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Lennon purses his lips. “I have no issues with the pink. I’m a real man. Real men love pink. The slogan is the issue.”
As amusing as his shirt is, I don’t like hearing Lennon’s having wiring problems. Old wiring can overload and shut down. In dangerous cases, it can heat up and cause a fire. “You’re not using any appliances until the electrical is fixed, right?”
“Only in emergencies,” Maggie says. “Like when Lennon makes us soufflé rocks for dinner.”
Lennon huffs. “They weren’t that bad, and we’re being safe. It’ll take a while before we can fix the wires, but we’ll do more takeout. Support town restaurants. So don’t you dare offer to help. I’m aware you’re working yourself to the bone these days.”
I maintain a controlled expression. Yes, my free minutes have been dwindling, but Lennon’s been using that kitchen without a second thought for close to a year. It’s easy to think one night of cooking won’t matter, but all it takes is one bad wire to heat and spark. If he won’t accept my assistance, I’ll simply find a covert way of helping out.
For now, I turn to Maggie. Although I’d do anything to see my brothers safe, riling them up is another favorite pastime. “How long does he have to wear the hipster shirt?”
“Three days.”
“If I can get you a new one, is there anything in the bet that would disallow a swapping of the shirt?” I have several ideas on how best to mess with Lennon. The leading candidate is the simple slogan:Slap My Back if I’m a Hipster.
Maggie’s green eyes gleam with mischief. “No, sir. There is not.”
Lennon slams his hands on the table. “I didn’t agree to a new shirt.”
Maggie studies her nails as though blasé, like she’s not loving every second of his discomfort. “You didn’t stipulate that youwouldn’twear a second shirt.”
Lennon straightens. He looks about to throw a tantrum, then his attention darts to Jolene. His eyes shift back to me, then they dart to the far end of our bench. Without saying a word, Lennon slides in beside Jolene and scoots so close she gets jammed into my side.
Instinctively, I slide my arm around Jolene’s back. She grips my thigh to keep from toppling farther into me, and my body becomes one of those faulty wires, verging on combustion.
“Between yesterday’s festival and this morning’s coffee, looks like you two have finally had time to catch up.” Lennon’s comment is mundane, but there’s nothing subtle about his guess-who-has-the-upper-hand-now look. And yeah. I get his intent. If I mess with him by making a new shirt, he’ll find ways to make my life with Jo difficult. Like shoving her against me at a table. Not that having her pressed against me is hard. ButI’msuddenly hard and breathing too damn fast.
“The festival was great,” Jo says and angles herself to smile at Maggie. Her hand moves slightly, sliding up my jeans. “You did an amazing job planning it.”
Maggie says something back. I think Lennon speaks too. Fuck if I know. My nerve endings have become a swarm of bees, all of them buzzing at once. Even worse, my hand develops a mind of its own, flexing on Jo’s soft hip. She leans harder into me, or maybe Lennon’s shoving her over. I’m honestly not sure if I’m in Windfall or on Mars.
All I am issensation. And dumb.
I tilt my head slightly, feel the drag of Jo’s silky hair along my nose. I don’t mean to inhale—swear toGod, I don’t mean to—but Jolene has always had this scent about her, a musky femininity that is devastatingly alluring. I’m dying to know if it’s changed.
Bad news: it has not.
She still smells like the perfect blend of casual and mysterious. Like her country style and sensual beauty mark have a signature scent of lightning storms and wild flowers.
“It has been nice,” Jo says, her quiet voice breaking me out of my lusty haze. “Finally catching up,” she adds.
Maggie and Lennon are surprisingly gone, but we’re still pressed together with my arm around Jo’s back. Her hand is on my thigh. I should move—alwaysshouldaround Jo—but want takes over. “Yeah, it has been.”
A soft sigh escapes her. “We didn’t do this enough our last years together.”
“Do what?” I say, but my voice sounds too rough. Strangled.It’s just attraction,I remind myself. A surface reaction to Jolene’s undeniable appeal.
She adjusts her position, rubbing her outer thigh against mine. “Before your family left, there was this weird distance between us. We spent time together, but there were always other people around.”
Because spending time alone with Jolene made me want her more. Made me worry I’d do something insane like kiss my brother’s girlfriend. She also never looked at me, her youngerfriend, like she looked at Jake. “You had more fun hanging out with the oldest Bower.”
She ducks her head, her layered hair cascading in front of her face. “I was pretty insecure back then.”
“Not in high school.”
She flicks her hair back, revealing intense eyes. “I was picked on foryears, Cal. Shedding my awkwardness and getting prettier didn’t magically reverse that damage.”
She got breathtakingly beautiful, not pretty. But hearing she felt insecure in high school is a shock. As far as I knew, Jolene blossomed during that time. Walked with confidence. Suddenly made friends easily. “If you were feeling insecure during those years, you hid it well.”
