Dirty Rowdy Thing (Wild Seasons, #2)(38)

I manage to snag it back before he can return it to his wallet. “So these are your brothers, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Finn is in the middle, with his father and the youngest brother, Levi, on one side, and the middle brother, Colton, on the other. It’s clear they’ve received some direction: Finn’s dad looks welcoming, laid-back. Levi is beaming, an open book, whereas Colton is making sex eyes at the camera. Finn looks no-nonsense and world-weary. All four men in the picture are completely, ridiculously good-looking.

“Well, thanks for this. I might need to go home and masturbate for the rest of the evening.”

“You know, if a guy said that, it would be super creepy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Poodle. Does the sexual double standard make you grumpy?”

He laughs dryly. “You’re a pain in the ass, Ginger Snap.”

“So, the Adventure Channel wants you basically for a dating show.”

“No. It’s meant to be a gritty peek into our lives as fishermen and—”

“Does it say that on the back of the Glamour Shot?” I flip it over, pretending to look.

“Harlow.”

“Finn.” I turn the picture back over and point to it. “Look at you guys. You’re, what? Thirty-two?”

“Yeah.”

“And Colton is how old?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“And Levi?”

He sighs. He’s bagging what I’m raking, clearly. “Twenty-four.”

“I bet there’s a clause in the contract they showed you that you can’t be in a committed relationship when filming begins.”

His eyes go wide. “How would you know that?”

“Are you kidding? My mom has been offered a spot on a reality show a few times. They always have something in there about relationships. So you don’t think this show is really about filming your bulging biceps on the boat and then getting you shirtless and hooking up with coeds?”

“You aren’t helping. I already don’t want to do this.” He steals a few of my tater tots. “But my brothers think it will be a trip. It’s like they don’t really understand how it will change their lives. Colt is always sleeping with someone different. Levi . . . I swear I think he’s a virgin.”

I look at the sandy-haired hottie in the picture. “Okay, you’re high. If this guy isn’t putting out left and right, there is no God, Santa, or Easter Bunny.”

He waves me off. “Whatever. I just don’t think we’d make very good television.” His argument is so weak, even he can tell. He winces at my gaping shock, looking away.

“You’re kidding, right?” I ask him. “A manwhore hottie, a virgin hottie, and the hottest older brother who’s clearly too busy for love? This is a television producer’s wet dream. This show practically writes itself.”

As if relenting, he says quietly, “They’re laying it on pretty thick. Two-season commitment to start, they bought my truck just as a good-faith gesture, and they’ll repair our main two boats and get us a new one.”

I let out a low whistle. “Wow. So you’re upset because a huge television studio wants to give you oodles of money? Poor baby. Why aren’t you jumping on this?”

He looks at me, and it’s his turn to be incredulous. “I like my life, Harlow. It isn’t cushy, and we’re always sort of scraping by, but I chose this for a reason. I like my little house on the water, and working on the boat and cracking jokes with my brothers and those days where we get an unreal haul.

Those days make all of the slow ones totally insignificant.” He looks away, running his thumbnail down a groove in the table. “The idea of a crew coming on and filming us twenty-four hours a day for three days a week makes me nauseous.”

“What do Oliver and Ansel think about it?” I ask.

“They don’t know.”

“I know something they don’t?” I crow.

He shrugs. “It’s hard to discuss this choice with my best friends. I’m in the middle of this crazy decision, but in two years I may look back and think, Why did I even consider this? I don’t want to mull it over with people who will be in my life every day if I realize only later how pathetic it all seems. Does that make sense?”

So he’s not expecting me to be in his life in two years? Okay. This one stings and I tilt my beer to my lips, looking away. “Makes total sense.”

“Shit,” he whispers, seeming to register how that sounded. “You know what I mean.”

And in all honesty, I do. I haven’t told him about my mom, either. I don’t need Finn’s support, and I like that being with him is just an easy place for me to inhabit. Maybe he likes that, in the long run, my opinion doesn’t matter much.

I mentally shake off my minor offense and smile at him. “I know it probably sounds like a complete one-eighty from your life right now, but it could bring opportunities you’ve never considered. It would give your company name a brand, and—”

“Or make us a joke.”

“And,” I say, ignoring him, “they’re giving you a boat? I know less than nothing about commercial fishing but I bet those cost as much as a house in La Jolla.”

“Not too far off,” he agrees. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure the boat they buy for us would ever feel mine, either. It is, literally, selling out. But you haven’t run away laughing, so I guess it’s not insane for me to be putting some thought into it.”