Crazy (The Gibson Boys, #4)

by Adriana Locke

Her smile is too bright. Way too bright. Shit. “I didn’t know you were bringing a girlfriend,” she says. The happiness in her voice can’t be mistaken. I look at Dylan. She looks at me. And smirks. She’s getting way too much enjoyment out of

“Behave,” I mutter. But if she hears me, she ignores me.

My grandmother beams. I lean against the wall completely forgotten as this little mischief-maker wins over Nana. A chuckle passes my lips as I wonder what Nana would think if she heard the shit that usually comes out of Dylan’s mouth.

The sight of the woman who’s been like a semi-comfortable nail in the bottom of my foot chatting it up with my silver-haired grandma like they’re the best of friends is enough to make my head spin.

Our lips upturn at the same time. “You two lovebirds are too cute together,” Nana says. Dylan’s eyes fill with amusement. “We aren’t actually lovebirds.” “Oh, don’t start with me,” Nana says.

I wish I had a funny comment in my back pocket to whip out. That or something to redirect everyone’s attention from the fact that Dylan is looking at me. But I got nothing. This woman doesn’t know my nana from Adam, yet here she is offering her time and thoughts and energy five minutes after saying hello. Like I would or Walker or Sienna. Like family. “You would do that for me?” Nana asks.

My tongue is tied up, twisted around as I take in what’s happening. Dylan being so sweet to my grandmother, and Nana thrilled to have someone take an interest in something she values. “You didn’t overstep,” I tell her. “Not at all.”

My chest fills with a warmth that almost burns. “I can’t imagine anyone not loving your fuzzy personality,” I tease.

We both look at her. She rocks gently back and forth, a look of pure contentment on her face. “I think every firecracker needs someone to light their fuse for them to really glow.”

My gaze catches Dylan’s somewhere over the middle of the island. Slowly, our faces break into a smile as something is shared during the quiet exchange. Whatever it is, it ends with Dylan’s bright laughter.

They laugh like old friends as they plan the changes for the kitchen. I don’t think they even notice when I get up and slip out the back door. Planting my hands on the railing, I look at the dark sky. Stars are sprinkled above and shine down like Christmas lights twinkling softly.

My head is filled with so many thoughts. There’s a fullness in my chest that I can’t ease either. Seeing Dylan here—being so sweet to Nana and so damn pretty with a layer of orneriness just under the surface—is so confusing. Mostly because I like it. And I think I could probably get used to it, if I wanted to. “Easy, Peck,” I whisper. “Don’t get in over your head here.” Because I’m not. Yet. But I might be on my way if I don’t catch myself now.

the one I get every time I think about Peck and Nana and dinner in her little kitchen. Nana asking me questions like she really wanted to get to know me threw me for a loop. Sure, she did it because she thought I was Peck’s girlfriend, but still. She asked.

Peck is an anomaly, an unexpected layering of a man who is so much more than he appears. At first glance, he’s your typical good ole boy. An adorable class clown type who can’t be serious if he tried.

But seeing him care for his nana … how attentive he was, how gentle. And then how he quickly offered me a place to stay when he didn’t have to.

“Sorry,” Peck says. “I … um …” He forces a swallow as he takes in my body barely covered in a pair of short shorts and a tank top. “Guess I need to remember I’m not here alone anymore, huh?” Not if it stops you from walking around like that.

The corner of his lips turns up.

“Why don’t you have anyone here?” I ask softly. “I mean, I’m one-hundred percent sure you could have a girlfriend if you wanted one.” He shrugs. “Probably. I guess I could.” “So why don’t you?” “You’re pushy, you know that?” “I think you’ve known that since the day we met.” He laughs. “I think you’re right.”

I pull my legs up on the chair. His eyes whip to my legs as I draw them up. My body heats from the weight of his gaze, and I try not to melt into the chair. He looks up at me. “Why is a girl like you single?”

“Love should be based on mutual respect. A healthy love, anyway,” I say, thinking as I go. “I’m not sure you can be in love with someone who doesn’t open themselves up to you in the same way. Maybe you can love them, but not be in love with them. Those are two different things.”

We stand face to face, which is entirely too close considering he’s wearing practically nothing and looking delicious. The playfulness I usually see in his eyes vanishes, and an intensity takes its place. It steals my breath.

It’s futile. I know it. And by the look on Walker’s face, he knows it too. Fucker. “Oh, yeah?” I ask.

“So Nana’s not crazy. Got it,” Walker jokes. “Anything you wanna share?” “There’s nothing to share. I told Nana that.” I pick up the wrench. “Can’t I just take someone by for dinner?” “No.” It’s my turn to glare.

This is why you think before you speak. Or act. Or invite some woman you’ve been too interested in from the moment she marched her cute little ass your way and demanded you go buy cookware to your nana’s. If you just jump into shit, you end up in the kitchen in the middle of the night ready to kiss the hell out of her.

“Oh, good Lord.” I blow out a breath and stand. Facing Walker, I hold my hands out to the sides. “Can we make this quick? Someone is paying me to do a bunch of shit, and it won’t matter that you’ve wasted my fucking time today, he’ll be a dick at the end of the day if I don’t get enough done.” Walker grins. “He sounds like an asshole.” “He is.” “Better humor him then.” I shake my head.

