Page 20 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Miss Brenna, do I dare ask what those two are arguin’ about now?” Auggie asks.

“Gus asked Nash about a landscaping discount.”

“He what?” I about spit out my beer, her answer taking me by surprise. Big brother just put his balls on the chopping block.

I’m not sure why I’m surprised; such a thing is very on brand for Gus. Leave it to him to ask our sister’s boyfriend for a discount at family dinner. In his defense, he did at least wait a couple of months after the two of them finally removed their heads from their asses and admitted their feelings for each other. Watching Willa and Nash circle each other like two lions in heat for the last I don’t know how many years was starting to get old.

Auggie mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out, but I’m not sure I want to either. Turning toward me, he holds out the tongs, silently telling me to take over the grill.

“I assume that Jace is not helping matters?” he asks Brenna as he heads for the door. My second youngest brother, also the family wild card, is undoubtedly sitting there, letting the scene play out, while he sits back with a bowl of popcorn. She shakes her head, confirming what we already know, and Auggie sighs. “Let me go fix this before your mama steps in. Dinner won’t be pretty if Miss Belle is annoyed.”

Ain’t that the truth…

“Families are fun,” Brenna comments, sinking into an Adirondack chair next to the grill.

I smile at her, then turn my attention back to the veggie skewers, not wanting anything to burn. It’s also a fabulous distraction from her boobs. I’ve paid enough attention to them already. Still, I need to do something to fix the weirdness between us. She and I are going to be living together all summer. We have to move on.

“Try working with them.”

“I don’t know how you do it. Speaking of, though, catch me up. Because the way Gus was in there talking, it sounded like he’s in charge now? I thought he was the head of guns and ammo. Did Auggie retire and I missed it?”

“Not yet,” I tell her. “Though, it’s probably comin’ in the next few years. Gus is executive vice president, on top of being over guns and ammo, although we’re looking for someone to take over that if you know of anyone.”

“Everyone I know has a pharmacy degree.”

Good point…

“Other than that, everything is still the same. Brandt and I run Southern Brothers, Ewan bought Knox County Bait and Tackle and renamed it the Booby Trap, Hux is over paper and the mill, Anton heads up agriculture, maintaining those precious three Ps…”

“Peaches, peanuts, and pecans!” Brenna says in unison with me.

“Willa is the director of corporate giving and”—I’m cut off by the sound of the screen door opening, Jace laughing as he joins us—“and this joker is our personal safety expert.”

“You’re over personal safety and yet you didn’t move out of the way of that fight?” Brenna pokes, smiling brightly. A smile that makes my dick twitch.

“Eh, that’s nothing,” Jace says, waving her off. He settles into the chair next to her, clinking the long necks of their beers together before he takes a swig. “Those two are harmless.”

“I don’t know. I witnessed the catfight between Willa and Kitty Cattaway earlier this year. Your sister’s got some claws on her.”

“When did Willa and Kitty have a catfight?”

“I told you about that,” I say, flipping the skewers again. Not to mention, I thought everyone in town knew about our sister getting into it with her longtime rival. “Miss Belle broke them up.”

“That I would have liked to see.”

Brenna and I give each other a knowing look, the shared memory of that moment like our own little secret. My heart squeezes, enjoying our inside knowledge a little too much. Or, maybe not. Big brothers can have this kind of moment with little sisters, can’t they? I share them with Willa, so Brenna should be no different.

There, problem solved.

The conversation lulls, the three of us content to sit in the quiet. That, and none of us want to disrupt the balance of being able to listen to the argument going on inside with being far enough away that we’re not involved. If given the chance, either side wouldn’t hesitate to rope us in, both believing that we’d support them.

I can’t speak for either Brenna or Jace here, but I'm on Willa’s side. Not that I’m inserting myself.

“Special delivery!” Anton declares, pushing through the doorway, hand full of plates and utensils.

“Oh, let me help!” Brenna says, popping up out of the chair. She makes it look easy—which anyone who’s ever tried getting out of an Adirondack chair knows it’s not—and my eyes fly to her backside, mind running wild.

I have got to stop that.