complete jerk to the guy. After all, he'd been nice enough to help me escape the bonfire when I got to feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.

  I thought it would only be polite to show him a little appreciation for pulling me out of there. I sent him a quick “Thanks for saving me last night,” text and put my phone away.

  Not even a full minute had passed when my phone buzzed again, and I had to admit, getting such a quick response from a man like Quinn made me smile. I didn't want to admit it, lest things start getting complicated, but I honestly felt better than I had in a while. When I pulled out my phone and read his text, my face literally hurt from the smile that broke out across it.

  Anytime, beautiful. Wanna grab a drink tonight?

  Ahh... two dates in one night, what are the odds? And with brothers, no less. In a town as small and insular as Black Oak, it would be positively scandalous and gossip fodder before the day was out. I knew I had to respond and politely decline, figuring that I'd just tell him I had plans already and leave it at that. It didn't want to completely shut the door on us getting together at another point in time though.

  I keyed in my message, sent it along – and then my phone rang less than a minute later. I sighed, but was smiling as I answered the call.

  “Yes, Quinn?”

  “Plans, huh?” he said, in that smooth, sexy drawl of his. “Nothing that can be changed?”

  “I'm pretty sure they're set in stone,” I said with a laugh. “But, you can always talk to your brother about that.”

  “Bennett?” he asked.

  “The other one.”

  “Dammit. Cason. The little shit. I should've known,” he muttered under his breath. There was silence on the line for a second, but when he came back on the line, he still didn't seem deterred. “What are you up to right now?”

  “Just walking home from the coffee house,” I said.

  “So, I guess that means you're probably near Boulevard Books, right?”

  I looked across the street at the brick building and smiled fondly, remembering that I'd spent a lot of time as a child.

  “I am,” I said. “Right across the street, actually. But, how did –”

  “Perfect,” he said. “I'm just finishing up at the restaurant, want to meet me here? “

  Driftwood was two doors down from the bookstore. I looked over at the restaurant, which had a new coat of paint and a deck that had been added on since the last time I'd been home. I had no excuse not to step inside and say hello. “Sure,” I said. “But I can only stay for a minute.”

  “Great. See you in a few,” he said before hanging up.

  Dammit, these McCormick brothers apparently weren't going to let me get away that easily. I smiled as I slipped my phone back into my pocket though. Like I'd told Jenn, I'd be lying through my teeth if I said it wasn't flattering. This sort of ego boost could be dangerous if I didn't keep it – and myself – under control.

  Looking both ways before crossing, I strolled across the street to the restaurant. And as I pulled open the heavy wood door, I was greeted by yet another McCormick boy. Bennett was standing at the front of the restaurant, talking to one of his waiters. He was wearing black dress slacks and a dark blue button-up shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and showed off his muscular build. He looked over at me when I walked in, giving me a double take. When he saw it was me, a dashing smile that could have lit up Times Square spread across his face as he excused himself from the guy he'd been chatting with and made his way over to me.

  “Can't get enough of our BBQ chicken, can you?” he asked.

  “No, it's amazing. But, actually, I'm here to see your brother,” I said. “Quinn called and asked me to stop by.”

  “Of course he did,” Bennett said, shaking his head, not able to hide the hint of annoyance in his voice. “He's just finishing a couple of things up in the kitchen, give him a few minutes, will ya?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I don't mind waiting.”

  “Come, sit at the bar,” he said.

  Without waiting for me to respond, he took my arm and led through the restaurant. Half the tables were empty as people began trickling out. Lunch hour for most folks was drawing to a close. He patted a seat for me to take and then slipped behind the bar.

  “So, what can I get you to drink?” he asked, flashing me that million-dollar smile.

  “Oh, I'm good,” I said. “But, thank you.”

  “I insist,” he said.

  “Well, if you insist,” I said, giving him a little smile. “I'll just have a Coke then, please.”

  He poured me a Coke and handed it to me, refusing my money when I handed him a few dollars.

  “It's on me,” he said.

  “I still owe you for my dinner last night,” I said, taking a sip.

  “That was on me too,” he said. “But, if you were to insist on paying me back, I was hoping you might be free tonight?”

  “I can't,” I said, cringing at having to reject yet another invitation for the evening. “I have plans.”

  “Let me guess, Quinn?”

  “No, actually not,” I laughed, shaking my head. “Cason.”

  “That little shit,” Bennett said, shaking his head and stroking his chin. “Well what about tomorrow night then?”

  “I don't know if I should.”

  “Why? Because you're seeing my brother tonight?” he asked. “Afraid of how that might look to the townies? Or are you afraid that you might like me more than him?”

  He gave me a flirty little smile, showing off that dimple once more, and I swear, it made my heart skip a beat. He was a beautiful man, there was no denying that. But, I scolded myself, I needed to get my head on straight. I didn't need these complications.

