Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)
Penny Reid
Prologue
Cletus
“Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.”
George Burns
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?”
I gave my youngest brother’s hand a pat where it rested on the covers of his hospital bed, checking the watch on my wrist. Jethro was late.
“All will be revealed, Roscoe. All will be revealed,” I assured, assuredly. Poor kid, they’d made him shave his beard. The youngest of us seven kids, his chronological age was twenty-six, but he looked like a ten-year-old.
He should’ve let me shave a design in his stubble, it would’ve impressed the nurses. Next time. While he’s asleep.
“It better be revealed, Cletus.” This threat came from Duane, one-half of our twin brothers and number six in our family. Beau, the other twin, had been born first, which made him number five. Duane was the grumpy one, that was his role. “I have a plane to catch. Jessica’s due date is tomorrow.”
“We’re all aware of your progeny’s ETA, Duane.” I gentled my voice despite his terse tone. “Once everyone gets here, we’ll get started.”
I shared a quick glance with Beau, who was no help. He seemed to find his twin brother’s anxiety endlessly entertaining. Beau was the only other person who knew why I’d called the meeting. I’d filled him in on the particulars last week, needing an accomplice. It might be a shock, but my family didn’t always recognize the superiority of my stratagems, and you know something is a winner if it’s made up of the words “strata” and “gems.”
Plus, everyone liked Beau. He was the obvious choice for coconspirator.
That said, Duane’s present surly nervousness was for good reason. His partner in travels, life, and in matrimony, Ms. Jessica James-Winston, was forty weeks pregnant with their first child. Now, if she’d been an elephant, she’d have another fifty-five weeks to go. But she was not an elephant.
She was the local sheriff’s daughter and a sweet girl, although she could be a real sassy-britches from time to time. Duane was only here with us on account of Roscoe almost dying a few weeks ago (Don’t panic! He’s out of the woods now.)
Meanwhile, Jessica was living out her last pregnant days in Tuscany (Italy) with her parents, waiting for the arrival of Duane Jr., or Jessica Jr., or whatever they were planning to call the baby.
Speaking of which, “Hey, Duane.”
“Yeah?”
“What’re you naming that baby?”
Our sister, number four and the only girl in our brood, made a soft sound; I interpreted it to be of the reprimanding kind. “Cletus Byron Winston, stop asking Duane what they’re going to name the baby. Let him have his secrets.”
I lifted an eyebrow at my sister’s pretty face and she in turn lifted an eyebrow at me. We were close in age, Ashley and I, since she was the next to be born after I graced the world with my magnanimous presence. This made me lucky number three in the family. That’s right, the number three is lucky. It’s a well-established fact of the universe. Everyone knows it.
“I’m here!”
Like synchronized swimmers pivoting in unison, we all lifted our heads and attention to the door, watching as Jethro made his entrance.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his brown beard and hair a fright. “I had to change my clothes. Andy had diarrhea, and—”
I lifted a hand, stopping our oldest brother—number one—from continuing with his tale of number two (where the “number two” is poop).
“Jethro, I think we’ll all live a complete life never knowing why your son having diarrhea has any bearing on your tardiness.”
Jethro sighed, crossing his arms and giving me what he probably thought was an irritated look. It was not. I suspected my oldest brother’s face wasn’t actually capable of arranging itself into a frown.
“Wait. What about Billy?” Duane asked about the only Winston sibling missing from our assemblage. “Where’s Billy?” The grumpy twin scratched his neatly trimmed red beard, glancing between me and Jethro.
Well, here goes nothing.
I stepped forward. Everyone turned their eyes to me. Even though I was the shortest of my brothers—at a mere six feet—I had the biggest presence when I so chose.
“I’m glad you asked, Duane. Jethro.” I motioned to the door my oldest brother had just run through. “Will you shut that, please? I’ll be touching on sensitive information, and I’d prefer if these earth-shattering revelations didn’t leave this room.”
Ashley’s blue eyes narrowed, and she crossed to stand next to Roscoe, threading her fingers into the dark hair at his temples. “Hold on now. Earth-shattering? This isn’t going to agitate Roscoe, is it?”
“No, Ash. It’s not that kind of earth-shattering,” I said, but then my eyes moved up and to the right. “Well, I don’t think it’s that kind of earth-shattering.”
“Cletus,” Beau said, right on cue. A small smile hovered on his lips and twinkled behind his eyes, which is to say he was looking at me with his normal expression. “Do you want me to start?”