Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,38
I am, Frank. They’re my brothers, even if they’re weird. If that rule is good enough for Thea, it’s good enough for them.”
“Hey, you ass!”
“Let me have a cookie and I’ll say ten whole nice things about you,” he barters.
“If you’re not going to say nice things about me, why did you make me your best man?”
“A moment of weakness.”
I roll my eyes and hold up the box. “Here. Eat up.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to my head. “Your hair looks nice…when you brush it.”
“That’s an awful compliment!” I yell to his retreating back, throwing a coaster at him for good measure. “Swear I am going to kill him one day,” I mutter.
“No you’re not. You love your brother even when he’s annoying,” my mother says, grabbing another cookie and following Jonas out of the room.
Frankie grimaces my way. “I am really sorry about having to cancel the movie double date.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m not even mad about it. I just like giving him shit.”
“He was really looking forward to getting to know your new man.” There are those flutters again. “He said something about needing to spend time with him to make sure he’s—”
“Brother-approved?” I guess, and she nods. “Ugh.” I barely resist rolling my eyes. “Can you please tell him that’s outdated and I’m a grown-ass adult and can decide who I date without his input?”
Frankie laughs. “I told him, but he doesn’t listen to me.”
“Why are you getting married to him, then?”
“He has a really nice—”
“Please do not follow that up with anything to do with his anatomy.”
“I was going to say beard.” She laughs. “He just wants to make sure you’re happy, that’s all.”
“I know, I know. It’s just annoying.”
“How is it going with Sullivan?” Frankie leans into me. “Don’t tell your brother, but that name is so hot.”
Don’t I know it.
It’s the first thing I liked about him.
Well, that and his willingness to help a crazy lady who was flagging him down.
“Secret’s safe with me,” I promise. “It’s…good.”
My words sound cautious even to my ears.
Things with Sully are going well…unless you factor in my growing attraction to him.
A real damn inconvenience when we promised not to let our tingly bits get in the way of our arrangement.
We’ve been fake-dating for three weeks now, and the wedding is just three more away. I’m damn proud I’ve managed to keep it in my pants this long given how tightly he has my body wound with each additional look my way.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so skeptical. Good,” I say again, this time with more conviction. “They’re good. Everything is just still so new, you know? I don’t want to jinx it.”
Half true.
She bobs her head. “I can understand that. When your brother and I reconnected, I was very careful about how much I let myself feel for him, especially because I knew what he could do to my heart. I know you had a rough breakup with your ex, so I can imagine you’re moving forward with caution too.”
“Yes, exactly.”
It’s not totally a lie.
I am being cautious because of my history with men, but I also know nothing Sully and I are doing is real, and I can’t let myself blur those lines.
Not even if the more time we spend together, the more I wouldn’t mind doing just that.
“This has to be the tiniest bathroom I’ve ever been in!”
“Are you talking to me while you’re peeing?”
Shit. “If I say no, would you believe me?”
Sully chuckles. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me no.”
“No, Sully, I am definitely not peeing.”
I hear him snicker again, and I’m glad he can’t see the red flaming up my face. I do my business, pull my coveralls back up, wash my hands, and make my way back out to his small kitchen.
It’s been over a week since we went to the movies together, and we’ve spent every single day together since.
I reached out first, then Sully texted me, and then eventually I just started showing up every evening with the excuse of working on his motor.
It took me all of one day to diagnose what was wrong.
I’ve admittedly been fooling around and dragging it out longer than I need to just so I can spend time in his presence, because apparently my social life is that sad.
“You didn’t have to feed me lunch, you know.” I take a seat at the table, pulling the mouthwatering-goodness-filled plate closer.
“It’s a cinnamon bun you made me