A False Start: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 4)
A False Start: Chapter 5

“Hey, you. Just as hot as I remember.”

Tommy is leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs that lead to my apartment with a wide boyish grin on his face. I dislike the familiarity of the way he talks to me, like we know each other well. The way his eyes rake over the floral off-the-shoulder shirt I’m wearing makes me want to squirm a little bit.

Sure, we made out a few times. Were a thing. Sort of. In the most casual sense of the word. But that was a couple of years ago now. And we haven’t maintained a friendship.

“Hi, one sec.” I dart back into the house when I realize it’s just cool enough out that I want to take a sweater with me.

He’s been relentless with asking me out, showing up at my work, saying we should give it another shot. That we’re good together. Which is a bit of a stretch in my book. We were never exclusive and seeing him hanging off one of the other girls in town never bothered me.

Not after that kiss with Griffin. Once I knew what a kiss could be, everything else just came up short.

Especially Tommy.

But Griffin isn’t a reality for me. First, he speaks to me with growls and grunts. I’m pretty sure he hates me. Second, and most important of all, he’s my brother’s best friend.

That’s a line that would be frowned upon crossing. No matter how heart-stopping the kiss was.

So here I am, taking Tommy to Sunday family dinner to see if we can be a thing for real this time. We’re both older now, more mature—or at least trying to be. I went off to school and so did he. Maybe a fresh start is what we both need.

“Okay, ready!” I round the corner and expect Tommy to be standing at the door, all golden blond locks and twinkly blue eyes. Happy-go-lucky and laid back are just what a girl like me needs to shine a little light on her dark past.

But he’s not waiting at the door.

I step onto the landing and peer down the stairs to see him sitting in his truck. Off to a good start. I roll my eyes. Couldn’t even handle waiting a couple minutes for me. I lock up and hustle down the stairs, already regretting agreeing to this.

He’s on his phone, engine already running when I get in. Doesn’t even look up.

Annoyance courses through me. I spent an entire lifetime in a house with a mother who believed a man every time he said he would change. I wonder if this is just part of my genetic make-up. Tommy says he’s changed, grown up. He’s going to business school so he can start his own company.

And I believed him.

So far, it seems like the joke is on me.

I don’t need him to roll out the red carpet. But telling me I’m hot and then ignoring me isn’t making me wet in the panties. The thought of locking myself down in a relationship is hard enough. Never mind with someone who annoys me within minutes of arriving. It seems like this is what I’m supposed to be doing, though, so I forge ahead.

“Ready?”

He chuckles and shakes his head at his phone. Like there’s something funny, and I’m not in on the joke. And then, without a word, he shifts into drive and pulls out of the driveway toward my brother’s house just five minutes down the road at Cascade Acres.

“Some of the boys are going out for drinks tonight.” He reaches to roll down the window. “Let’s meet them after dinner.”

He’s smiling. He looks happy and relaxed, excited to be home and off school for the summer, a perfect contrast to the stress coiling in my gut.

I don’t drink, and it’s a Sunday night.

“I have to work in the morning. I don’t think that’s going to work for me.”

“Ah, come on, Nadi. Don’t be a stick in the mud. You’re only young once.”

My arms fold across my chest. The problem is, I don’t feel that young after the shit I’ve lived through. “I like to start my week well-rested. If that’s what you’d like to do, I won’t stop you. I can hitch a ride back to the ranch with someone else.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes like I’m being ridiculous. “We’ll see. I’ve got a couple of hours to loosen you back up again.”

I turn my head, glance out the window, and say nothing. What I really want to say is, more like I only have to endure you for a couple more hours. But I’ve worked hard at taming that spark inside me, the one that lights easily and races across everything I touch. My temper can be a wildfire, and I hate to think where that aspect of me comes from, so I tamp it down.

We pull through the gates at Cascade Acres, and I direct him up to the house, all river rock and exposed lumber. It’s quite something, perched up on the hill overlooking the lake. Stefan sprinkled our mom’s ashes in that lake. I still don’t quite know how to feel about that.

Every Sunday, our friend group takes turns hosting dinner. I look forward to it every week. Our get-togethers have that family vibe I’ve dreamed about my entire life. The one that was not present with my much older brother gone and two alcoholic parents who fought non-stop. With a sperm donor who was heavy with his fists, something I escaped less and less the mouthier I got, the warm fuzzy feelings that most people attach to their childhood are foreign to me.

