Speakeasy (True North #5)(49)

“Your whole life has been leading up to this great moment,” Zara says. “You are weirdly good at this game.”

“It must be hereditary. Five kids in our family.”

My sister rolls her eyes, and Griffin ignores me. Same as it ever was.

My second turn goes just as well—three sperm go zinging into the hole. “I’m so turned on right now,” I joke. “What’s the prize for this? Oh wait, a b—” I catch myself just in time. “—fatherhood.”

Several women groan, because they just lost their chance to take my blue clothespin.

I step aside to let others try their luck. “Zach, call me if I need to face off against any other perfect scores.”

“Will do, man.”

May has disappeared, and I’m left standing next to Griffin—the wrong Shipley, to be sure. “How’s business?” he asks me, as always. Is everyone waiting for me to fail?

“Can’t complain.”

“Giltmaker wants me to invest in their new venture,” he says. “Opening a brewpub.”

Oh, fuck. “You’re kidding.”

“Lyle says if I take a share, they’ll stock Shipley Cider exclusively.”

Something goes wrong in my gut when I hear this. Because now I understand how this will play out. Griffin can’t afford to turn down that opportunity. Of course he’d want to align himself with one of the hottest breweries in Vermont.

I’m just a middle man that they can shove aside. I’m so screwed. The big guys will just keep raking in the cash, while the little guys scamper around at their feet hoping for scraps.

“You gonna do it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. I’m not exactly rolling in cash right now, but I can probably scrape together the cash.”

“Cool. Good luck,” I choke out. “Excuse me.” Feeling too grumpy for words, I make my escape. Or I try to. Zara’s house is more crowded than I would have thought possible. Ruth Shipley herds Audrey into the den to open some gifts, and I can’t seem to find May.

Then I spot her near the beverage table. That would be no big deal, except some doofus in a Christmas sweater is making time with her. He’s wearing a big smile, which May returns politely.

And just when I thought I couldn’t get any grumpier.

Mr. Sweater does that thing where you touch her wrist as you make your point. Just a light touch, to let her know you’re into her. Then he follows that up with the quick palm to her elbow on his next punchline. My hands are available to touch your body.

It’s sleazy. I know, because I’ve done it a million times.

And now I’m seething. Benito is a cop, so I know murdering Mr. Sweater would be a poor life choice. But I’m still considering it.

I must not be subtle, either, because May shoots me a weird look.

Maybe it’s the clenched fists by my sides.

Sweater Guy listens intently while May tells him a story. He’s staring at her like no other girl exists on the planet. He even leans in, as if to hear her better.

In contrast, I’m the only guy in the room she won’t stand close to. And that’s why I’m feeling so irritable right now. What the fuck is so wrong with me that I’m a big secret?

The Shipleys don’t pair up with the Rossis, I once told my heartbroken sister. That’s not how it works.

The joke is on me now. It’s not like I forgot the rules. May and I aren’t supposed to be a real couple. But standing here, watching another dude give her the sneaky arm touch again, I’m unsettled. This is kind of a problem.

I realize I’m falling for her.

Fuck.

Just as this thought settles into my thick head, the tool in the bright sweater leans forward and hugs her. And May wraps her arms around his neck and closes her eyes.

And it splinters me. That hug should be mine.

Man down! I’m officially a goner. I’ve just become one of those guys I used to mock—the kind who suddenly decide that spending an evening at home cuddling the girlfriend on the sofa is just as interesting as a night out with the guys. I’m whipped, apparently. And happy about it.

So this is how the other half lives.

Before I know it, I’ve already crossed the room to tap her on the shoulder. “Need anything?” I ask through a tight jaw. “A soda? I’m getting something for myself.”

May and Sweater Guy break apart. And then they both look at me like I’m crazy. As do several other bystanders.

“I don’t need a drink just now,” May says, giving me an icy look.

“Well,” the guy says slowly. “It was good to see you, May. I’ll just…” The rest of the sentence is lost as he walks away and then exits the room.

“What was that?” May hisses.

“What was what?”

Her eyes get huge. “The whole caveman thing.”

“I just offered you a drink. That’s all.”

May blinks. “You’re jealous.”

“Maybe a little bit.” More like a metric shit ton. “Is that a problem?”

“Can we not talk about this right here?”

“But what’s wrong with right here?” I know I’m not a catch. But I don’t have Ebola, either.

We stand there for a long minute glaring at each other. We don’t stop until something small crashes into my legs. The projectile turns out to be my niece, Nicole.