“Very high, yes,” Sam interrupts. “Which is why I’m taking Stacey to Hawaii for Valentine’s Day.”
“Ohhh, so romantic,” I gush. “Are you going to propose?”
Both Mason and Sam stare at me incredulously.
“No,” Sam spits out, recoiling from my question. He’s been on-and-off dating a woman named Stacey for the last year or so now. We’ve never met her, and if I judge solely off her social media posts—which I hate doing—I think she’s a gold-digging bitch.
I roll my eyes. “You’re not getting any younger.”
“Neither are you.” Sam gets out his phone. “Do you want me to text Archer? At least see if you can get an interview?”
“Do it, sis,” Mason encourages. “You’ve always been the oldest young-person I know.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. Have I been playing it too safe? Maybe. But I don’t see the harm in that.
And I don’t see the harm in interviewing and checking out the hospital. Mason is right. I can come back if I hate it…but there’s a chance I might love it.
And after the shitshow that is my life, a fresh start sounds amazing.
“Yeah,” I say and feel a bit of excitement flood through me. “Text him.”Chapter 5Dean“You look like shit.”
I pick up the weights, feeling the fatigue in my muscles already. I was out until three AM, had a client meeting at eight-thirty, and am meeting my brothers at the gym now at noon.
“I wasn’t going to bring up your dad-bod, but now I am,” I tell Owen, who immediately turns to check himself out in the mirror. Logan snickers.
“You’ve really let yourself go,” he eggs on, making a face in disgust.
“No, I haven’t.” Owen lifts his shirt and flexes his abs, making Logan and me laugh even more.
“As long as people don’t mistake you for me, it’s all good.”
“Fucker,” Owen throws his water bottle at Logan. “Though you do look like shit, Dean. Did you close down the bar again?”
I internally wince. First Quinn now Owen? “Like you’re one to judge.”
“Oh, I’m not judging. I’m just pointing out that you look like shit.”
“I’m tired.” I go to the weight bench to start my workout. I had coffee for breakfast, half a leftover donut from yesterday that was left in the conference room at the office, and I haven’t had lunch yet.
I feel like shit.
“Don’t forget, when I lived my life of debauchery, I was younger than you, old man.”
“I’m only a few years older than you,” I quip and then take in a breath and start lifting. I make it through one set and feel like I’m dying. Okay fine. I probably look like shit. “But it was worth it. Did you know that crab-ass Mr. Farlow has granddaughters? Twin granddaughters.”
“Please tell me they’re over eighteen,” Logan deadpans.
“Fuck you, and yes. They were at the bar last night.”
“Ben was the bouncer last night,” Owen goes on without missing a beat. “He sucks at checking for fake IDs. You probably boned seventeen-year-olds last night.”
“I think I’d know,” I shoot back. “They were very…mature.”
“Twins, though.” Owen checks himself out in the mirror again. “Impressive, though don’t go thinking you’re special. Twins love twins.”
I make a face, pointing from Logan to Owen. “So you…together? I knew the it’s a twin thing meant more than you were letting on.”
“Why do you think we liked sharing a room?” Owen says seriously and a guy nearby on the leg press stares at him.
“Yep,” Logan says dryly, rolling his eyes. “And tell me one time you hooked up with twins.”
“Just one time?”
“He’s full of shit,” Logan goes on. “Though he has slept with most of Eastwood. And now you have, so maybe you should compare notes?”
“You guys are disgusting.” I look up and see Quinn’s reflection in the mirror as she and Archer make their way over. A few months after Aiden was born, she started coming to the gym with Archer, wanting to get back into shape. I don’t mind her coming to the gym at the same time as us, and she usually goes and jogs on the treadmill while we lift, but the last few weeks she’s been having Archer help her with the weights.
“Hello to you too,” Logan tells her.
“Though he has a good point,” Quinn goes on. “At the rate you’re going, you’re gonna run out of women soon. I have this great—”
“No.” I look past her at Archer, who does a good job avoiding my gaze. He knows Quinn pestering me about dating someone annoys the shit out of me. And he knows that Quinn won’t stop until she’s set me up with every one of her single friends. Being put between your best buddy and your wife can’t be fun.
“What about a dating app?”
“Those are basically booty calls,” Owen tells her.
“Really? But the commercials make marriage seem so promising.”