Page 17 of Sundown Somewhere

“Huxley, there is no way that your mama⁠—”

Oh no, she is not dragging Miss Belle into this. I don’t care what she thinks—my mama stays out of it.

“Mrs. Chamberlain, thank you for your concern. I need to get back to the food tent—make sure the generator’s running. Would hate for the food to go bad.”

With a nod of my head, I push past her, not waiting on a response. There are plenty of other people here today for her to gossip with or harass about how they aren’t living their lives right. I do not need to be the target du jour. Nor does Dolly.

Especially at o’dark-thirty before we let everyone loose for a day of fishing.

“One-woman kind of man, Huxley,” she calls after me. “Just consider it!”

I’ve always been a one-woman man…just not in the way you think…

I shake my head, bobbing and weaving through the crowd gathered in the parking lot of Silver Lake, excitement filling the air for the day’s event. The first for our town, Reel Madness is set up to help raise money for Hayes Cares, the charitable arm of the company that our sister Willa oversees, and baby brother Ewan, who owns The Booby Trap, the local bait and tackle shop, has clearly done an excellent job at not only getting the word out locally, but lining up a number of key sponsors for the event. The parking lot is full of tents, trucks, boats, and people. It’s going to be a good day.

“Safety first!” Jace yells off in the distance, his distinct voice carrying through the still early morning air naturally, reminding all of us of his personal motto. The family wild card—and the romantic of the group—it can be tough to reconcile his laid-back approach to life with his passion for personal safety, the branch of the business he oversees. But then he starts talking about it, and you can’t get him to shut up.

“What’s he hollering about?” I ask Anton, grabbing one of the boxes of Hayes peanuts he has stacked in his arms.

“Finishing up the volunteer meeting, I think. What’d Mrs. Chamberlain want?”

I roll my eyes, this time not bothering to hide my annoyance. “I need to quit my tomcatting around.”

Anton burst out laughing, causing him to have to shift the box in his arms. “She just called you a manwhore.”

I side-eye him. He’s right; she did. But I’m not going to dignify it with a response. My choices in short-term female company are mine and mine alone. Because like I said, I am a one-woman man.

And that one woman is Dolly McLain.

Has been since we were nine years old. Will always be.

Every kid in the third grade at Hickory Hills Primary was given a role in the class play, whether we wanted one or not. Despite the fact that they did ask us for our preferences on what kind of role we would prefer, they apparently didn’t pay a lick of attention to it. That’s the only reason I can figure—twenty-some years later—how I got cast as Peter fucking Pan when I told them I wanted to be a tree. Or part of the pirate ship. Or, at absolute most, the crocodile, so that I could bite Sonny Rourke who was already bragging about how he was guaranteed the role of Captain Hook. I would have bitten hard too.

Probably why I was immediately ruled out there.

But when the cast list was posted and my name was listed as the lead—right next to Sonny Rourke as Captain Hook—I was less than pleased. At least until I saw that little Miss Dolly McLain was cast as Wendy. As the great-granddaughter of the town matriarch, everyone knew the pretty blonde. And I was sure that I could annoy her enough that she would insist I be recast and I would end up as a tree.

What I didn’t account for was the pretty little blonde with sparkling blue eyes having a mischievous side that was going to rival mine. That my untamed soul would find itself a partner in crime.

I made a promise to her then that no matter what, I’d always be by her side. Always be her best friend. A promise I have every intention of keeping.

“Where are these going?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Wherever your girl wants them,” he answers. Your girl. He says it partially to get a rise out of me, because that’s who Anton is, the instigator, but also because he understands the power of our friendship. That Dolly loves our family and takes part in our events as part of the family because of our bond. “She asked me to bring the snack-size bags of peanuts. So I did.”

I nod, carefully leading the way to the food tent. The early morning sky is still dark, the only light from the massive LED lamps my brothers and I set up along the walkway this week in preparation for the event. We won’t see the sun for another hour or so, and everyone will be out on the lake by then, bellies full of whatever Dolly is serving for breakfast, bobbers in the water waiting on the first tug.

The smell of Dolly’s cinnamon rolls hits my nostrils as we close in, making my tummy grumble and my mouth water. Everything Dolly makes is fantastic, but those cinnamon rolls are the kind of things wars are started over.

“Fresh nuts?” Anton says, sidling up to Dolly and giving her a wink.

Not skipping a beat, she hip checks him, pushing him out of the way.

“There is nothing fresh about your nuts, Anton. Not the ones in those boxes or the ones in your pants,” she quips.

I bite back a laugh, wishing I had thought that one up myself.

“Ha, funny,” he replies, turning to me. “And laugh all you want. Not all of us can be the town tomcat.”