The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(2)

“The very one. I’ll let you Netflix it on my account.”

“You should really stop verbing nouns. I’m not giving up my boycott based on moral principles for a show named after poop. Not even for Eugene Levy. What’s it about?”

“A dad buys a town for his son as a joke, but the family ends up living there when they lose everything. Sound a little autobiographical?”

He chuckles. “Actually, yes. Considering I bought this town for my sons. Well, all of us, really. But especially you boys.”

“Christmas is months away, and even if it were closer, none of us asked for a whole town in their stocking.”

Tank shakes his head like he’s disappointed in my lack of understanding. “It’s for the brewery.”

I shake my head. “James won’t like it.”

“James hasn’t seen it.”

“Unless it’s a town somehow located within the Austin city limits, James won’t be on board. And because you did this without even asking him, he’ll say no on principle.”

We may call the fledgling Dark Horse Brewery a family business, but it’s my oldest brother James’s baby. His idea, his award-winning brews. The rest of us are more like investors. Mostly the silent kind, since James doesn’t love input.

He is notoriously control freaky about everything from the kinds of barrels he brews in to the farms used to source the hops. James is NOT going to be okay with Dad making a unilateral decision about location for the planned expansion.

Especially considering the fact that wherever this town is, it’s not in Austin. First, my whole family lives here. Other than the few years Collin and I played pro football in various cities, we’ve all stuck close to home. I think losing Mom so young bonded us uniquely together. We’re not just family, but best friends.

Second and maybe more importantly, Austin is a city filled with people ready to drop their cold, hard cash on fancy microbrews. The college kids, the foodie snobs, those busy keeping Austin weird, and even Gen X-ers still partying like it’s literally 1999—they all like beer. Especially good beer. Custom stuff with fancy names and delicately layered flavors, which, it turns out, James is a genius at developing.

I’m honestly a little envious at how my older brothers have found ways to monetize their unique skill sets. James has Dark Horse, Collin has his gym for elite athletes (where Harper also works), and I have … I don’t even know what. My sparkling personality? My keen wit? My ability to binge several seasons of a TV show in a week?

I’m still trying to figure my life out at twenty-seven. I’ve yet to find something that holds my attention for more than a few months. Thankfully, because of a few years of pro ball salary and smart investments, I don’t need to worry about finances. But it doesn’t help scratch the itch of restlessness I’ve felt since my career ended.

“We can get James on board,” Tank says.

I don’t miss the we, like he already thinks I’m on Team Tank.

“The location isn’t so far from Austin,” he continues. “The town needs a little TLC, but once we fix it up—”

“Let me stop you right there.” I hold up a hand. “The town needs TLC? Like, the whole town you bought?”

“It’s a little past its glory days,” Tank admits. “But nothing we can’t fix up. I think it will be fun.”

“Fun is taking a family trip to Cancun or a cruise to the Bahamas. Fun is an all-you-can eat brisket buffet. Fun is poker night. Fixing up a whole town does not sound like a good time.”

Tank only grunts, crossing his arms and giving me a dark look. Shut up, Patrick, I tell myself, because I can tell that with every word coming out of my mouth, he’s only getting more stubborn about this whole thing. But restraint is not in my wheelhouse.

“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You bought a town to house the brewery, and you want us all to fix it up HGTV style?” Tank nods. “But you didn’t think to ask us first?” He nods again, and I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have watched all those renovation shows with you. Now they’ve got you thinking you can just up and Joanna Gaines a town.”

“What did I say about nouns as verbs, son?”

I ignore him and pull out my phone to call in the reinforcements, aka my siblings. I’m not doing anyone any favors by running my big mouth.

Our dad has dug in his heels, and at this point, I think it may take all of us to pull the stubborn old mule off this idea. I open the group text with Collin, James, Harper, and her husband. Chase has a way of keeping us all calm. Or, at least, calmer. Our fistfights have decreased by at least seventeen percent since Chase joined the family.

Before I can type so much as a scared-face emoji or 9-1-1, Tank snatches the phone out of my hand. “Don’t tell your brothers. Not yet.”

“Give me my phone, Pops.” When he slides it into the back pocket of his jeans, I groan. “This isn’t the kind of decision you make alone. Or with just me. We’re all involved here.”

“I need you to see it first. That’s why I asked you to come over.”

“I thought you needed help moving furniture.”

“It was a ruse,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Clearly.”