Page 2 of Summer Storm (Seasons In Montana: Summer #9)
Doggone surprised
Brielle
I climbed into the back seat of my SUV, slamming the door behind me, and waited for Jericho and Nolan to get the lead out.
It was useless to even try to drive when my brothers were around.
Case in point, the two of them scuffled, pushing and shoving to get out of our temporary home parked at home.
If they ripped the door off the class-A camper again, I was going to start removing body parts.
Thank God, we only have a month or so more of construction on the barndominium and training center, and Jericho will be heading back to base next week.
Not that I won’t miss him terribly while he’s gone, but living with double older brother alpha-testosterone trouble for the last three weeks and dealing with an all-male construction crew has been driving me crazy and not slowly either.
I’m going to need a full month of spa days to detoxify, and don’t even get me started on the belching, farting, pranks, and dirty dishes. Ugh!
Leaning forward between the seats, I grab the key fob from the cup holder and mash my finger down on the panic button. The horn blares, and the two numbskulls’ heads turn like synchronized swimmers before both make a mad dash for the driver’s side door.
Jericho trips Nolan to reach the door first. I hit the lock button and giggle just as he grasps the door handle.
Little sisters can be assholes, too. Grinning, I dangle the keys from my fingertips and give them my best imitation of mom’s killer ‘you’re gonna get it’ look, before hitting the button again to unlock the doors.
Conceding the loss, though sulkily, Nolan hops into the front passenger seat as Jericho, grinning triumphantly, tries to slide behind the wheel only to crack his head against the frame because the seat is too far forward.
After he adjusts it, he holds his hand out, and I slap the keys against his palm.
“Let’s go, already. I’m starving,” I whine.
I’m so hungry, I swear Nolan’s arm is beginning to resemble a savory chicken drumstick just like in the old Tom we both broke the cardinal rule of dating–– don’t screw crazy. Lesson learned by us both, I guess.
After backing into a parking space, Jericho gets out and opens the back door. I slide across the seat toward him.
“We’re just concerned and want you to be okay, Brielle. Both Nolan and I kinda feel like that bullshit with Franklin and his wife was our fault for being too busy to catch onto what was really happening.”
“I know, and I love you for it, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Grant for lying and his wife for being a complete psycho.
” The rollicking band playing on the patio is more loud than good and thankfully makes it difficult to carry on more of a conversation, but as we reach the entrance, I tug on Jericho’s arm, he bends closer, and Nolan does the same so they can both hear me.
“Let it go, okay? I just want to eat and then go home and go to bed and forget this day ever happened.”
They both look resigned. Jericho finally nods and then takes the lead with me dogging his footsteps and Nolan bringing up the rear as we weave through the bar’s crowd to reach the hostess station.