That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(72)

But hell, it feels like every muscle in my body is aching, and it probably doesn’t help that I spent the last night trying to figure out the best way possible to have Eve in my truck. My back and my ass are sore where the long gearshift kept poking me. On the actual butt cheek—not inside, you perverts.

My phone beeps on the counter, so I wrap the towel around my waist and check it.

Griffin: Wow, are they tearing down the whole building over there? It’s really fucking loud.

Chuckling, I type back.

Reid: Only for the first two days. Demo won’t take very long and then it’s a matter of putting everything together.

Brig: I could hear it from the garage.

Rogan: You also said you could hear it while getting coffee, and insisted it was so loud you couldn’t concentrate on your order.

Brig: I have supersonic ears, like a rabbit. When you fools don’t think I can hear you talking about me, I do.

Reid: It’s because we talk loud enough so you can hear what we’re saying.

Brig: So you’re being rude, just to be rude? How did we grow up in the same household?

Rogan: I ask myself that same question every day.

Griffin: Did Dad like the plans?

Reid: Loved them. He actually cried. It was weird but also felt really good.

Brig: You made Dad cry? How did you hold it together? I would have been bawling like a baby.

Griffin: We know.

I’m about to respond when there’s a knock at my door. I set my phone down and look out the window and around the corner, catching a glimpse of Eric. Grateful it’s not a curious neighbor, I keep a firm hold on my towel, walk over to the door, and open it.

“Hey,” I say as a greeting, but it barely falls off my lips as I take in the pure rage marring his features.

Oh.

Shit.

“Is it true?” he asks through his teeth, seething as he bursts into my house.

I shut the door quickly. “Is what true?” Because why not stall a little bit longer?

From his back pocket he pulls out an old newspaper clipping, the one announcing my official relationship with Eve. The same article I was chuckling over just a couple of weeks ago.

Fuck.

Brandishing it in front of me, he repeats himself, “Is it true? I found this in Eve’s kitchen when I was cooking.”

I can’t hold back the wince on my face or ignore the feeling of being caught red-handed, so I just come out with it.

“It is.”

He crumples the newspaper and starts pacing the floor. “And when were you going to fucking tell me? Never?”

“No, not never. We were waiting.”

He shakes his head and turns on me, jabbing his finger in my face. “End it. End it right fucking now.”

“What?” I take a step back. “I’m not going to end it with Eve.”

“The fuck you aren’t. Do you not remember what happened the last time? You don’t mix business with pleasure, Reid. I would have assumed you would take your own advice, the advice you gave me over three years ago.”

“This is different,” I snap back.

“Because it’s you?” He shakes his head. “It’s a distraction—for both of you. I love my sister more than anything, and I want to see her succeed. You’re a moody motherfucker who can flip at the drop of a hat. You need to focus on the restaurant, and she needs to focus on the business, on school, on becoming the woman she has been working so goddamn hard to become. She doesn’t need you and your drama and impulsiveness getting in the way.”

“Wow, good to know you think so highly of me,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. But despite my stance and the strength in my voice, Eric’s words instantly start to eat away at my resolve.

Since Eve and I have been together, I have been moody, unpredictable, a bastard at times, and she’s always been forgiving, understanding, and patient. How much more can she take, though? This restaurant won’t be easy—there will be really hard days, arguments—and I’m probably going to take it out on her. Will I push her away like I did before? I can’t guarantee I won’t. And strong as she is, I know my moods affect her. I can hardly admit it to myself, but I know it’s true. I love her—so much—but what if Eric is right, and I end up derailing her entire future?

Then there’s the issue that’s been plaguing me ever since Eve came into the Lobster Landing looking for fudge: she’s driven and hardworking; she knows exactly what she wants in life and has taken the steps to accomplish it despite every speed bump and roadblock life has thrown her way. She doesn’t give up. But I do, and I could see her finding that a huge weakness—one I’m not sure I could ever overcome.

“End it. Today,” Eric says.

“And what if I don’t?”

His eyes narrow. “Then I’m out. And you and I both know you don’t want to do this without me.”

I fucking hate that he’s right.

I run my tongue over my teeth and meet his gaze. “It’s not a fling for me, Eric. She’s more than that.”

“And she’s been dicked over by guys in the past—even guys who cared about her. I would know since I was one of them. She needs this, this job, this opportunity. And you need this. What’s going on between the two of you is a distraction that none of us need. You saw what happened last time with Janelle. Relationships blind you; they muddy the waters, affect your decision-making, and we can’t have that. But if you won’t end it for us, end it for your dad. We can’t fuck this up for him.” And there it is, the one thing—besides Eve—that will bring me to my damn knees: mentioning my dad. “End it before it goes any further. It’s better this way, and I know my sister. She’ll act like a professional and move on.”