Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(37)

“I get that.”

Peck grins, and I think the whole place lights up.

My chest burns with some unnamed emotion as he takes off his black baseball hat and runs a hand through his hair. The air is kissed by the scent of his cologne. My view is blessed by the sight of him in a plain white T-shirt. He moves to accept a beer from Navie, and I can almost see the lines of his body move under the cotton.

“So,” he says, pausing to take a drink. “What do you think?”

That you are delicious.

“Um, yeah.” I fight to remember the question. “I, yeah. I think this place is nice.”

He laughs at my confusion. “This place is not nice, Hawkeye. But you get two points for being polite.”

“It is,” I insist, a laugh in my voice. “I like it. It feels homey. Homier than the last time I was here.” I cringe internally because I have no idea where I was going with that, and now I sound like a fool. “You know what I mean.” Even though he doesn’t. He can’t. I don’t even know.

His brows raise, pulling up the corners of his lips into a grin as he takes a drink.

“Look at you two. My two cute best friends,” Navie says.

I glance up to see her standing beside Machlan.

My mouth goes dry. His short dark hair is styled in a way that looks like he just got out of bed and rolled with it. Tattoos dot his skin, and a wicked smile toys on his lips.

Shit.

“I don’t think we’ve actually met,” Machlan says to me. “I’m Machlan.”

“I’m Dylan.”

“Like I told you,” Navie says, “she’s my best friend. Besides you, Peck, of course,” she says with an exasperation that makes us all laugh.

I press my lips together, feeling my cheeks heat. Why in the world was Navie dating a douchebag named Logan if she had such gorgeous best friends and co-workers? Clearly, she had better options.

I’m looking at them. And the night has just started.

Her eyes perk up, and I know some shit is about to be stirred. I grip the sides of my chairs as I silently plead with her not to do whatever it is she’s about to do. She grins.

“Hey, Mach. Did you know Dylan and Peck are living together?” she says.

“I did not,” Machlan says, looking at Peck. “Why didn’t you mention that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s none of your fucking business?”

“He’s renting me rent a room,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”

Machlan’s attention lands on me. I shift in my seat under the weight of his gaze.

“Dylan, with all due respect—a woman who looks like you is living with Peck. It’s a big fucking deal.”

He flashes me a grin that would probably melt weaker individuals. But as Peck opens his mouth to fire something back at his cousin, I decide to intervene.

“Well, thank you for what I’m taking as a compliment,” I say. “I’ll be sure to keep you posted on any other ‘big fucking deals,’ should they happen.”

Peck bursts out into laughter. “That’s gold.”

“Coming,” Navie shouts down the bar. She taps the wood in front of me with her knuckle and grins. “Please don’t get into any trouble tonight. I don’t really have the money to bail you out.” She winks. “Come on, Machlan.” She grabs his arm and pulls him down the bar with her.

Peck toys with the label on his bottle and looks at me from the corner of his eye. “So …”

“So …”

We grin at the same time.

“Machlan is an asshole,” Peck says. “Just kind of ignore what he said.”

“No way. He said I was cute. I’m not ignoring that.”

Peck’s grin turns into a smirk. “He said you were hot. Not cute.”

His lips twist around like he’s not sure what to say next. I’m not sure either. I’m not sure I can talk because my temperature just spiked to a million degrees. But if I don’t say something and just sit here in all my feels, this could get weird.

“Well,” I say, “I’m okay with him thinking that too. It’s not bad for the ego to think a guy finds you attractive.”

“He’s not wrong, you know.”

Our gazes collide in the small space between our bodies. His smirk digs in deeper, pulling mine along with it.

The room gets hotter. His cologne stronger. My shirt feels like its plastered to my skin as I let Peck Ward taunt me with his eyes.

Dear lord.

He leans toward me. I’m not sure if it’s to whisper something he doesn’t want to be heard or if it’s … something else. But as I bend toward him, ready to accept either thing, the music overhead changes, and the bar erupts with chants of Peck’s name.

“Can you excuse me for one second?” He grins. “I’m being beckoned.”

Pulling back, he shoves a hand up in the air. The crowd roars loader.

The iconic song by Ginuwine that has absolutely nothing to do with a pony pulses through the building. Peck downs the rest of his beer and then hops up on the top of the bar.

My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him roll his hips as he plants his feet on the bar. He looks down, his hat over his forehead and hiding his face.