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He had plenty of thoughts about my naked bum, of that I was certain.
I’d seen a rickety old bench hanging from a tree just off the drive and figured I’d take the risk in regard to its sturdiness. Gingerly, I sat, and my luck held out, so I stretched out in the shade to read until he left for his shift at The Horseshoe.
Once again, he offered nothing to acknowledge the taste I’d given him of his own medicine.
Infuriating. Maddening. Absolutely exasperating that I couldn’t rattle him the way he rattled me. I’d shaken him, but only about as much as this old swing in a breeze.
He shook me like a Pangean earthquake.
I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. Cass picked me up to take me to Linda’s for dinner, and I wondered again how someone so lovely could have ended up with a smartarsed bastard for a son. Through the meal, I worried he’d be at the house when I returned, but when we pulled in and the Scout was gone, I sighed. Mostly in relief. I think. And then I went to sleep wondering how long I could dodge him.
Shockingly, I didn’t have another pornographic dream. Annoyingly, I was a little sad I hadn’t.
The next morning, I snuck out of my room when Cass texted that she’d arrived. Through the sliver of his cracked door, I made out the shape of his outrageous torso and arms, sheets twisted around his waist. Beau lay sprawled at his feet, belly up, tongue hanging out of his open mouth and paws twitching in the air. With a smile I had not asked for, I tiptoed across squeaky boards to the front door, not breathing until I was outside where Cass waited.
I managed not to mention anything about sexy dreams or bare arses—mine or Remy’s—listening instead to Cass rattle off wedding to-do lists and making notes on my phone like a good Maid of Honor. Nearly everyone intimately connected to the couple had made it to town for the festival. All the groomsmen and bridesmaids too, though outside of Henry and me, they were all cousins.
And they had a lot of cousins. Even Davis. And though many parents had arrived, his were still not here. Cass said they wouldn’t be until the rehearsal dinner, which was likely why they were paying for the wedding. It was their favorite way to assuage their guilt for ignoring Davis, I supposed.
Brunch at the diner in town was lovely, Cass and Davis paired up opposite Henry and me. I spent the morning relishing in Henry’s attention. His arm slung behind me on the booth. A kiss pressed to my temple. The rich sound of his laughter at a joke I made.
I haven’t thought about Remy at all, I thought several times.
Cass looked quite proud of herself through brunch and every minute after as we walked into the Roseville Strawberry Festival I’d heard so much about.
Everything was red and white with a splash of blue, from the sign to the tents to the Ferris wheel. They’d even painted the Ferris wheel cars to mimic a strawberry—green cap, seeds, and all. The air carried music and laughter and the hum of the crowd, with an assault of sweet and salty smells that set my mouth watering. Near the entrance, a pack of very little girls in foam strawberry costumes sang a song about summertime, and I dragged Cass to a halt in front of them so we could listen.
“They’re precious,” I said under my breath, my face soft.
“Those little girls are going into first grade, if I had to guess,” she whispered back with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Your grade. I know you miss teaching, don’t lie and say you don’t,” I warned.
“Well, that’s the beauty. I can teach whenever I want. Davis just likes me home.”
“Yes, but do you like being home?”
She shrugged, looking a little too blasé. “Do I miss working with kids? Absolutely. But I can go to Pilates whenever I want, and he makes more than enough money so I can otherwise lie around like a hoss cat. Anyway, you’re not using your degree either. And you’ve mastered the job of hoss cat. You’re basically a pro.”
“Whatever would I use my art history degree for? Unlike you, I am not a natural teacher. I only got the thing because I love art, and to help with auctions.”
“I guess that’s fair.” She linked our arms.
“You just seem a bit restless, that’s all. Unfulfilled. A little lost.”
One of her brows rose in my direction. “Pot, kettle.”
I groaned. “At least we’re young enough that we have time to sort it out, right?”
“God, I hope so. I’m really banking on it.” She squeezed my arm. “Oh, I didn’t even ask you how last night at Remy’s went. I’ve been too busy blabbing on about myself. I’m sorry.”
The flittering-fluttering in my stomach shouldn’t have surprised me. “Oh, it went fine. He left straight away for work. Haven’t seen him since.”
She sighed, either in relief or annoyance. Maybe both. “Good. Hopefully it stays that way.”
I shifted so I could give her a look. “You do like your cousin, don’t you? There’s no grudge or fight between you?”
“I love Remy, the dirty old shithead. Closest thing to a brother I have.”
