Free Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) by Tracey Alvarez Page B

there’s the wedding, I guess.”
    “I’ll show up on the day, don’t worry.”
    “You can’t just do that!” She gaped at him, her hand stilling on the countertop. “You’re meant to organize suit fittings and the toasts—I assume you’ve gotten your speech prepared?”
    “Ben can do a speech—he’s West’s best buddy.”
    “But West is your brother.”
    “Ben’s known him longer. Besides—” Del shrugged, opening a second spread sheet on the screen. He wasn’t prepared to discuss his complicated feelings for his older brother with her. “I’ve got plenty of time to write it.”
    “Typical guy. Leave everything to the last moment then improvise.”
    Shaye pursed her lips in a scowl and threw the dishcloth at the plastic-lined hamper by the far end of the counter—goddamn, she nailed it, too!
    “Yeah, yeah.” He tried to concentrate, but the numbers kept dancing across the page. The woman had thrown him off his game.
    Huffing out a sigh, he slapped the laptop screen shut. If she wanted to talk about the wedding, they’d talk about the damn wedding.
    “So Ms. Harland. Got a date for the big day?”
    “Yes.” She rolled down the sleeves of her chef’s jacket and avoided his gaze.
    Liar. Either that or her choice of date embarrassed her.
    “Anyone I know?”
    And no, he wasn’t checking out the competition—just mildly curious. How many single men could this town have? Granted, any straight, single male would have to be a moron not to try to score an evening with Shaye in a pretty party dress with bountiful free booze on offer.
    “No.” She flicked him a glance from under her lashes. “Have you got a date?”
    The prospect of finding a date for West’s wedding made his gut curdle. “Nope. I’ll be going solo.”
    She snorted softly—a buckshot-loaded sound. Which meant what? Where to find a female translation manual when you needed it?
    Fraser returned, his crate loaded with dishes, and set to rinsing and stacking. The silence following Shaye’s little snort grated along his nerves.
    “You know, we used to hang out. As kids,” he said.
    “No. You hung out with my brother and sister. I was a boring bookworm who sometimes tagged along.”
    Ah. So she remembered the flippant comment he’d made back when he’d thought snapping a girl’s training bra was the ultimate form of flirtation. Before he could figure out whether he should apologize for being a little snot, West strode into the kitchen.
    “Poker game starts in an hour,” he said by way of greeting. “Shaye’s boyfriend is closing up tonight.”
    Del’s fingers clamped around the pen and it flexed dangerously. Holy shit—she hadn’t lied? “Her boyfriend?”
    “Our bartender,” replied West. “The reason why so many local women come for Happy Hour. Drooling over Kip makes them very happy. Right, Shaye?”
    Shaye whipped off her apron and hung it on the row of hooks. “Absolutely. The man is a stone-cold fox.”
    “You’re dating the bartender?”
    Her lips tightened into a wafer-thin line.
    “She won a dinner with him at the charity bachelor auction earlier in the year,” said West. “It didn’t work out—no chemistry.”
    Shaye sent West a look that should’ve set his eyebrows on fire.
    “What? Are you like my dating adviser now? We had a nice time.” She addressed the statement to them both, baring her cute little teeth.
    West snickered.
    Big brother—completely oblivious to the undercurrents circling the room.
    “You said it was like having dinner with Ben. Or me,” West said. “Though I’m a lot more interesting than Kip or your verbally stunted brother.”
    “Chemistry isn’t everything, and Kip’s very sweet.” Shaye stuck her nose in the air.
    Definitely directed at him. Sweet was something he’d never be. Not unless it was part of tempting a woman into his bed, and he seemed to do well enough without resorting to sweet .
    Del dropped the pen and leaned forward on the counter. “The guy’s