“Hi, Cletus,” she said, her voice soft and friendly and expectant. “How are you?”
I studied her, my eyes darting over her person in a quick assessment. She’d changed. It had only been two days since I’d seen her last, since our surprising picnic at Cooper Road Trail. But she’d taken her homework very seriously. Successfully leaving her house in that dress couldn’t have been easy. I was proud of her and wanted to tell her so.
But I was also irritated with my brother and seeing red because of it.
Even before Billy arrived, Jennifer Sylvester on his arm in her surprising dress and a new hair style, the day had not been an enjoyable one.
Beau had lost his temper, again. Shelly had tried to give him pointers on a tricky engine rebuild. She didn’t seem the least bit flustered by his outburst, which only served to irritate him further. He’d left in a snit.
Then, I’d tried to make taffy. It wasn’t the first time I’d tried to make taffy, and it wouldn’t be the last. I never succeeded, but I was determined.
Next, upon arriving to the jam session, one of my banjo strings had broken. Not the end of the word, certainly. But then, as I was restringing it, another string broke.
And now I’d just overheard my older brother—who was supposed to be permanently embroiled in a sweeping, tragic, and epic love story with Claire McClure—confusing my Jenn and raising her hopes.
My Jenn.
Not Billy’s Jenn.
Mine.
“Jennifer Sylvester,” I said, digging deep and finding the wherewithal to be a gentleman. I gave her a deferential head nod and a taut smile. “How are you this fine evening?”
Her pretty eyes dimmed by degrees even as her smile increased. It looked fake, and that made my own smile slip.
“Fine. Thank you,” she said, her attention dropping to the floor.
She was twisting her fingers. She was nervous.
Dammit, Billy. You had one job. One. Job.
I moved my glare to my brother. “May I have a word?”
“Now?” he asked, looking and sounding almost delighted. Of note, delighted for Billy was imperturbably stoic for everyone else.
“Yes. Now.” I bared my teeth in a grin.
Billy’s eyes moved between mine and I cursed his fastidious grooming. He’d taken extra care with the beard trimmer this afternoon. He also smelled like a profligate, cologne, and unrequited infatuation.
My older brother turned and whispered something into Jennifer’s ear. I stiffened, barely restraining the urge to grab him by his shirt collar and yank him down the hall.
But I didn’t. Instead I made a list of all his most treasured possessions for . . . reasons.
She nodded and sent him a genuine, albeit small smile. Jennifer turned her smile to me but didn’t raise her eyes higher than my neck.
“I’ll go say hi to the sheriff. I think I see him at the donations table with Judge Payton.” Jennifer tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders and set off. I turned my head to watch her go. I wanted to ensure she made it through the crowd without incident.
Then my eyes dropped to her shape, because—in this dress—her shape was on display. The indent of her waist was sharp, and the generous curve of her backside tapered to slim thighs and shapely calves. I couldn’t see her shoulders because she donned the shawl. The interesting black dress she wore had a band of black lace that began at the knee and ended an inch below it.
“Cletus?”
“Hmm?”
Nothing was provocative about the dress . . . and yet, everything was provocative about the dress.
“Cletus.”
“Yeah?”
It reminded me of lingerie, but I couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Cletus, stop staring at my date.”
I slid my eyes to Billy, who’d stepped next to me and stood at my shoulder. He appeared to be amused. I scowled at him, because what he’d just said earned a scowl.
“Come with me.” I tilted my head toward the blues room. The musicians were currently on break. Most of the audience had removed themselves to other places, leaving a sparse collection of stragglers and lonely instruments at the front.
I walked him to the far corner, turned on him, crossed my arms, and demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Billy lifted his left eyebrow at me, his eyes glowing with an unholy light, but otherwise his expression remained irritatingly enigmatic. He was the only one of my siblings I had trouble reading.
“I’m on a date.”
“No. Wrong answer. You’re not on a date.”
The smirk was back.
I ignored it.
“You had one job, Billy. One job.”
“Oh yeah? What was it again?”
