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My grin takes over before I can stop it. I gesture behind me. “Fridge.”

His groan is adulterous. Raw and delicious, and deep, rumbling up his chest. “Good. Love that stuff.”

I know.

It’s why I make a point of always bringing it to every occasion Lachlan is at. It’s my way of saying thank you for letting me tag along. For letting me be part of a family again. Silly, really. I know what Bron thinks and I get how it must look, but Lachlan and Van were there for me almost every day after my parents died. Lauren practically lived with me for six months. Refused to leave me alone for a minute, but the other two would just show up with a toolbox or a plastic takeout container from Mama May’s. They weren’t big, over exaggerated gestures, but little things that made me feel safe.

“Can I help with anything?” I offer again, shoving back memories I try not to dig up in public.

His attention drops to the meat frying on the grates. He clacks the tongs together the mandatory two times before flipping the patty over.

In those passing seconds, I move a step closer. Nothing crazy. Just one. I tell myself it’s to hear him over the hiss of meat.

“Where’s your drink?” he says, scrutiny sharp like he knows.

I force a chuckle. “Not really thirsty.”

His eyes narrow, the tongs clack twice. I feel the pull of his disbelief to my chest. A firm prodding to vomit the truth.

I opt to change the subject. “Where’s Mr. Weaver?”

Van is usually next to his friend, beer in hand, chatting the way I’ve never seen him talk to anyone else, not even my dad.But the space next to Lachlan is empty and I don’t see him in the yard.

“Getting the wood for tonight.” He clacks the tongs once. “Thought we’d have a fire.”

The look he gives me through the heavy sweeps of his lashes catches something in the pit of my stomach. It intertwines with the flicker of excitement that lights my chest.

“Really?”

It must have shown on my face because his lip curls up. “Maybe. Only if you get a drink.”

Making a squeak of excitement that elicits a chuckle from him, I spin and hurry inside. I grab the bottle I had originally and sprint back out.

Lachlan’s still grinning when I lift my drink for his approval.

“If a fire is all it takes to make you this happy, we’ll have one every night.”

My cheeks warm and I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t tease me.”

The BBQ lid is dragged down. The tongs are set aside. He folds his arms over that beautiful chest.

“That isn’t how I would tease you, but I’m serious. If you love it that much, every night.”

My fingers tighten around the bottle. “I couldn’t do that to you. Maybe I’ll get a pit at my parent’s house.”

“No.”

I blink at the finality in the single word. “Why not? I don’t want to be a bother to you...”

The boards creak as he leaves his place and starts towards me. Eyes level. Face set.

“No. You’ll come here.” He stops when there’s a solid two feet between us. “Who said you were a bother to me?”

I’m not quick enough to look away.

“No one. I just mean—”

“I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.” He starts to turn away. Stops. Glances back over his shoulder. “I want you here, Everly.”