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Best Kind of Trouble -
Bonus epilogue 

Liam

It’s late spring, and even though it’s perfect outside—the ideal weather to sit out in the beer garden at Silver Star Brewery and plot world domination—Briar and I are on a double date with Hannah and Travis.

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Yes. You read that correctly, unfortunately.

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When my sister asked if we’d “be down” to double date, my first answer was obviously, “Absolutely not, what the fuck are you thinking?”

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So she did the smart thing, which sisters like to do, and asked Briar instead.

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I have trouble saying no to Briar, which is why we’re bowling with them.

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Yes, bowling. This place is packed with laughing high schoolers and smells worse than the Ring Your Bell Boxing Gym.

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Ollie is at Travis and Hannah’s house, and Eugene and Moira are a babysitting for him. So it’s possible he’s having a worst time than I am.

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“Stop looking so miserable,” Briar tells me with a soft smile, nudging my shoulder. She’s sitting beside me in the rounded booth facing our lane, which is the best thing about bowling so far.

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Her hair is a good six inches shorter than it was when I met her. She started seeing a therapist she likes, and they decided together that she was going to break the remaining power her high school bully had over her by getting a more significant trim. I’m beyond fucking proud of her, and yes, I’d do anything for her.

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“You love your sister,” Briar says with a smile, her eyes glinting with pleasure. She loves that we’re here with them, bowling, so I can’t hate it—even if the stubborn side of me wants to try.

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I kiss the side of her face. “I love you.”

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“Oh. My. Gahd,” Hannah says in over-the-top disgust as she pads back to the table in her bowling shoes. “Are you being lovey-dovey again? This is why I told you this could never happen, but no, both of you see off-limits as an invitation.”

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“Pot, kettle.” I gesture to Travis, who’s sitting on the other side of the booth. After all, he was her boss not too long ago, when she took a temporary nannying job to help with his son Ollie.

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She shrugs, sliding in next to him. “So we’re both bad at following directions. It’s a Moroney family trait.”

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“You know,” I say, “it’s shameful to seduce your boss.”

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Briar laughs and swats my arm.

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“I wasn’t talking about you, Boss. I was the one who seduced you.”

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“It was more of a mutual seduction,” Briar objects.

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“I need bleach for my ears,” Hannah says happily.

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“You’ll be relieved to know that I’m the one who seduced your sister,” Travis adds with a shit-eating grin.

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Hannah guffaws as if he’s said something very funny. “That’s what you think.”

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“Ceasefire,” I say, offering Hannah my pinky from across the table. We promise to shut up about all things related to seduction, then Hannah reminds me that it’s my turn to bowl.

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Truthfully speaking, I am not good at bowling. Blunt force is more my thing than strategic rolling.

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“Be gentle,” Briar tells me, her expression full of sweet encouragement.

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I have to smile as I approach the lane, knowing the ball’s probably going to go down hard, same way it has every other time I’ve tried to make a strike.

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But after I pick it up, Briar walks up behind me, pressing her body to my back and layering her arm over mine.

“Gentle,” she whispers in my ear.

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I don’t have a sudden appreciation for bowling, but I am in danger of getting a hard-on in a bowling alley. In front of my sister and her boyfriend.

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“Aim for the arrows this time,” Briar says, her voice traveling through me like the vibration from a tuning fork, “not the pins.”

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I’m reminded of the first time I brought Briar to Bell’s Gym, only this time our situations are reversed—I’m shit at bowling, and she’s the bowling champ. Likely because she’s good at this whole being gentle business.

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“I don’t know about helping me knock down the pins,” I murmur under my breath, “but you’re doing all kinds of other things for me.”

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She laughs, her body still pressed against mine, which isn’t helping my…uh…situation.

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“Should we leave you two and the bowling ball alone?” Travis calls out, which suggests he’s been spending far too much time with my sister.

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“Yes,” I say, “and thanks for asking.”

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Briar keeps her hand layered over mine, guiding it as I get into position and release the ball.

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And I’ll be damned—it’s a strike.

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I turn toward her, and she looks so damned excited I have to smile. “Look at you, being my lucky charm again.”

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I haven’t lost a single boxing practice round, let alone a match, since we fucked against the ring. The memory of her holding on to those ropes, staring at me with need in her eyes, gives me something to fight for. Each and every time.

She wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight, and I feel something loosen in my chest, the way it always does when we’re together.

