No Good Mitchell - Riley Hart Page 0,22
good time, you might need to ask that Mitchell to come on over and suck your dick,” Walker teased, glaring at me from the riding lawn mower he was working on fixing.
In a white tank, stained from years of being covered in oil and mud, he took a socket wrench to the side of the riding lawn mower, which had gone down a few weeks earlier. Walker had always been the handyman around the house, fixing everything from the garbage disposal to broken equipment in the distillery whenever it wasn’t so bad we had to call in a pro.
“I’m having a perfectly good time, thank you very much. Here I thought I was being sweet by keeping you company.”
“You are. Now can you make yourself useful and hand me those sockets?”
He indicated the plastic case on the tool chest against the wall, near his ATV. I fetched it for him, and he fished out the socket he needed. As he affixed it to the ratchet handle, he went on, “Now don’t play with me, Brodes. I know you didn’t just head over to the Mitchells’ the other day to give him a tour of his own place.”
“Here you have me wishing I hadn’t mentioned it.”
“Think you just proved my point. You did tell me, and you sounded like you enjoyed talking to him. I’m fine if you don’t want to put a label on what’s going on just yet, but you can admit you want to spend more time with the guy. As Big Momma woulda said, you’re sweet on him.” He grinned, knowing damn well how much I hated that expression.
“I’m going to throw up.”
“Oh, is that what he’s into? Not judging, just seems pretty damn intimate for this soon in your courtship.”
“Shut it.”
A knowing grin slipped across his face as he continued loosening a bolt on the mower. “Don’t like that I’m getting warm?”
“Not even close.”
“Ooh, more like hot?”
“He’s a nice guy. Totally cool, considering my family is a bunch of assholes, present company included.”
“Hey, just Big Daddy and Dwain.” He’d pulled the bolt from the side of the mower and cupped it in his hand with the others. “Walker’s pretty awesome.”
“He’s aight,” I said playfully, earning an eye roll. “But if Cohen wants to chat some more, he’ll text or—”
“Oh, so he has your number?”
“I handed him my phone. It took, like, two seconds for him to key it in. That all-knowing look you have for not knowing shit makes me want to deck you.”
“Maybe because you’re looking to work off some hot tension with a certain prick Mitchell.”
“He’s not a prick,” pushed past my lips, and judging by the satisfied look on Walker’s face, it was exactly what he’d wanted.
“Awfully defensive for a guy you just think is cool.” He winked, reveling in having caught me.
“Whatever. I’m not pushing anything. He’s right next door. Whether or not Big Daddy and Dwain are okay with it, we’re going to be seeing him and Isaac around plenty.”
“Oh, that’s right. Wonder what that guy’s story is. Interesting how close they are. You think they…mess around?”
“What? No.” Again, I sounded far too defensive for someone who didn’t give a damn about him. But I would have been envious at the thought of anyone getting to explore what I was denying myself.
“Would that piss you off, knowing they did, since you’d be all jealous?”
“Jealous? Of a guy I’ve known for five minutes? Please. You’re ridiculous.” Walker glared at me until I confessed, “Wouldn’t hate trying it again, is all. You happy?”
“As a clam.”
“I feel like I don’t tell you enough how corny you are. And here you’re acting all smart when, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, you don’t see me, Mel, Dwain, or Lee being the go-to guys for fixing shit.”
He chuckled. “Aw, poor bro. Hasn’t anyone ever told you the great commandment? He who fixes the lawn mower doth not mow thine yard.”
I laughed. “That can’t be how you say that.”
“Eh, something like that. But I think you’ll find once I’m finished with this who the real sucker is.”
Namely me. “Damn, you smart fuck.”
We shared a laugh, then shot the breeze some more before finishing up and heading to the house for dinner. As usual, Big Daddy got to talking about business before saying, “And by the way, what are all these horse pictures doing on our Instagram page?” He eyed me from across the dining-room table.
“People like horses. Gets more likes and shares than anything else we post.”
“That’s not