I lowered my voice and made sure no one was eavesdropping before continuing. “Help Jennifer. Give her some confidence. Show her a good time.”
He scratched the back of his neck, still smirking. “Last time I checked, before you dragged me over here, we were doing just that.”
“Then why is she so nervous? Why is she doing that twisting thing with her fingers and giving me fake smiles?”
Billy’s smirk morphed into a grin, and he opened his mouth as though he was going to respond, but then stopped himself. His eyes darted between mine and he lowered his chin. He shook his head.
“Cletus,” he started, exhaled a gruff laugh, then returned his eyes to mine, his expression once again unreadable. “Jennifer is a sweet girl. But I’m not interested in Jennifer. And you know that. And that’s why you asked me for help.”
I examined my brother, knowing he was telling the truth, but unable to reconcile the truth with what I’d just witnessed. “Then don’t lead her on, Billy. Don’t call her gorgeous.”
“You don’t think she’s gorgeous?”
“Of course I think she’s gorgeous. I’m not blind, am I?”
“I don’t know, are you?” he asked, a ghost of a smirk behind his eyes.
I grunted and checked my watch. I was missing the bluegrass session. If I didn’t hurry, it would be over and I’d lose my chance to jam. I had the talent show in Nashville with Claire soon and improvising with the group today was important.
“Just promise me you’ll be nice to her.” I held up a warning finger in front of his face. “You be nice. This is a fake date and don’t let her forget it. I can’t help her if she’s mooning after your pedantically manicured beard-line and hipster hair.”
“She’s not mooning after me, Cletus,” he said flatly.
“Let’s keep it that way.” I administered a menacing eyebrow arch, preparing to leave, but then I remembered I needed to speak with Billy about another subject. “By the way, I have the entertainment for Jethro’s bachelor party all lined up.”
Billy’s expression didn’t change. He blinked at me once and made a sound of dissatisfaction in the back of his throat. “I can’t believe I agreed to your plan for the party. Can’t we just go with the original set-up: Beau’s scavenger hunt, drink whiskey, and burn stuff?”
“You’ll thank me later. And I’ll cherish the photos for the rest of our lives.” I turned, calling over my shoulder. “And, after this, no more dates with Jenn. Your call to service is over. I’ll take it from here.”
I didn’t wait to see if he would follow, but I kept my pace at a leisurely stroll. Though I was meandering back to Jennifer, I meandered with purpose. I felt the urge to reassure her. I also felt the urge to set my eyes on her and confirm Billy hadn’t done too much damage with his smooth compliments.
I saw the sheriff standing behind the donations table. A crowd blocked my view of the actual table, but the sheriff was a tall man, easy to spot. As I wove my way through the masses I decided it would be best to drive her home now. Or maybe I could take her to The Front Porch for steak and we could strategize. Billy wouldn’t mind.
But then I stopped short.
Jennifer was there, standing next to the sheriff right where she said she’d be. On her other side was a hovering Jackson James. He was talking at her. And smiling down at her. And standing too close.
Red alert!
My blood pressure spiked and my meander morphed into a power-walk.
“ . . . you should come more often.” Jackson finished his stupid sentence, his eyes lowering to her chest like a cheeseball, then back up to her eyes.
“Jenn,” I said very loudly, sidestepping Jackson and inserting myself between the two of them. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Have you?” she asked, her sweet face tipped back and her impossibly pretty eyes arresting mine.
“Yes. I have,” I said, then promptly forgot what I was going to say next. I sensed a hovering presence behind me so I glanced over my shoulder at Jackson—the hoverer—and frowned impatiently. “Do you mind? Give a man some space.”
“That’s real funny, Cletus,” he said, not sounding amused. “Because I was just—”
“Do you have any—uh—taffy?” I asked Jennifer, not wanting to hear Jackson’s complaining. If he was going to complain, I decided it was best to pretend he was a ghost. Taffy was the first thing to pop into my mind.
“Taffy?” Her dark eyebrows drew together; I wondered if her real hair color would be the same dark shade as her eyebrows. I hoped so.