  “I'm only now just getting back into town and I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea about me. I don't want to be the subject of gossip down in the hair salon.”

  “Would it change anything if I told you that you already were?”

  “What?” I asked, my eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

  “No,” he said, chuckling. “I was just hoping it'd help get you to change your mind.”

  “Listen, aside from not wanting to be gossip fodder, I'm really not looking for anything serious,” I said. “And I'm especially not looking to cause drama between brothers.”

  “Who said anything about drama?” His dark brown eyes drank me in. “If you're honest, up front, and aren't playing us, there won't be any drama.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Quinn walked out, his eyes scanning the room for me. As soon as they landed upon me, he smiled – then he shot a dark look at his brother. Bennett caught the look and shook his head, a sly grin on his face. Quinn walked over to us at the bar, looking absolutely irritated and obviously cursing under his breath. Running a hand through his shaggy hair, he stepped up and leaned against the bar, trying to look casual.

  “Ready to go, Hailey?” he asked brightly.

  “Go? I asked. “Wh
ere are we going?”

  “You'll see,” he said, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

  Bennett leaned forward across the bar and with a sparkle in his eye, said in a low voice, “I'll pick you up tomorrow night at six.”

  Quinn shot him a look of pure annoyance and Bennett just kept smirking. Great. As if my life couldn't get more complicated.

  CHAPTER NINE - QUINN

  Boulevard Books and More was a quaint little bookstore that had been around seemingly forever. Like the Driftwood, it was just one of those institutions in Black Oak. In addition to the new titles that came out monthly, there was also a section for used books, as well as “Local Authors” tucked away in the far corner.

  As we stepped inside, Mrs. Elwood smiled at us, a familiar face even after all these years. Her husband had passed away, leaving just her in charge of the place. Behind the counter, there were rare first edition books, antique toys, and unique collectibles that were also for sale. She'd said that most of her business was done online these days, but people still came far and wide for her collection of valuables. The store was filled with old rocking horses, dolls with creepy eyes that seemed to follow you as you walked through the shop – which I swore was done on purpose to keep folks from stealing – and a myriad of other trinkets from a time long past.

  It was one of those unique stores that you hoped would never go away. But with Mrs. Elwood getting on in years, and no kids to take over the business, I wasn't sure how much longer Boulevard Books was going to be around. The thought of it not being open anymore, honestly, made me a little sad.

  In the center of the bookstore, there were couches and chairs. A couple sat together, reading and sipping hot tea, just relaxing and enjoying their purchases.

  “Do you remember that poem I read in high school?” I asked. “After my grandma passed away?”

  “I think so?” she replied. “If I remember right, Mrs. Doyle praised it highly. And she didn't hand out compliments very often.”

  “Yeah, and she encouraged me to submit it to a couple anthologies,” I said.

  I took her by the hand and led her back to the local authors section, suddenly feeling a little queasy about showing her. I hadn't showed it to anybody – least of all, my brothers. They didn't get it and probably never would. But, I figured it'd be something Hailey would understand, and could appreciate. I skimmed the shelves until I came across the book, which had been published about five years ago. It didn't sell many copies, but Mrs. Elwood always made sure to keep a copy or two in stock, just because I was a local boy.

  “Anyway, I submitted it like she told me to, but I didn't have real high hopes,” I said. “So, it surprised the hell out of me when it was selected for publication.”

  Hailey's eyes were wide. “Wow, Quinn, that's amazing,” she said. “I honestly had no idea.”

  “Well, it's not like I told anyone,” I said, flipping through the book until I came to my name. “My brothers would have never let me live it down.”

  Hailey took the book from me and read my poem, which I had to admit seemed pretty childish now that I was older and had a little life experience under my belt. But, at the time, it had been what I felt. Hailey smiled as her eyes skimmed over the words on the page and it looked like a wave of nostalgia came crashing down on her.

  “I do remember it,” she said softly. “I remember that it brought tears to my eyes when you read it out loud in front of the class.”

  “I'm sorry,” I said.

  She looked up at me, a startled expression on her face. “Why would you be sorry, silly?”

  Leaning against the bookcase, I said simply, “Because I made you cry. That's the last thing I would have ever wanted to do, Hailey.”

  “I cried because it was so beautiful,” she said. “You have a way with words, Quinn. You can really make people feel something. That's an amazing gift and isn't something you should be ashamed about. Nor is it something you should try to hide, either.”

  She held onto the book, tucking it underneath her arm instead of putting it back on the shelf.

  “I'm not ashamed, it's just not what men in my family do.” I shrugged. “We're not supposed to be in touch with our emotional side. We're supposed to tuck feelings down deep inside and be stoic. After all, I come from a long line of football players. Tough guys. That's who everyone expects me to be, so it's who I pretend to be.”

