Page 103 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

She runs her hands through the curly ends of my hair. “Not for sure. Just a sense. But you can’t meddle. They have to figure this out on their own.”

I groan and hug her fiercely. My life preserver for weathering all Bower storms. “You’re not allowed to fall for any of my brothers.”

“You’re the only Bower for me.” She pushes my head up, brushes her lips against mine, deepening the kiss with a sweep of her tongue. “I can’t wait,” she whispers against my mouth, “to watch all the romances on Netflix this month.”

Laughing, I grab her hand and spin her into an impromptu dance, catching and dipping her back the way I sometimes do. “It’s fine. I’ll just stare at you the whole time while I plan our hot-dog costumes.”

epilogue

Callahan

All I’ve ever wanted is to give my brothers the happiness they deserve. There’s nothing more important than ensuring they find love and success in life, but I’ve encountered a problem. A troublesome hitch I can’t control. Specifically, the fact that every fiber of my being is highly attuned to my former best friend: Jolene Daniels, Ruiner of My Serenity.

I sense her the second she’s near, like this precise moment. It’s not just the telltale tingling up my neck when she enters the art gallery or my knee-jerk instinct to flee. My oldest brother’s sharp intake of breath is a dead giveaway to her presence, followed by his I-want-my-ex-girlfriend-back sigh.

“Jolene’s here,” Jake says, like I don’t know. “She brought drinks.”

I keep my back to her. Pretend my heart hasn’t turned into a jackhammer. I carefully lift another painting off the wall and lean it with the others.

Her appearance here isn’t odd. A number of townsfolk turned up to help the Yard Goat Gallery owners clean up after last night’s spring storm. It was a doozy, blowing through Windfall with a decisive hand, but the Yard Goat sustained the only real damage. An old tree came down on the train-station-turned-artist co-op, shattering windows and puncturing the roof. Some art was damaged beyond repair. Water seeped in, which means new floors are needed, along with new windows and drywall and a fresh coat of paint.

Since Jake and I run our own construction business, and I’m friends with one of the artists, we volunteered our help. Everyone else is here because this is Windfall. A close-knit community that helps when others are in need, sweeping, lugging, gossiping, arguing good-naturedly over what should be done next, or, in Jolene’s case, bringing refreshments.

“I should go talk to her,” Jake says, but my oldest brother doesn’t move. “I still can’t get over how great she looks. Even more beautiful than when she was younger, don’t you think?”

I clench my jaw. If I don’t turn around and participate in this painful conversation, Jake will wonder why I’m acting weird. He won’t know why I’d like to demo the brick wall in front of me and sprint through the wreckage, but the wondering is just as bad. Wondering leads to questions. Questions lead to uncertainty, which eventually leads to mistrust. For twelve years, I’ve successfully hidden my role in his breakup with his ex-girlfriend, who happens to be my ex-best friend. Neither of them knows what I did, and I plan to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, there’s no avoiding Jolene in this shoebox town.

Steeling my nerves, I turn around and, Christ. There goes my body again—reacting—like last night’s storm is blowing through my chest.

Jo may appear innocent enough, with her country-girl charm, flirty brown hair, and warm chestnut eyes, but the beauty mark on her right cheek is the first clue she’ll mesmerize—a dash of sensual mixed with sweet purity. Dangerous without even trying. All this time later, my insides go chaotic around her. I still sense when she’s in a room. She was my best friend for nine years, two of which she spent dating my oldest brother. We’ve been apart for twelve years since then, but my forced absence hasn’t changed the facts—what I did to her and Jake was bad and wrong, and the guilt is even worse now.

“She does look great,” I tell Jake, forcing a placid expression. “Have you asked her out yet?”

“Not on a proper date. The way things ended with us was messy.”

Because I’m an asshole, and Jolene thinks Jake cheated, when he did no such thing. “That was just the town rumor mill.”

“I know. I think she knows it too. When it all went down, she said that wasn’t why she wanted to break up. But I’m not sure that was true, and doubts can linger.”

Forget asshole. Just label me traitor and toss me to the wolves. “Give it time. You two were meant to be together.”

Townsfolk are busy, moving easels and art supplies, carefully navigating the glass on the floor. Jake leans on his broom and shrugs. “I know she’s happy I’m back. We’ve hung out at her bar a few times, but people are always around, and I get weird vibes from her.”

“Well, we did vanish for over a decade.”

He smirks. “I survived witness protection, and all I got was this lousy life?”

“We should make T-shirts.”

“Or kill our father,” he grumbles.

“There will be no killing.” I refuse to let anything bad happen to my brothers, even if murdering Raymond S. Bower would be justice served.

“Hey, you two!” Jolene grabs a couple of sodas and brings them our way.

She’s wearing cowboy boots and a jean skirt that shows off her shapely legs. Her fitted blue T-shirt reads Fishing for Trouble. Isn’t that the God’s honest truth? This woman never fails to inspire anarchy.