The Last One(50)

“ ... and then Trent says, ‘But I’m hotter than he is. What does he have that I don’t?’ And of course I’m laughing so hard, and Flynn’s giving me the look of death—” Ali broke off mid-sentence when she saw me. Meghan glanced up, the knife in her hand coming to a halt in mid-air. Her eyes met mine, and the air in the room was suddenly steamier than it had been outside.

“There you are.” Ali looked nearly as flustered as Meghan and me, and I realized what she’d been saying when I’d interrupted. I hadn’t heard that name on her lips in a very long time. What had happened between my sister and her high school boyfriend all those years ago had never been clear to me. All I knew was that for four years, they’d been inseparable, and then on graduation day, something had gone wrong and Flynn Evans had left. His parents still lived in town, but to the best of my knowledge, their son hadn’t ever returned.

“Yeah, here I am.” I reached over my sister’s shoulder and snagged a cucumber slice. “I thought I was going to be late for supper, but it’s not even ready. What’s up with that?”

Ali smacked my hand away. “Stop it. Yes, we’re running a little late. Bridge and I went over to Fred’s with Meghan, to paint his horses.”

“I didn’t know they needed a touch-up.” I traded my dirty shirt for a clean one in the laundry room, aware of Meghan’s eyes following me. The tip of her tongue shot out to wet her upper lip, and my stomach turned over. I had to focus hard to avoid walking across the room and pulling her against my body. I wanted every inch of her touching me.

“Smartass.” Ali shook her head. “You know what I mean. Meghan gave Bridget a lesson on scale and proportion. And they painted on canvas, too. The pictures are in the living room. You should go check them out.”

Getting out of the kitchen seemed like a very good idea. I turned my back on the women and went to examine two canvases propped against the sofa. It was apparent which one my niece had painted, though I noticed an improvement over her other horse drawings. But Meghan’s made my jaw drop. It was like I was standing in my neighbor’s pasture, and I half-expected Rummy, the horse in the foreground, to lift his head and whinny at me. This girl’s talent blew me away.

“Okay, we’re ready to eat.” Meghan leaned through the doorway to call me. She smiled, brushing an escaped strand of hair behind her ear, and pointed at the paintings. “So what do you think?”

“Freaking amazing. How do you get it to look so real?”

She shrugged. “Years of training and hard work. And trade secrets. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She winked at me. “Bridget did a good job, too, didn’t she? I think she’s got talent. I know she has a good eye.”

“Yeah.” We stood for a minute, staring at each other, neither of us moving. I let my gaze sweep down her, taking in the clinging white T-shirt and cut off denim shorts that made her legs look endless. I pictured them wrapped around my waist, and breathing became an issue.

“Hey, are we eating or what?” Ali stood behind Meghan, the salad bowl in her hands. “I know it’s a cold dinner, but I’m starving. Come on, you two.”

Bridget chattered through most of the meal, telling me about everything she had learned from Meghan that afternoon. I saw the gleam of hero worship in my niece’s eyes and thought I’d been right on with what I’d told Meghan the night before. If Bridge thought I was dating her beloved art teacher, she’d start imagining weddings and new cousins. This was a kid who craved a big family, and I couldn’t deal with the inevitable disappointment I knew she’d suffer.

Dinner finished, Bridget cleared the table and ran outside to do some sketching before the sun went down. After the screen door slammed behind her, Ali leaned back in her chair and studied me.

“So, big brother, I have to say I was kind of shocked you weren’t waiting up for us last night. I expected a full interrogation when we got home.”

I folded my napkin into a small square, not meeting her eyes. “You’re both adults. I’m not your father or your husband.” I was both surprised and relieved that Meghan hadn’t told her that I had in fact been waiting on the porch to make sure they made it home alive.

“Hmmm.” Ali tilted her head. “And you’re not at all interested in what happened at the bar?”

I lifted one shoulder. “I figure if it’s something I need to know, you’ll tell me. You came home, so obviously you didn’t get picked up by some drunk cowboy.”