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“Jayme.” The single word is laced with enough warning to draw my attention back to Carson. His voice is tight, and he’s telling me that I need to step aside or risk being caught in the crossfire when he goes after the guy who just picked me up out of nowhere.
It’s almost . . . sweet, in a way? I’m not some damsel in distress who wants to be rescued. Hell, I am the rescuer. But the fact that Carson would risk everything we’ve worked for with his image over me is . . . sweet.
I sigh, not quite understanding what’s going on here, but if I’m one thing, it’s adaptable. “Carson, this is my brother, Joel. Joel, this is Carson.”
“Your brother?” Carson echoes, the defensiveness beginning to dissipate ever so slowly.
“Her brother, Joel.” He’s still holding his hand out, but adds a congenial grin to entice Carson. “You passed that test with flying colors too, man.”
Reluctantly, Carson shakes Joel’s hand. “You test everyone Jayme dates that way to see how they react?” He’s still mad, but at least mostly non-violent now.
“Not always me,” Joel says easily with a shrug. “There’s four of us, so we take turns. I got lucky because it’s technically John’s turn, but I saw her first. Lucky me.” He pats his chest, proud of himself for nearly prompting Carson to beat the shit out of him.
But Carson’s not the biggest threat here. I am.
“What are you doing here?” I snap. I dig my nail into the lapel of Joel’s tuxedo, forcing him to take a step back, and give him the scowl I patented early in my life as the youngest and only girl in a family of boys.
Joel grins, tempting his fate.
“Speak, or I will wrap your ball sack around your neck and hang you from it like a noose.”
My mouthiness is another blessing I received as the youngest child, and my skillful use of threats to the most sensitive of parts is an easy option with brothers. It still comes in handy with clients, though I tend to stick with targeting their pride, ego, and financial solvency over their actual body parts. But this is Joel.
He laughs. “Good one, Jaybird.” When I don’t laugh back, his brow furrows. “Wait. You didn’t know we were coming?”
“Who’s we, Joel? Who’s here?”
But a sickening feeling is beginning to churn in my belly.
“Jayme, we’re all here,” he says grimly. “I thought you knew. Mom said—”
“What?” I screech, looking around as though wild, rabid wolves are going to attack us at any second from any side.
“Shit. I should’ve known, but how could I?” Joel rambles, more to himself than to me. His eyes clearing, he apologizes. “I’m sorry, Sis. Mom said you were raving all about this guy, Carson” —he pauses to look over my shoulder and give Carson a guy-friendly chin lift— “and that it’s serious. She mentioned a charity event, and you know how it is, when Mom says get dressed, we put on the penguin suits.”
I quit listening somewhere after ‘we’re all here’, even though Joel is still talking.
“You’re here. You’re all here?” I mutter, hoping . . . wishing . . . praying I misheard.
Joel looks at me as though concerned I might collapse. “Jayme? You okay?”
Eyes wide with horror, I pin Joel in place. “He doesn’t know.” Joel blinks, but I don’t. “Joel, he doesn’t know.”
Realization dawns on Joel’s face, and he looks over my shoulder again, this time giving Carson a pitying look. “Shit.”
“Fuck. Motherfucking shit biscuit fart fucks.”
“Go. I’ll hold them off,” Joel vows, spinning me in place and pushing me toward Carson. From behind me, I hear him say, “Nice to meet you. Hope to see you again.” He doesn’t sound sure that’s going to happen, though.
Neither am I.
“Carson, I need to tell you something.” I grab his hand, dragging him away from Joel. I need to find someplace private where we can talk. But everywhere we go, people are waving and calling out.
“Carson, the place looks fantastic!”
“Did you hear who’s here? Good job, Steen!”
“Heard about that scuffle you had . . . good for you for saving Grandma Barbara.”
“Oh! Carson, come meet the Lieutenant Governor.”
Nope, nope, nope. We’re not stopping. Not even for one of the most powerful men in the state. Because I haven’t told Carson my one, biggest secret, and he’s about to find out in the worst way.
Publicly.
I need to talk to him, control the narrative of how he finds out. Even if that kiss earlier was a goodbye kiss, he deserves to know the truth.
But Carson pulls on my hand, stopping me. We’re near a small bench on the edge of the Great Garden, but I can’t sit down. My nerves are too jittery, and my feet need to move as I search for the right words.
