green eyes and the shimmer of red hair stole across his mind. Wanting to impress her. Wanting to keep drinking. His two main objectives from late last night. Now, in the harsh light of morning, he realized how stupid and impulsive he’d been.
Again.
Most of the trouble—and there was a lot of it—Scott had in life was a result of being impulsive. He led with his emotions, anger being the top of that list. Normally, he wouldn’t let himself slow down enough to care about the consequences. But the botched arrest two months ago, a direct result of his poor judgment, had put him on the sidelines of his own life. It drove him crazy, although he wouldn’t have that discussion with Sam.
“I know you’re still getting a paycheck and Dad says you’ve done well on investments, but it’s a lot of cash, Scott. What are you going to do when you go back to the Marshal Service? I don’t want to see you throw your money away like this.”
Sam was the by-the-book brother, the one who’d always done the right thing. The responsible Callahan. At least, that was how it had been after their mother died. But a lot of years had passed since then. Scott was a grown-up now and he wasn’t about to admit that he’d messed up yet again.
“I bought a bar. So what?” He threw the towel onto the floor by the couch and combed his hands through his hair. “I can afford it.”
“That’s not the point,” his brother argued.
“Sam, I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to you, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.” He walked past his brother and down the short hall to the bar’s main room. He couldn’t let Sam see how in over his head he felt. He’d done a lot of stupid things in his life, but last night might take the cake. What had felt warm and inviting then now just looked in need of a good scrubbing. The wood floors were scratched and dull and the tables mismatched, several sporting a layer of grime years thick. The place definitely had more charm in the half dark.
“I don’t have much of a reason to trust you, and I definitely don’t trust Lexi Preston.”
Scott spun around, then winced as the abrupt movement made his head hurt more. “What about Lexi?” he asked, not willing to address the issue of trust between him and Sam this early in the morning.
“She represented the family who tried to take away Charlie from Julia.”
“I don’t understand.” Scott had immediately fallen for Julia’s toddler son. He didn’t know Julia well, but it was clear she was a natural mother. “I thought the ex-boyfriend’s family was from Ohio. What’s the attorney doing in Brevia? Julia got full custody.”
Julia had been embroiled in the custody case when she and Sam were first together. Being with Julia had stopped Sam from taking a job Scott had helped arrange for him with the U.S. Marshals. It had been Scott’s big attempt to repair his relationship with his brother, and it had felt like one more rejection when Sam had chosen Julia instead. Scott hadn’t quite forgiven her for that, but it hadn’t prevented him from forming a quick affection for the boy.
Sam shook his head, frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders. “I don’t understand, either. She got to town yesterday with some sob story about how she needs a fresh start. Julia may talk tough but she’s a total softy at heart. She helped Lexi get the job and is renting the woman her old apartment.”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” Scott asked, his mind suddenly on sharp alert. Julia was family now. He protected family, even if his methods were sometimes unorthodox.
Sam shook his head. “I want that woman to stay away from all of us. I don’t like the fact that she was involved in this mess with you.”
Scott bristled at Sam’s condescending tone. “I told you, I can take care of myself. I don’t know if she has ulterior motives coming to town, but Lexi Preston didn’t influence my decision to buy this bar.”
“She let you enter into a contract when you were drunk.”
“Who said I was drunk last night? Maybe I bought this place as an investment. It’s an historic building and—”
“You’re not fooling me. I know the Marshals incident messed with your head. I know you’ve been drinking more than normal and your normal is pretty damn much.” Sam took a step closer. “I think you need help.”
Blood roared through Scott’s head. He hadn’t been back in Brevia twenty-four hours and Sam was already starting another referendum on how messed up he was. He couldn’t afford to debate whether it was true. Not yet.
“Get out.” He spoke the words slowly, without any of the emotion swirling through his gut.
“Scott, listen—”
“No, Sam, you listen.” Scott began straightening chairs around the various tables, needing something—anything—to do with his hands. Needing to take some action. “The incident didn’t mess with my head. It killed a good man. Maybe I use alcohol to dull the memories of that more than I should. But I’m not out of control. I walked away when it was clear that part of the internal investigation meant me smearing my dead partner’s reputation. I don’t know right now if I’ll go back. So I bought this place. It’s an investment. Not one that you would make, but it’s my money and my life. Back off. Go home to Julia and Charlie. I don’t need you here.”
The sound of the chairs scraping against the wood floor gave welcome relief to the silence that stretched between the brothers. Finally, Scott stopped and looked over. “I mean it. I’m fine.”
Sam gave a curt nod. “I’m here, Scott. When you do need me, I’m here.” He turned and walked out of the bar into the bright morning.
As the door swung shut behind him, Scott turned a chair around and sank into it, massaging his forehead with two fingers.
What the hell was he going to do now?
* * *
Lexi tried to ignore the pounding on the apartment door. As she stared, arms folded tightly across her chest, the noise grew. Had her father had a change of heart already, prepared to forgive her supposed lapse in judgment if she came home and continued to do his bidding? It was late morning and she’d already unpacked her few belongings and made a run to the local grocery for essential supplies. As silly as it seemed, she’d just gotten a taste of freedom and didn’t want to give it up so soon.
She also didn’t want her neighbors to worry or, worse, call Julia or Sam. Taking a fortifying gulp of air, she turned the knob and opened the door.
Oh.
Oh, dear.
Scott Callahan loomed in the doorway, irritation and a healthy five-o’clock shadow etched on his handsome face. He was still wearing the same casual sweater and wrinkled jeans from the night before. She looked for the resemblance to Julia’s husband, Sam, figuring it was too much of a coincidence to have two Callahans in the same small town.
She’d been shocked when he’d told her his name as she was putting together the contract for sale last night. Although Scott’s hair was dark, the two men shared the same brilliant blue eyes, strong jaw and towering height that made them both intimidating and undeniably male.
She took an involuntary step back, hating the