I don’t dare tell him how hot she is. Or that I couldn’t sleep last night knowing she was in my house. Or that I had to get up extra early this morning to take care of myself in the shower so I didn’t walk around needing to jack off all damn day. But it’s not just that. Hell, I’ve been with other women over the course of my life, and I’ve not felt this way about any of them. I want to talk to her. Hear her laugh. Listen to her tease me. Answer questions that she poses that make me uncomfortable.

He’s being helpful. I know that. But something about that information just pisses me off. “I’ll tell her,” I bite out.

My chest rises and falls as I think about her. She’s dangerous. I feel the fire every time I’m around her. It’s like I’ve drunk a fifth of whiskey. My insides are squeamish, my body heated, and all I want to do is enjoy myself. That’s what she feels like. A fifth of whiskey.

“You know,” Walker says, his voice falling over his shoulder, “it’s okay to like her.” I smack the wrench off the frame of the truck. “What are you talking about?”

“What?” I ask, exasperated. “What the hell are you talking about?” “You saying there’s nothing between you two is calling me a dumb fuck because I’m not fucking blind, Peck. Neither is Nana.” “Nana just wants us all to get married and have babies so she doesn’t have to worry about us anymore.” He considers this. “Okay. That’s probably true. But she does have some fifth sense about shit, and she says you and Dylan are together.”

I grab the door handle and swing it open. “You’re a good guy.” He grins. “And if you tell a damn soul I said that, I’ll call you a liar.” I smirk. “I’m a good guy, huh? Is that why it bothers you so much that your girlfriend loves me?” He throws something in his hand my way. It whizzes by my head and sails across the street.

“I know. But I haven’t seen much of you since you left me for Peck.” She grins. “But I can’t say I blame you for that.”

He gives Navie a little wave and then sets his sights on me. His head bows as he searches my eyes.

think you look great.” I ignore the look in his eye and the riot inside me. He’s being kind. Period. Nothing more.

“Hey, roomie.” Peck’s voice is inches away from my ear. It makes me jump. He chuckles, taking the seat next to me. “Sorry it took so long. My brother showed up at Nana’s, so I got sidetracked. I haven’t seen him or his boy in a long time.”

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

“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.”

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

“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.

He thrusts his hips forward a couple of times before twisting his hat on backward. His eyes find mine immediately, and he grins. Raising a brow, I grin back. He laughs. I can’t hear it over the roar of the music, but I wish I could.

With a teasing little shrug of my shoulders, I turn away from him. He dances up against me as I sit back and shake my ass against him. A muffled groan hits my ear as his hands plant on my hips. We move together, in sync, his solid build up against me. His fingertips dig into my skin, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt and touching my body. My head rests against his chest.

He takes my arm and throws it behind me, over his neck. My fingers touch the dampness of his skin. He rolls against me. I press back. We move in a circle and end up facing the other way. The crowd roars as I bend forward and shake my ass his way. He bites his lip for effect, making me laugh, before pulling me against him once again. “Damn, Dyl,” he whispers in my ear. But I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear it. Instead, I look at him over my shoulder and wink.

An effortlessly sexy smile breaks out across his face, and I forget all about the crowd. “That was awesome,” he says. He doesn’t wait for my reaction. Instead, he hops down as the song comes to an end and takes my hand again. I give it to him without hesitation and let him help me down.

“You don’t dance too bad,” I say. “You either.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling a big, lopsided grin. My hand is still encapsulated by his when he looks down at them. “Guess I could let you go now,” he jokes. “I mean, you can,” I say. “Or just keep me close in case your fans want an encore.” His eyes light up. “Maybe I can instigate them into it.” “I have a feeling you could do that with very little effort.” He raises our interlocked fingers between us. We both watch as he separates our hands.

My heart thumps in my chest as if I just ran a marathon. Sweat dots my brow, and I wipe it off with the tail end of my shirt. What the fuck just happened? The smile on my face and throb in my balls will both stick around for a while. As a matter of fact, I doubt either will ease up until I figure out how to deal with Ms. Dylan Snow. I can still feel her skin in my hands—the smooth curve of her hip. The warmth of her body and the way it molded to my palms. Motherfucking hell.

Except that I crave that feeling—the one where every cell in my body feels alive when I’m next to

The bottle hits the bar top with a thud. “I don’t know what it means. I was just fucking around. But …” I look for Dylan again. “I’m not mad about it.” “It looked like you were pretty damn happy about it, if you ask me.” The corner of the label is nicked. I pick at it instead of looking at her. I suppose it’s obvious that I am pretty damn happy about it. How would anyone not be dancing with Dylan and having her enjoy it and not be pretty damn happy about it? I probably need to reel that in a little bit.

Magic. A smile plays against my lips. I don’t know what she means by that, exactly, but I know being around Dylan feels a little like magic. Special. Easy. Like something—anything—could happen at any given moment. And having her dance with me tonight—a stupid tradition I started years ago—was epically great, as she put it.

And that’s what this is, make no mistake about it. She saw Dylan and me, and she’s not happy about it. Good for her. Because tonight, for the first time maybe ever, I like how I’m feeling a whole hell of a lot more than I care about her being pissed off.

I expect her to leave, but to my amusement, she doesn’t. She sits on the stool to my right. I can’t fight a chuckle as Dylan stands her ground against a woman most women avoid.