“It is. Today is a sad day. Your momma was the sweetest lady and I just wanted to . . .” I shuffled a step forward, overcome by the urge to hug him, hug someone associated with Bethany Winston. But instead I stuffed my hands into my jeans pockets and shrugged. “I just wanted to say I’m—”
“Oh, hey. Jennifer. What are you doing here?” Beau Winston appeared behind Cletus, opening the door wider and giving me a cheerful, welcoming grin.
Now, Beau Winston was a looker. And he knew it. His hair and beard were red, neatly trimmed and expertly styled; his eyes were sky blue and utterly devastating, and his grin was legendary. He was extremely friendly and easy-going. Half the ladies within five years of my age were in love with him. The other half just wanted to do naughty things to him.
I never made the blunder of mistaking his friendliness for interest. But many women did, and were subsequently forced to nurse dashed hopes and broken hearts.
Cletus answered for me. “Bringing us sad cake, apparently.”
“It won’t make you sad,” I explained, “it’ll make you nostalgic. That’s how I made it. It’s a nostalgia cake.”
“Nostalgia sounds nice.” Beau’s eyes twinkled; the effect paired with his tender smile made me a little fuzzy headed. But then a hint of devilry entered his gaze as he glanced between Cletus and me. “Anyway, you want to come inside? Cletus made dinner tonight. I’m sure he’d love to slide you his sausage.”
“I made sausage.” Cletus stepped in front of Beau. “That’s what Beau means. My sausage was for dinner and people ate it.”
“Yes.” Beau stepped forward again, bumping Cletus with his shoulder, adding with a smirk, “Cletus’s famous sausage is famous.”
Cletus’s eyes cut to the side and he glared at his younger brother. “You are exceedingly irksome.”
I shook my head, taking a step back and tossing my thumb over my shoulder. “No thanks. I don’t want to impose. My car is still running.”
“I turned it off.” This statement came from behind me.
I twisted at the waist and found Billy Winston walking up the porch steps. My heart jumped to my throat and I stumbled back a step.
Oh no!
I pressed my lips together and stared at him, because that’s all I could do without making an idiot of myself.
Don’t say anything. Don’t speak. Don’t even breathe.
He held out my keys and his handsome mouth curved in a slight, quizzical smile. “You left your driver’s side door open.”
“Planning to make a quick getaway?” Beau asked with a laugh.
I glanced dumbly between Billy and my keys. I stared for so long Billy’s smile morphed into a confused frown.
“Take your keys,” Cletus said sharply.
So I did. I snatched my keys from Billy’s hand and lowered my eyes to the porch. Good Lord, this was the worst.
A moment of excruciatingly uncomfortable silence passed, during which I stared at my tennis shoes. I felt Cletus’s eyes on me, burning into the side of my face.
“Well,” I croaked, “enjoy your sad cake.” I grimaced, shaking my head and covering my eyes with a hand. “I mean, don’t enjoy it. Just, eat it. Or don’t eat it. It goes well with milk.”
Another suffocating moment passed and I wanted to die. Instead, I turned awkwardly toward the steps and muttered, “I’ll just be going now.”
“No, wait,” Cletus said.
I turned and saw him unload the baked goods into Beau’s arms. “Take these and go inside. Billy, grab the sad cake. We’ll be in soon.”
Billy gave me a weird smile, like he was a little afraid of me, and I can’t say I blamed him. Meanwhile, Beau winked in my direction and disappeared into the house with a grin.
As soon as the door closed, Cletus turned, his hands on his hips, his eyes large and watchful. “Tell me what just happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“With Billy. What just happened with Billy? What was that?”
I covered my face with my hands. “It was really terrible, wasn’t it?”
“Not terrible . . .” he started, but didn’t finish.
“Right. Not terrible compared to a plane crash.”
He was silent for a moment. And then I heard laughter.
I peeked at him from between my fingers. Sure enough, Cletus was laughing.
