Page 58

Maxie? Seriously? Was Bryce ready for his head to roll? Also, how had this become Maxwell’s life? He was late, sure, but that didn’t usually put him off his game. But then Bryce didn’t usually pick on him so blatantly.

Was Bryce seriously hitting on Eryn? She wasn’t his type. If she were, she wouldn’t be attractive to Maxwell. Plain and simple. Therefore, he must be doing it merely to annoy Maxwell. And it was working.

Maxwell studied his brother.

Bryce met his gaze with an eyebrow lifted in challenge.

“These baked beans smell great.” Maxwell shoveled in a bite and tossed a prayer heavenward that he wouldn’t lose his cool and deck his big brother right there in the dining hall. He could totally take him, though. Right? Although Bryce had been digging and raking and edging and whatever landscapers did for a couple of summers. He might have grown a muscle or two.

Doubtful, but possible. Either way, this wasn’t the time to find out.

“Hey, Maxwell.” Paisley pushed her plate aside as she leaned on the table. “A few of us are talking about heading out on a trail ride slash camping trip the weekend before Thanksgiving up to that mountain lake. Interested?”

Maxwell’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “Sounds cold.” Still, would Eryn be going? He glanced toward her, but she was looking down.

“Yeah, I agree.” Bryce punched Maxwell’s shoulder a little harder than required. “We Sullivans are used to the lap of luxury, and camping in the mountains in November is not remotely luxurious.”

“No one invited you.” Paisley skewered him with a look. “I was talking to Maxwell.”

Whoa, Maxwell hadn’t realized how deeply Paisley’s animosity toward his brother ran. Had Bryce tried to lure Paisley into his web before she’d caught up with Weston? Probably. She was female, under 50, and lived in Montana.

And now he was hitting on Eryn. Not because he wanted her — probably — so it must be to mess with Maxwell. What had Max ever done to him to deserve this treatment? Nothing.

Being born last in a family of four boys meant that Maxwell had scrambled for every bit of favor from his father. As eldest and heir to the Sullivan throne, Wally’d had the lion’s share of approval. Easygoing but hardworking, Tate had been Mama’s boy while holding his own with Dad.

Bryce had been an underachiever his entire life. It hadn’t taken Maxwell long to realize he might never be either parent’s favorite, but he could beat out Bryce with one hand tied behind his back.

Had Bryce resented that? No one had made him step aside.

And now it seemed he wasn’t taking it anymore, but petty digs and jealousy games were juvenile maneuvers unsuiting to a Sullivan.

Maxwell nearly choked on his mouthful of ham. Oh, boy. When had he gotten as conceited as Janessa’s earlier accusation? Because he seemed to think that Sullivans were above mere mortals.

Except for Bryce.

Whoa, he had some thinking and praying to do.

Dinner had been agonizing. Maxwell had been late, and his brother rude and condescending. If that was flirting, Eryn wanted none of it. Paisley’s invitation to the trail ride had fizzled. Weston, as usual, was lost in his own quiet world, and Dad had yawned repeatedly throughout the meal and excused himself before everyone else was finished.

That would leave Eryn to walk back to staff housing with Maxwell. She should be glad of that, right? They’d been together for only a couple of days, but other than that one perfect kiss, nothing had changed.

Seriously, Eryn? You expected him to ditch his job for you every day like he did Monday? He has work to do. Work he hasn’t invited you to see. Work with several female crew members. Also, Janessa is pretty.

Eryn shook her head, trying to dislodge the insidious thoughts. Would she ever feel worthy of anything, let alone Maxwell’s attention?

The attention he hadn’t given her today.

Because he was working, as he should.

“Deep in thought?” Maxwell smiled at her across the table.

Bryce elbowed his brother. “Not sure how you’d even know about that. Your brainwaves are so shallow they barely exist.”

And Eryn was so, so tired of listening to Bryce cut Maxwell down.

Paisley pulled Weston to his feet and turned to Eryn. “See you tomorrow!”

“Sure!” Eryn infused brightness into her tone. Could she walk back with Paisley and Weston instead? No, not with the way Weston pecked a kiss to Paisley’s cheek then tugged her toward the doors.