Page 2 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)
The irritation must be written on my face, not that I’m trying to hide it, because Eric visibly cringes.
“I didn’t mean you’re weird. I remember your parents coming to games. You look like your mother.”
It’s the nicest compliment a person can give me, and I guess it’s true. I have the same dark hair, pale skin, and clear blue eyes as my mom. I may look like her, but the resemblance stops at the surface.
My mom had this way of making people feel like they mattered.
Where she was fearless, I hesitate. She filled a room with laughter, while I shrink into corners, awkward and unsure.
Although she died four years ago in a car accident, the mention of her still causes a tight ball of emotion to clog my throat.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I know Eric notices because he looks like he wants to bolt.
Why can’t men handle a crying woman? They’re emotions, not the clap.
Oblivious as always, my brother orders another round, then turns to me again. “Seriously, you think I’ve got any chance with Avah?”
“About as much as a snowball in hell. And leave my friends alone.”
“How are the two of you friends?” he demands, but hands me a beer when the bartender places a bucket of them on the scarred wood bar. “She was the ultimate cool chick in high school.”
“Are you purposely being more of a dick than usual, or is tonight special?” I assume Toby knows it’s a rhetorical question.
To my horror, he answers anyway. “Don’t get your granny panties in a twist.”
I can’t believe he just told Eric Anderson, who’s now looking less like he wants to escape and more like he’s trying to bite back a smile, that I wear granny panties.
“They’re hipsters, Toby. If you’d fix your washing machine, you wouldn’t need to bring your laundry to my place.”
“I’m not complaining, Tay-tay. First, you buy those beads that make me smell like spring. Second, I don’t like to think of my little sister getting any. I know for sure you’re not while wearing those bloomers.”
He holds out his hands, indicating to Eric the girth of my giant underwear. I’d be much obliged if the ground could swallow me whole at that moment.
“For the record, I’m going to tell Avah you still suck your thumb,” I fire back.
Toby lifts his hand to give me a high-five that I don’t return. “Maybe she’ll ask me to call her Mommy.”
This time, Eric doesn’t hold back. He laughs heartily, tipping back his head to reveal the strong column of his throat.
If I were another type of woman—or not standing in front of my brother and a guy too hot to give me the time of day—I might lean in and drag my mouth across it. Press my lips to his Adam’s apple and?—
“Tink, stop,” Toby commands. “Gross.”
I blink and touch a finger to the side of my mouth. Still no drool. “How is listening to you be a sexist pig gross?”
“You’re staring at Anderson like you want to take a bite out of him. Trust me, I’ve seen that same look on dozens of faces back in college—and even tonight. Pretty sure Malone has dibs.”
Megan Malone is a firefighter on my brother’s crew. She has dark eyes, naturally wavy hair, and curves for days. She’s also funny, sweet, and a total badass. Megan and Eric Anderson would make beautiful babies together, that’s for sure.
“I’m not looking at him like anything,” I say.
“He’s a manwhore, Tay,” Toby announces. His gaze flicks to Eric before landing back on me. “A manwhore with a heart, but not right for you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.” Eric seems to take the insult in stride, although his smirk goes a little tight around the edges.
“Dude, you can’t help it. It’s pheromones.”
Toby jabs a finger in my direction. “You can help it. Be gone with you and your granny panties.”
“I hate you,” I tell him, then switch my gaze to Eric Anderson, who’s still smirking with a tiny bit of glower added into the mix. While the combo is sexy as hell, it’s also just as annoying. “I hate you by association.”
“Duly noted,” he murmurs and his rough voice sends shivers across my skin. Stupid shivers.
To hide (hopefully) how discombobulated Eric makes me feel, I offer my middle finger once again. “I’m giving this conversation zero stars. Would not recommend. Have a lovely night, gentlemen.”
Both of them salute as I turn away and weave through the crowd of firefighters, greeting several of them, until I reach Avah and Molly at the table in the back.
“Who’s your brother’s friend?” Avah asks. “Talk about easy on the eyes.”
“He’s a conceited hockey jerk, and you’ve got a fiancé.” I take a long swig from the beer Toby gave me.
“I was looking for Molly. It’s time she got back out there.”
Molly chokes out a laugh. “I’m a single mom of twins who lives with my late husband’s mother.” She ticks off items on her fingers like she’s reciting a grocery list. “I haven’t shaved my legs since Thanksgiving, and I’m pretty sure my bra is a holdover from when I was still nursing my kids.”
“Girl, that’s sad.” Avah shakes her head. “Even for you.”
“Why am I the sacrificial set-up lamb?” Molly asks. “Taylor is more single than me.”
What a lovely reminder. “No need to make it a competition,” I protest.
My siblings and dad like to make everything a competition. Since I never have a chance of winning, I don’t bother to try—in most areas of my life, if I’m being honest.
“Tall, dark, and could-be-a-Hemsworth-brother isn’t Taylor’s type,” Avah says. “She likes guys with small hands.”
“Bryan doesn’t have small hands.” I roll my eyes.
None of my friends understand the crush I have on Bryan Connor, one of my co-workers at the high school.
But they’re wrong about him and how perfect he is for me.
Nothing like Eric “Hemsworth-look-alike” Anderson.
“Just because he isn’t some ’roided-up hockey meatstick bagging every puck bunny who steps in his path doesn’t mean he isn’t attractive.
Call me crazy, but I’m not looking to add an STD to my New Year’s bingo card. ”
“She didn’t mean that how it sounded.” Avah stares at a spot past my shoulder as Molly cringes.
“I had blood work done last month,” a deep voice says from behind my chair. “Got the all-clear. Those puck bunnies better be on their A-game.”
I shift in my chair and find myself once again staring into Eric Anderson’s dark eyes. He’s definitely not smiling now.