Page 34 of Good Directions

9

ANTON

“Brenna, all I’m sayin’ is, you do realize this means you have to spend the rest of your life with this joker, right?” I say, trying to predict which one will react first. Ten bucks says Milo.

The three of us walk into Magnolia Manor, the smell of something delicious smacking us straight in the face, causing all three of us to pause. A scent like that can only mean one thing—Dolly is already in the kitchen.

“That’s the point,” Milo gruffs.

Bingo!

“I know, and I can’t wait,” Brenna gushes, sliding under Milo’s arm and snuggling into him. Her left hand rests squarely on his chest, showing off the bright, sparkly diamond he slipped on there the other night while watching the fireworks on our parents’ boat, Fishy Business.

One brother down, two more likely to soon follow. We all know it’s a matter of days before Hux officially proposes to Dolly, and this whole town is waiting with bated breath for it to happen. It’s also not a secret, at least among us brothers, that Gus already has Margeaux’s ring and recently asked all the men in her family for their blessing. This is Gus, however, so he also has to calculate the exact perfect moment and execute a detailed plan. One we all know that Margeaux will love every second of.

That leaves three of us.

Leaning down, Milo kisses Brenna softly, and it’s like you can see the happiness radiating off her. Little hearts floating up into the air like balloons disappearing into the atmosphere.

I shake my head, slapping my older brother on the back. I’m happy for them. Really. They bring out the best in each other, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Milo this happy. Even when he first opened Southern Brothers.

“As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into,” I joke.

“That’s rich,” Hux comments as we walk into the kitchen. “Considering you keep asking me if I’ve wifed her up yet.”

He nods at Dolly, who shakes her head as she mixes something in Miss Belle’s large, pastel pink mixing bowl. The smile on her face gives her away, the mouthed “not yet” also doing nothing to make anyone think that either of them are upset by my question.

“And have you? No?” I shake my head, letting out a tsk. “You should get on that.”

Hux throws up a middle finger, and I laugh, turning to grab something from the fridge. Halfway through my spin, I stop, slamming into something.

No, not something. Someone.

I react fast, arms shooting out to catch whomever I just accidentally bodychecked. Someone who, by the squeak they let out, is without a doubt female.

Looking up, I expect to see my sister, or one of the women I already regard as sisters-in-law, or worse, my mama. My heart stops as the chestnut hair registers, followed by those eyes—the ones I know see right through me—my brain taking a moment to catch up. I tighten my grip, then release a little, suddenly way overthinking holding on to her.

“Sawyer…”

My new lab partner prickles as I say her name, eyes going wide. Playfulness bubbles up inside me, the serious look on her face goading me more and more with each second. She’s so easy to get riled up, and now that I know she’s trying extra hard not to let me get under her skin, there is no way I’m going to stop trying.

“You need to watch where you’re going,” she states, not bothering to hide the ice in her voice. She steps back, moving out of my hold and walking around me.

She’s wearing her bossy pants today. Challenge accepted.

“Good to see you too.” I open the fridge, grabbing a Coke and cracking it open. “Enjoy the fireworks the other night? I hope you didn’t watch them alone.”

As expected—or maybe just hoped—that’s the magic word. She glowers at me, opening her mouth to launch a comeback. That is, until she’s cut off by my mama.

“Anton!” Miss Belle breezes into the room in a way only she can. A pageant queen and true Southern belle to the very end, my mama has a way of slicing you in half with her kind words and polite smile. She might just be the scariest woman on the planet. “Doesn’t the house look much better put back together?"

“Walls look great, Mama.”

“Thank you. It’s called Noble Blush. Sawyer picked it out.”

Did she…

I raise an eyebrow, getting ready to make a comment on the name, watching Sawyer’s own noble blush creep up her face. Mama doesn’t let me though.