Page 3 of Summer Storm (Seasons In Montana: Summer #9)

The fun brother

Aaron

Sometimes it sucked living in the same house as Ezra. He’s two years older and sometimes because of his serious demeanor comes off more like a parent than a sibling. Especially with the fucked-up mess our parents left as a legacy. Jorie has softened him up a bit, but Ezra is who he is.

I tip the beer bottle back, up-ending the last swallow. Glass clanks against glass when I toss it into the recycle bin under the kitchen sink.

I’m past ready to get the hell out of here.

I was able to hold them off earlier because neither Ezra or I was into airing anything personal at work; we’d been through enough of that thanks to our mom, dad, and uncle-dad.

I’m really not in the mood for the questions Ezra wants answers to or the gleeful glances Jorie keeps throwing my way.

I know she’s getting off on this. Normally, I’m known as the fun brother but the jealousy and possessiveness I felt when one of the guys this afternoon dropped his arm around Brielle?Not good. At least not for me.

After both Jorie and Jolie gave me hell for glaring like a creeper, they explained that if I’d have been paying attention, I would have heard the two men were Brielle’s brothers.

That information helped reign these crazy feelings in some.

That was the only thing allowing me to calm down enough to finish the jobs I had on today’s docket…

and not make a fool of myself in front of the camera.

Still, I was low level restless with my head on a swivel, hyper aware as I tried to catch glimpses of her over at the cop shop for the rest of the day.

Maybe I was making too much out of this, but I didn’t think so.

I don’t think I’m making up the connection between us or blowing it out of proportion.

This thing, whatever it is, feels too…weighty; like the potential is there ripening into the sweetest most delicious fruit just hanging there waiting for the right moment to be plucked from the branch.

Maybe it was having a front row seat to Ezra getting out of his own way and going after what he wanted with Jorie that is influencing my thoughts now.

All I know is, the essence of Brielle has hung within my conscious and subconscious for all of these months.

For her to show up here in Wintervale again, has to mean something , doesn’t it?

If I believed in kismet or destiny or star-crossed lovers, it certainly seems like fate is giving me a big ol’ flashing arrow, pointing in her direction, not that I’d admit it to anyone else.

Hell I can just imagine the helping of shit all that philosophical woo-woo crap would garner, but fortune, as they say, also favors the bold. Now I just need to figure out how to go about getting her to talk to me.

Shaking my head, I change my mind and lay it all on the table for Ezra, but it isn’t my brother who gives me perspective and a workable plan, it’s Jorie.