Page 17 of Craving Consequences

“What?” my friend exclaims with feigned innocence no one’s buying.

With no words, I shove the limes into her hands and nudge her in the direction of the patio table.

She goes with a little huff and I watch her until the weight of their eyes on me is unavoidable.

Each one burns hotter than the ball of fire beating down on us.

They hold me in place as my friend drops the bowl in an empty spot and locates her phone.

She doesn’t even glance over when losing herself in the screen.

“Do I want to know why she needs to know about my friends?” Lachlan asks with the not so subtle folding of his arms.

I grimace even as I force myself to face them. “She’s just being silly. ”

Lachlan hums softly, but doesn’t push me for answers. Van barely moves. His entire focus stays rooted to my face like he’s trying to paint every line to memory.

The intensity of both their attention has me shifting. My gaze is too self-conscious to maintain contact. it slips shyly to the side where the BBQ is still smoking into the clear sky.

“I’ll set the table,” I say like the coward I am.

Neither stop me when I hurry away from them, but their gazes burn into the curve of my spine as I reach the preparation table laden with all the things that need to get carried to the main patio area.

Lauren doesn’t make any attempt to help. She never does unless she’s harassed into it, and I don’t try. Her grumbling isn’t worth it, and it’s never done right when she does it. I’m not an obsessive person, but I do like some order when completing a task.

Still, she peeks up over her phone when I cart the items over. Her big, blue eyes shine with mischief that has me pausing before setting the plate down.

“What did you do?” I accuse with an arched eyebrow.

She flips her phone off and sets it down next to the plate I place before her. “Can’t I just be happy to see your beautiful face?”

My eyes narrow, suspicion crawling up the back of my neck. “Lauren... ”

“Nothing!” she cries, throwing her hands up, palms up in surrender. “I swear.”

Anyone else, I would almost believe her, but I have known Lauren a long time and she’s never not up to something.

Still, I let it slide for now as I return to gather the rest of the items. I pass Van on the stone pathway, his big hands wrapped around a plastic tray containing our drinks.

Our eyes briefly lock in passing before I look away.

With everything set and our plates full, we circle the table with Van and Lachlan taking the heads and Lauren and I seated across from each other.

There’s an empty seat on both our ends. Mine occasionally holds Bron when I can stop him from being a jerk and actually attend dinners at his own house.

It’s a pain for me that he considers his father the antichrist and any amount of time in Lachlan’s presence is deemed blasphemous.

I tried once to ask why he loathed his father so much. My answer was to mind my own business and I dropped it. But it never made sense to me. Lachlan is serious and firm, but there’s a sweet, soft side to him that I want to curl up into.

Plus, I’ve seen how he tries with Bron. He may not approve of the things his son does, but he was there when Bron needed money to pay for everything he needed to become a real estate agent.

He lives in Lachlan’s house and pays for nothing.

He’s invited to everything to spend time with Lachlan and he only does when he needs something in the end .

Still, it’s not my business. Whatever Bron’s reasoning is to hate his father, it’s between him and Lachlan.

“Everly?”

I blink out of my thoughts and glance at the man on my left. “Sorry?”

Lachlan spears a blade of zucchini on the silver prongs of his fork. “Have you heard from Bron today?”

The fact that I find myself forever making excuses for Bron, lying for him is only a sliver of a reason why I struggle to love him the way I wish I could.

“Briefly, earlier,” I murmur, lowering my gaze to my plate to avoid lying directly to his face. “He apologized for not being able to come, but he got caught up in work.”

Lies.

Bron is holed up somewhere with his obnoxious friends.

I know Lachlan knows I’m lying. It’s an unspoken fact between us, but he’s never called me on it. Maybe he’s not into shooting the messenger. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for it, even if I feel gross about it.

“I keep telling her it’s not fair how he’s treating her,” Lauren pipes, aggressively mashing her baked potato with her fork. “Everly isn’t a second thought just to pass the time.”

While I agree, I dislike her bringing up the flaws in my relationship to others. I don’t even tell her about them. I love Lauren, but her sense of injustice on my behalf is exhausting.

“It’s honestly not a big deal—” I begin.

“It is,” Lachlan cuts in. “Lauren’s right. He needs to treat you better.”

Warmth that has nothing to do with the sun prickles my cheeks with embarrassment. “He does his best,” I protest, defending Bron from the truth.

“He forgot your anniversary,” Lauren supplies, scooping pulverized potatoes with her fork.

“We were both busy,” I argue, telling the truth for the first time. “Mayor Ferguson was in meetings that whole week and I barely remembered myself.”

“I still think you need a man —” I don’t miss the emphasis on man. “—who will treat you like you’re his whole world.”

“I think it’s too hot for this conversation that isn’t anyone’s business and we should enjoy the evening,” I counter, shooting my friend with a warning frown to let it go.

“Fine. We can talk about my decision to burn the Cut & Curl to the ground instead.” She waves a fork stuffed with steak and potatoes. “I’m going to need a good attorney. Not Westbrook. The guy who gets off mob people.”

“Or don’t burn down a building?” Lachlan supplies.

Lauren shakes her head, stuffs the forkful into her mouth and says, “Gotta. No choice. It needs to happen.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask, grateful for the change in topic .

“I trap Dani, Meredith and Mary-Anne inside. Set it on fire.”

My eyebrows lift. “Oh, okay, so we’re committing all the crimes. Bold move.”

“It’s genius.” She leans in, pins each of us with narrowed eyes. “After I’ve grieved the appropriate two days, I’ll rebuild in their honor and run the business on my own.”

“Two days?” Lachlan mutters, and is ignored.

“Love it. But what about the shops around it? Can’t have the entire downtown hub go down in flames.”