It’s been years since anyone has hit me. But I can still feel the burn across my cheek and the sting of tears across the bridge of my nose. I still have nightmares about cowering at his feet while he screams at me with my mother drunk and passed out on a couch somewhere.

I push those memories away once Tommy has parked and hop out without waiting for him. I just want to get into the safe haven that is my brother’s house, to be surrounded by all the people I’ve come to love and trust. To get away from the guy who calls me Nadi like he knows me well enough to use a shitty nickname.

I suck in a deep breath as my hand wraps around the front door handle. I’m being too hard on him. Tommy is sweet. Relaxed. He will be good for me. I just need to lighten up and act my age.

His warm palm lands on my shoulder and his friendly surfer-boy grin takes over his heart-shaped face. “Let’s go, babe.”

Babe.

I absently think to myself that Tommy is like a Golden Retriever. Cute and friendly, but just a bit dumb. Or a little too eager to please. But I stomp on those thoughts—it’s unfair to a Golden Retriever now that I think about it—and step into the house.

Music and laughter filter in from the open concept kitchen, echoing down the hall. These sounds in a house still make me do a double take. Four years ago, I would have never heard these sounds.

“Hi!” I call out as I toe off my shoes and head down the hallway toward everyone. “We’re here.”

“Come on in, sweetie.” Mira pops around the corner with a big bell of red wine in hand. “Your brother is cooking up a storm in here. I hope you’re hungr—”

Her head quirks as she takes in Tommy standing behind me. “You brought someone.”

“Yeah,” I worry at my bottom lip, realizing I should have told them before now. “Sorry. I hope that’s okay.”

Her full lips curl up as she studies Tommy. “Of course, of course.” She steps forward and holds her hand out to my date. “Hi, I’m Mira.”

“Tommy.” Even his voice sounds like he’s smiling as he claps his broad palm into hers. “Nice to meet you.”

She nods, but her head tilts, and her dark eyes dart between us. I love Mira. I love how she loves my brother. But goddamn, she is impossible to get a read on sometimes. “Come on in. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Then she swaggers back through the wood beam archway, waving us in over her shoulder.

“Nadia is here,” she announces to the room as she slides herself onto one of the stools at the oversized island. “And she brought a date.” My cheeks heat, and I momentarily inspect the ceiling, wishing the floor would swallow me up. This was my worst idea ever. “Everyone, meet Tommy.”

Tommy steps up beside me with a wave and a breezy, “Hey, Gang.”

It’s a dopey thing to say to a bunch of people you’ve never met, but I can’t pay attention to Tommy right now because I feel like there’s a collar around my neck, and someone just gave it a good, hard tug. I give myself over to that sensation, meeting the stony gaze of Griffin Sinclaire. He’s sitting at the dinner table, dark eyes drilling into me like he could grind me into dust if he stares hard enough. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Everyone is staring at Tommy and me, but I can’t take my eyes off Griffin. No hat, hair slicked back, looking fucking delicious. I’m immediately plunged back into our encounter in the bathroom.

Will that night never fade?

It’s then that I notice Silas, my nephew, is sitting beside him coloring. In fact, so is Griffin. His huge hand holds a small purple crayon while they draw an underwater scene on a plain sheet of paper together. Silas is bent over the page like some sort of prodigy. Tiny, chubby hand fisted around a blue crayon, so small next to the big mountain man seated beside him.

He must notice that Griffin has stopped coloring because his elbow juts out, nudging the inked arm beside him. “More fish,” he says simply, in his sugary baby voice. “Do a biiiig fish.”

It’s then that Griffin drops my gaze and leans into the little boy next to him and hits him with a soft, playful sort of smile. One that jabs me right in the ovaries. “Yes, boss,” he says, with more animation than I’ve ever heard him use. “How big? Shark big?”

Silas claps, grinning up at the man who has no business looking this good. No business looking this sweet. It’s almost more than I can take.

I plaster a smile on my face and turn away before I turn into a total puddle, focusing my attention back over on the rest of my friends spread throughout the living space. Billie, Violet, and Mira sitting at the island, Hank and Trixie playing with Cole and Violet’s two little girls in the adjoined living room, and Cole and Vaughn sitting with Griff at the table. Everyone acts like family, although the relations are a little convoluted by marriage, by blood, and by choice. Either way, it’s a tight-knit group and what we all have in common is Gold Rush Ranch.