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“Get a room!” Hannah calls.

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“Does that mean we get to leave?” I ask, pulling back but grinning.

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My girl pokes me in the chest. “No. I was promised pizza.”

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“And you’ll have it. But I’m warning you right now that you might regret your choice. I overheard the high school kids say it tastes worse than cafeteria pizza.”

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“The pizza in my cafeteria was always really good.”

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Because she went to a fancy-ass boarding school, where the food was high-end but they let the kids bully the shit out of each other. The thought makes me want to grumble again, but I press my teeth together and keep the grievance to myself.

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We still have to see her parents regularly, something no one involved enjoys, but her father is just as stubborn as I am—and no one on heaven or earth could get him to remove attending Friday night dinners from the agreement that granted Briar Silver Star Brewery. So we show up, every week, and try to think of different ways to get them to give us the boot for good.

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Hannah slips past us, bowls a split, and somehow manages to get the remaining pins down with the next hit.

We go another few rounds before ordering our crappy pizza.

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And, fine, I’ll admit it—it’s pretty fucking fun, heaving heavy balls at the pins, hanging out together over bad pizza and beer far inferior to what any of us are used to.

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We’re still sitting around talking when my phone buzzes. I check the screen out of habit—Briar and I have only just gotten the brewery back on track after her father’s little game last New Year’s, and we get jumpy about unexpected texts.

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But it’s Cormac.

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Cormac: This is embarrassing, but you said you owed me a favor for the whole breaking and entering thing. Do you think you could find me a date for the wedding?

Cormac: Ideally someone who won’t get drunk and ask to make a speech.

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A surprised laugh gusts from me.

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Shit, I’d made a pact with myself never to get roped into any future matchmaking after Otis asked me for help winning Briar over (obviously I didn’t do so good for him). But Cormac has a point—he stepped up for me, and it would only be fair for me to do the same for him.

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The wedding he’s talking about is his father Eugene’s wedding to Moira, which is about a month away.

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I flash the phone at Briar. “Do you know anyone other than Nora who’s single?”

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She smiles at me. “You think he’d go with Ann?”

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I laugh. “Ann would be an exceptional wedding date.”

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Hannah, who never caught wind of gossip without wanting every last detail, leans in. “Are you talking about lotto tickets Ann? Because, hell yes, she was telling me all about online dating in her eighties, and let me tell you right now—whoever this guy is, he’s in for a treat.”

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“Cormac,” I say, and she laughs.

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“Definitely send him with Ann. Nora would laugh her ass off.”

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Technically speaking, Cormac and Nora are about to be step-siblings, which is amusing since they’re both around thirty and have disliked each other since high school.

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“But I like Cormac,” I argue.

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“And we like Ann,” Briar says, leaning her shoulder into mine. “But, yeah, I guess we should start by trying to find him someone he might be interested in romantically. Everyone deserves to find their other half.”

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“I don’t think I’m well-equipped to help him make nice with people,” I say, raising my eyebrows.

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“BS,” she argues. “Last night, you had a fifteen-minute conversation with Dottie about crystals.”

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I roll my eyes. “She talked at me for fifteen minutes. That doesn’t mean it was a conversation.”

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Silver Star has only been open again for a couple of months, and even though Dottie and Ann don’t need to work anymore—being that they’re at least fifteen years past the age of retirement—they’ve said they like coming in. It “keeps them young.”

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Since Dottie’s partner, Bear, likes having her around, he’s taken to coming in a couple of times a week too. He always brings cupcakes, so he’s a welcome addition to our crew, but goddamn can the two of them talk.

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“Uh-oh,” Hannah says, walking two fingers off the edge of the table. “There goes your tough guy reputation.”

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“Oh well,” I say with a shrug. “I guess I never had much use for it.”

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I wrap an arm around my girl, who’s smiling at me, and you know what? I feel like a man who’s on top of the world.

I don’t at all mind the thought of reaching down to help a brother up.

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So even though I’m a shit matchmaker, I’ll do my best for Cormac, same as I did my best to listen to Dottie last night.

Because when you’re in love with a woman like Briar, it’s hard not to be in love with life.

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Even at a bowling alley.

 

Be sure to check out Cormac and Nora’s story, Worst Faking Idea!

It releases in May, and you can preorder it here:

 

Open door - 

May 11-13

Apple

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Google Play

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May 14

Amazon

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Closed door - 

May 14

Amazon 

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