Page 53 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“Miss Margeaux,” I greet, turning on my most charming smile. Presley is sitting to her right, a pretty pink blush crawling up her cheeks as she pulls her lips in and looks away. Everything in me wants to call her on it, but I hold back. “How are you this fine evening?”

“Better now that everyone is here.” She beams, almost mischievously, the sparkle in her eyes one that I haven’t seen before. “Grab Gus, and let’s go get food.”

Yeah, she’s up to something.

“Guster,” I holler, nodding toward the food truck parked at the end of the lawn.

“Don’t call me that,” Gus grumbles.

“You prefer Grumpy Gus?” I retort, rounding the table to head toward the food line.

“No.”

We join the line, turning back to wait for Margeaux—who has Presley in tow.

Yeah, I knew she was up to something.

“Gus, Jace, y’all know Presley,” Margeaux leads, her smirk turning devilish. We nod, muttering yeses and hellos, letting my sister-in-law continue. “She just moved back to town and doesn’t really know anyone, so as a former newbie to Hickory Hills, I figure Drafts and Dig In is the perfect way to introduce her to everyone and pull her into our circle. Certainly worked out for me.”

She wraps her arms around Gus, pulling him close and kissing him sweetly. Gus chuffs proudly, letting down his hard exterior for a second to let her love on him. I’m pretty sure these two were already well into their sneaking around when she came to her first Drafts and Dig In, but then again, maybe I have that mixed up.

“Oh, look, there’s Gail Chamberlain,” Margeaux continues. “I need to talk to her about the…errr…tree lighting.”

Yeah, that was smooth…

“Gus, come with me.” She tugs him out of line, my oldest brother rocking back, his brows turning down in confusion.

“We’re going to talk to Mrs. Chamberlain? Voluntarily?”

My thoughts exactly, Gus.

Margeaux tugs on him again, leaving no more room for questions. Throwing me a look that could double as a distress signal, Gus follows her lead. Leaving Presley and me alone. Together.

The teenage boy in me jumps for joy, beyond excited to have the pretty girl all to myself. There’s another part—a bigger part—that can only think one thing. Now what?

“Hi,” Presley says, the weirdness flowing like the Flint River.

“Hi.” I struggle with what to say next. Seriously, I think I was less awkward at thirteen when my voice was still cracking and I hadn’t grown into my limbs yet. “How you feeling?”

“Better. Human again.” She giggles, the sound lighting up my insides like a pinball machine. “Thank you again for your help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Ha, that’s kinda my goal.” She shrugs, still embarrassed by the whole thing. “I plan on continuing to pretend like it never happened.”

Shit. No. That’s not what I meant.

Okay, find something else to ask. I can do this. I’m the charming one of the family. The romantic. The one who reads about this shit for fun. I’ve got this.

Except it’s never been this tough.

“How’s Little Man? Is he here and I just missed him?”

There we go.

“No, my parents are babysitting tonight.” Presley relaxes as she answers, her shoulders dropping down as they ease, and I watch as her whole body comes alive. “And he’s back to his Tasmanian Devil self. A forty-eight-hour stomach bug isn’t going to keep him down. He keeps asking when you can come over again to play trains.”

Fuck, yes.