  “But you don't have to pretend to be someone you're not,” she said, her lips curling up into a soft smile. “Especially now. High school is long over. We're adults now and are free to be who we want to be. If writing makes you happy, write. Don't even think twice about what anyone else has to say.”

  “What if I told you that being here with you makes me happy?” I said.

  Color rushed to her cheeks as she stared down at the floor. “Listen, Quinn – ” she started to say, but I kissed her before she could say another word.

  Her lips tasted minty, and they tingled as they touched mine. They were so soft and luscious, they felt amazing and I got lost in the moment, slipping my tongue into her mouth. As soon as our tongues touched though, she gasped and pulled away from me, stumbling backward and nearly falling over, a look of absolute shock and mortification on her face.

  I caught her arm. “Careful now,” I laughed. “I didn't mean to knock you off your feet there.”

  She avoided my gaze and muttered something so low, I couldn't make out what she'd said.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “I have to go,” she said, her face bright red.

  She still had the book under her arm as she rushed toward the front of the bookstore.

  “Hailey,” I called out, following her.

  I caught up with her and grabbed her hand, but she yanked it away from me and kept walking with her head down, a bright red burn in her cheeks.

  “Hailey, stop,” I said. “Please, just talk to me. What happened?”

  She almost walked right out the door with the poetry book in hand, but then stopped, staring at it as if she couldn't decide what to do with it. She looked toward the counter and over to Mrs. Elwood.

  “Can I come back for this later?” she asked, handing the book over to the older woman.

  “Sure, darling,” Mrs. Elwood said with a polite smile. “I'll hold on to it for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Hailey quickly turned and pushed open the glass door, rushing out into the afternoon sunlight. I was on her heels though, and wasn't about to let her leave like that. I needed to apologize and get some answers from her. I'd thought I was getting some signals from her. But judging by her reaction, she'd either changed her mind or I'd read them all wrong from the start.

  “Hailey, I'm really sorry,” I said. “I thought you liked me like that. I guess I misread the signals and –”

  She stopped suddenly on the sidewalk, then turned to face me. “I do like you that way, Quinn,” she said, resignation and frustration in her town. “And that's the problem. I can't right now. I just can't.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my life is too complicated as it is,” she said. “I came back to Black Oak because I need to be alone for a while to figure some shit out, and to get my head straight.”

  “Let me help you, Hailey,” I said.

  I reached for her hand again, and this time she didn't pull it away. Her eyes welled up with tears and her hands were shaking as she opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed it again without saying a word. She kept looking around her, almost like she expected to find somebody standing there watching her, and she curled her arms into herself protectively, holding them close to her body like she'd done last night at the bonfire.

  The way she was standing there made me think she was scared of something. Or maybe somebody. It struck a nerve and ignited a protective instinct in my gut.

  “Hailey, what's going on?” I asked, stepping closer and fighting the urge to wrap my arms around her, knowing that wouldn't go
over very well.

  She stepped back and pushed the sleeves of her sweatshirt up a bit, and that's when I saw the bruise on her wrist. Like someone had grabbed her too hard and restrained her. She caught me staring and pulled the sleeve back down, covering it once more. Hiding away what was obviously causing her a lot of emotional pain.

  “Did someone do that to you?” I asked her, motioning toward her wrist. I felt a vein in my temple begin to throb.

  She looked away, not answering. Her jaw was clenched and there was a strained tension in the air between us. She looked like she just wanted to run away. She looked so scared and so lost in that moment and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her – and throttle whoever it was who'd hurt her.

  “Who did that to you, Hailey?”

  My blood was boiling. Someone had hurt her, and regardless of who it was, that wasn't okay in my book. You didn't hurt women. “No one,” she muttered, turning away from me. “I really have to go.”

  She bolted away, but I followed her, keeping up with her stride for stride. She refused to look at or even acknowledge me, but I walked beside her the entire time. “Hailey, someone obviously hurt you,” I said. “Will you talk to me, please?”

  “There's nothing to talk about,” she said, a single tear falling down her cheek. “Just leave me alone, Quinn. And tell your brothers to leave me alone too, okay? I just want to be left alone.”

  “I won't do that,” I said. “I won't just walk away,” I said. “Not when someone's hurting you, Hailey. I can't just pretend I didn't see it. I won't.”

  She shook her head and stopped abruptly, which made me almost stumble. I looked up and saw that we were standing outside a two-story brick home – her parent's house. Both of their cars were out front, meaning they were home. Through the front windows overlooking the yard, I saw her mother moving around inside and awkwardly felt like a teenager doing something wrong all over again. Hailey reached for the gate, but I put my hand over hers and stopped her.

  “Don't you get it, Quinn? No one is hurting me. Not anymore at least,” she said, wiping her nose. “And that's why I can't get involved with anyone or be part of whatever game you have going on with your brothers. I just can't handle being hurt again.”