My hands dropped and I couldn’t help my smile or my chuckle. His laughter was contagious. Bright eyes captivated me, made even brighter by his pretty lashes, and an exceedingly pleasing mouth full of straight, white teeth. Cletus’s laughter sent a warm and rich something pumping through my veins; it made me think of Swiss chocolate, semi-sweetened, and whipped with cream into a thick, dark, luscious ganache.
“Yeah,” he wiped at his eyes and shook his head, “you’re right. That was pretty terrible.”
I sighed, still smiling because he was still smiling. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s fine. You fancy Billy.” He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
I frowned and shook my head. “No. No, no. That’s not it at all. I don’t fancy Billy.”
Cletus straightened, his eyebrows bouncing high on his forehead. “Are you sure? Because that was—”
“No. I don’t. I mean, I’m sure he’s very nice. But that’s not why I can’t form sentences around him.”
He considered me for a moment, then scratched his jaw. “Okay. Enlighten me. Why do you lose motor function around Billy?”
“It’s not just Billy. It’s anyone my father approves of. I . . . I can’t help it. I get nervous, hoping to make a good impression, and end up speaking nonsense.”
“Your father approves of my brother Billy?”
I nodded once.
Cletus gave me a thoughtful frown and appeared to be confused. “You’re going to have to spell this out for me. I don’t understand. How do you mean your daddy approves of Billy?”
“I mean my father has identified a number of men in the area and, well,” I inhaled a magnitude of air, suddenly feeling out of breath, “he’s indicated to me that they’re appropriate, should they show interest. Men with whom I should try to . . . make . . . a good impression.”
My father had told me on more than one occasion how important it was for me to marry well. Growing up, he used to say things like, You aren’t too bright, but luckily you’re pretty enough to catch a rich husband. Just keep your mouth shut and smile. Being pretty and having a nice smile weren’t bad things, but I always found it difficult to reimagine my father’s insults as compliments.
Cletus was back to scrutinizing me; his eyes were clear, sharp and assessing. “Is that so?”
I nodded and rolled my lips between my teeth, feeling like a fool for some reason. My face grew hot beneath his gaze.
“This is fascinating.” He sounded truly fascinated. “Who else is on the list?”
I glanced over Cletus’s shoulder as I tried to recall the names my father had mentioned over the years. “Well, Billy comes up the most. That’s probably why I’m at my worst whenever he’s around. He also mentioned Hank Weller—”
“Hank Weller?” Cletus looked surprised, but not disapproving. “Well now, I guess he is good at fishing and has a fine head for business. Who else?”
“Um, Dr. Runous—”
“Drew?”
“Yes. But that was before he and your sister became involved. He hasn’t mentioned him in a while.”
“Anyone else?”
“Um, let’s see . . . Jackson James.”
“Jackson?” Cletus made a face, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “That ignoramus?”
I tried not to smile, but failed. Cletus looked positively aghast at the mere idea, affronted on my behalf.
“He’s not so bad,” I said, unable to help myself, wanting to see his reaction.
“Yes. Exactly. He’s not so bad. He’s just plain old bad. And he’s certainly not in the same stratosphere as Billy or Drew or even Hank. Your father has impaired judgment and can’t be trusted.” His gaze focused on some spot over my head, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it. I recognized that this meant he was deep in thought.
I took the opportunity to study his face, enjoying the view of him up close. Despite his attempts to mask his handsomeness with wild hair and a bushy beard, he was still remarkably attractive. Granted, he was also still dangerous. But I liked to think we’d formed something of an odd friendship. With that friendship came an equally odd affection.
It was true, I was beginning to feel affection for him. And I knew I was totally nuts—seeing as how I was blackmailing him, and I was still a little afraid of him, and he wasn’t acting out of the kindness of his heart—but there it was. Affection, plain and simple.
“I have an idea,” he announced, snapping the fingers of one hand. “And it’s brilliant.”
“Of course it is.” I grinned at him, enjoying my view even more now that his clever eyes were bright with excitement and pointed at me.
“Billy will take you on a date.”
I started, my grin immediately falling into a gaping frown of absolute horror. “Wait . . . what?”