I offer a wave. “Hi, everyone.” And then I walk into the kitchen, desperate for a drink to fix my dry mouth.

“Hi.” My brother Stefan peeks up at me with a smirk while he dices fresh rosemary into tiny pieces. The man could have been a chef if he wanted to. It’s the thing I miss the most about living with him. The gourmet cooking was hard to let go of when I moved out. “A date, huh?”

He keeps his focus down on the cutting board, but I’m not stupid enough to think he’s not having a good chuckle right now.

“Apparently.” I rip the fridge open and reach for my go-to flavored sparkling water. Pineapple.

“Come on, babe. Have a beer.” Tommy reaches over me and straight into the fridge like he owns the place.

I sneak a peek back at my brother and instantly want to wipe the amusement off his face when he silently mouths, “Babe?”

Head shaking, I turn back to Tommy. “I’m good. I don’t drink, remember?”

Beer in hand, he scoffs and leans against the island behind himself, blocking everyone else out of our conversation. “Still? I figured you’d have outgrown that phase by now.” His thick fingers crack open the can of beer, and he holds it up to me. “Come on. One little sip won’t hurt. Maybe I can whip you up something sweet instead. Margarita?”

My heart grows heavy, the hammering of it stretching out and pounding in my ears. I hate being put on the spot like this. There’s always this tiny voice in my head—a negative voice—that tells me other people know better than I do. Maybe Tommy is right, and I need to lighten up a bit.

Learning myself outside the confines of the house I grew up in is a constant struggle. I don’t trust other people easily, and what’s worse is I often don’t even trust myself.

“She said no.” A rusty voice caresses the back of my neck, and even if he’s barely ever spoken to me, it sounds familiar.

“Joking around, man. I’m Tommy.”

I turn just enough to see both men. Griffin doesn’t look like he finds the joke all that amusing. A muscle ticks in his jaw. In fact, if looks could kill, I think Tommy might keel over on the spot.

Where Tommy is bulky, broader, Griffin is powerful, muscles bulging only where it’s natural. Strength lines his limbs without appearing overwrought. He’s not in the gym bench pressing and doing deadlifts until his body shakes. He’s tossing hay bales and pounding fence posts, and that’s really working for him.

Tommy’s features are soft. Griffin’s are hard. Tommy is day. Griffin is night.

The two men could not be more opposite if they tried.

The older man tugs the yellow can out of my hand, cracks it open, and hands it back to me. All without saying a word. Then he shoves past Tommy and opens the fridge door in search of something for himself, effectively blocking us out.

I want to peek around the edge, get a better view of Griffin. He looks different tonight. No cap, inky hair styled, beard smoothed, white collared shirt rolled up just enough to show the black tattoos that adorn his forearms.

The man is an amusement park for my eyes.

“Who’s the asshole?” Tommy whispers.

My forehead wrinkles. I think Griffin is an asshole, but I have good reason. It bugs me that Tommy thinks he does. But I don’t go there. “Griffin. My brother’s best friend,” is all I mumble back.

“Griffin Sinclaire?” Tommy’s head whips around, seeking out the older man, brow furrowing in concentration.

“Yeah.” I shrug, confused about how he might know him.

“Like… the Griffin Sinclaire?”

“Uh, I don’t know what that means.” I sip my drink, sneaking a peek over at the big, brooding ball of muscle at the table.

“Like the famous quarterback who grew up in this town? And then got injured and disappeared?”

I raise an eyebrow at Tommy. Because the truth is, I know nothing about the man. And where I grew up, football is soccer. So, it’s not like I’d know. Plus, no one has mentioned it.

“Okay!” I jump at my brother’s loud clap. “Everyone at the table. Dinner is ready.”

Tommy’s hand lands on my back, and I force myself not to flinch. Tommy will be good for me. My eyes shift over my shoulder, sneaking one last peek at Griffin. My stomach flops when I see his eyes fixed on where Tommy is touching me.

I move to the beautifully set table, feeling nervous under his unwavering gaze. With its raw wood edge, the dining table has an industrial vibe that’s warmed up by bright white plates and brass-tone flatware. I search the modern black chairs and grab a spot beside Tommy. Easy, bright, sunshiny, Tommy. I need more bright days in my life.

Not more dark, broody nights.

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