“Reinforced steel between the walls,” Lauren chimes without missing a beat. “We’ll sneak in at night, tear down the walls. Rebuild the walls with steel. Mr. Shaw can help.”

“Uh, the hell he will,” Lachlan jumps in. “Mr. Shaw does not look good in orange.”

The indignation in his furrowed brows has me stifling back my laughter.

“Do it for Everly,” Lauren coaxes. “Look how cute she is. She’d never make it in prison being someone’s bitch.”

There is no missing the humor shining behind his dark eyes when they drift to me. His tongue rolls over his teeth.

“Maybe Everly shouldn’t be committing arson in her spare time. ”

“She’s the perfect person to commit arson,” Van murmurs, never glancing up from his plate. “Just put a burning marshmallow on the end of the stick and let her put it out.”

Lauren falls back in her chair, head thrown as she howls. Lachlan smothers his chuckle behind his hand. Even I’m fighting the bubble as I round on the man, trying to keep my face stern.

“Hey! That’s mean.”

Gleaming, pale eyes lift to mine, bright with amusement. “But true.”

“One time,” I protest over Lauren’s hysterical cackling. “I didn’t mean to wave so hard.”

“Thank God Lach had the extinguisher nearby,” he continues in that low rasp of his. “The whole forest would have gone up otherwise.”

My cheeks heat at the memory even as I laugh.

“It caught so fast!” Lauren wheezes, swiping under her eyes. “It’s not Everly’s fault the forest is so woodsy.”

“It’s a forest!” Lachlan and Van exclaim in unison.

“I think the forest people should take better precautions.” Lauren meets my eye and winks. “I’m still convinced the fire started itself.”

“Yeah, after the marshmallow fireball hit a tree and fell into dry leaves,” Lachlan agrees with slow nods.

I groan and drop my face into my hands. “I am never living this down, am I? ”

“No,” Lachlan offers supportively.

“Plus side, you found your calling setting things on fire,” Van adds.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Lauren offers gently. “Just don’t set me on fire.”

I throw a fry at her. “Just for that, I’m going to have your claim to rebuild the salon rejected.”

Lauren scrunches up her face. “That’s a gross abuse of power.” Her expression morphs into a saucy grin. “Sexy. What dirty things can I do to change your mind?”

Even while we burst out laughing, the two men exclaim their protest.

Dinner passes with every dip of the sun slipping into the horizon.

We clean off the table — Van, Lachlan and I.

Lauren heads for the pool as I join the men in the kitchen.

I scrape the eaten food from the plates into the trash and pack up leftovers.

Van scrubs the countertops while Lachlan tackles the dishes.

We have done this together so often, no one speaks. The process is smooth. A perfect choreographed dance that each of us have perfected.

All the while, an easy calm soaks the muggy space. Lachlan flips on the small, battery-operated radio over the sink on and lets the sultry croon of jazz fill the silence.

I finish piling the plates for him to scrub and head to grab the broom from the pantry .

Outside the patio door, Lauren’s splashes echo in the soft dusk, tangling with the chirp of crickets. The whisper of leaves. The subtle rustle of the two men moving around me.

Floor swept, I move to take a dishrag and stand on Lachlan’s other side. Van’s fingers ghost over the small of m y back as he leans his hard body into my side and reaches for the salt shaker. It’s only a second of scorched skin before he’s gone and I can draw in a breath.

I reach for a plate and start drying. Lachlan’s arm brushes mine. Our shoulders bump. My fingers graze his as I take the fistful of cutlery from him.

I dry them and turn to take them to the drawer only to walk straight into Van’s chest. His arms. The steel bands close around me, a protective enclosure that folds me in place along every ridged line of his body.

The spoons and forks tumble out of my fingers. A waterfall of silver cascading to the linoleum with a clattering clang that explodes over the hum of music, but all I hear is the clamoring of my heart trying to escape my chest.

“Easy,” Van murmurs softly into my ear, sending a whole new set of shivers racing down my spine.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, and I think I feel his deep inhale, but I can’t be sure of anything when he’s holding me so close, or when Lachlan has abandoned his task and is bending at my feet to gather the fallen utensils .

Distantly, I am fully aware that this does not look good from an outsider’s perspective, but how can I move when Van has me restrained and Lachlan is right behind me.

The front door slams.

As if a bomb had detonated, Van releases me and takes several steps back just as Bron charges into the room, bursting for a fight.

I know that look, that hard set of his mouth, the darkness in his eyes. A kitten could scamper by and he’d find a reason to kick it. The fact that he’s here makes me think something in his plans went awry and he is not happy about it. Now, we have to suffer through it.

“You came—” I begin, trying to keep my voice light.

“What the fuck is this?” he snaps back before I can finish.

For a second, I can’t even recall what I’d been doing until I hear the scrap of metal and glance down as Lachlan scoops up the remaining few.

“I dropped some cutlery,” I state.

Bron barely comes close to his father’s impressive five-six, but he could easily play the leading role in a romantic comedy.

He has those fine, chiseled features that drive women wild, and unlike Lachlan, his eyes are a lighter tone of hazel that make his brows appear darker and his lashes thicker.

It works great for him selling houses as a junior member of Jefferson’s Hearth Realty.

Older women love him. He can be incredibly charming, especially when he fixes you with one of his million dollar smiles that make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world for him.

I didn’t know him when he was in school, but I do know all women love him once he gets his charm on.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snaps. The duffle slung over his shoulder drops to the ground at his feet with a thud. “Can’t you do anything right?”

“Hey!” Lachlan is on his feet before I can even think of a response. His fingers tighten around the cutlery. “Watch it.”

I really wish he hadn’t said anything.

I can handle Bron’s wrath. His temper tantrums and whining. But the level of abject hatred he has for his father ... this night may end in bloodshed.