Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(10)

“Yes, please, to both bun and butter,” he said, yawning again. “I’m so hungry. I don’t know why I’m so hungry. All I do is change diapers, hold Liam, try to sleep—usually unsuccessfully—and tell Jess how awesome she is.”

“Lack of sleep can make you hungry,” I said absentmindedly, tearing a bun off for my brother and bringing it to him along with two big pads of butter.

“Sorry we woke you up this morning.” He accepted the plate, licking his lips. “Janet and the Sheriff left a little while ago to check out some ruins or a church or something.” Janet was Mrs. James, Jess’s momma. “I think everyone else is still asleep. Did you get a chance to go back to sleep? Or have you been cooking all morning? What time is it anyway?”

“I think it’s almost one thirty. I went to the store, picked up a few things, no big deal.” There was no way I would’ve been able to go back to sleep this morning, not when I knew there was a Billy Winston right down the hall.

My hands were shaking. I gripped the back of a chair until they stopped. “I picked up more diapers and put them in the nursery,” I added.

“Ah, thanks for that.” The infant in his arms stirred, drawing Duane’s attention.

I watched as my brother gazed at his son, a soft smile claiming his features. He leaned down and kissed the tiny cheek while making a soft shushing sound. Goodness, even if he hadn’t been my brother, it was a sight that would’ve melted any heart.

But I wondered if the image was more precious to me because Duane and Liam were my kin, and because none of us—not Duane, nor his twin Beau, nor I—had known we were related until just a few years ago. More precious because, if the secret of Duane and Beau’s maternity had been kept indefinitely, maybe I wouldn’t have been here to experience this moment.

But Billy had known about it, and he’d never said a word to anyone.

This thought dampened some of the simmering anticipation in my belly. Even now, all these years later, I still couldn’t make up my mind what to think about seeing Billy Winston. He’d never told me Duane and Beau were my brothers, though he’d had plenty of opportunity. It made me wonder what else he’d been keeping secret.

And wasn’t that just shit on a shoe? Here I was still longing for a man who’d lied to me about my brothers. For years. Years!

“Why do babies smell so good?” Duane asked, pulling me from my darkening thoughts.

“Um.” Coming back to myself, I sidestepped away from my brother and closer to the tray I’d placed on the table. I picked up a large bowl, moved to the stove, and ladled two generous servings of soup while I spoke. “I’m sure there’s a scientific reason, probably something about hormones and the like. I don’t honestly know. But I agree, babies smell like heaven.”

“What’s the tray for? And all that stuff you put on it. Is that for Jess? She’s asleep, finally.”

Another rush of nerves had me releasing the ladle into the pot with a clatter, and I internally rolled my eyes at myself.

I was not this person. I was not a nervous, jumpy person. Not anymore. Growing up, being wary and watchful had been a requirement for survival. But all that was a long time ago, a different life, a different time, a different person. I was an adult now, a working singer-songwriter, a professional musician. I was not a jumpy, sweaty, anxiety-riddled teenager. Just because Billy Winston was under this roof didn’t mean I had to let him under my skin.

Determined to quit being so anxious, I turned to Duane and worked to keep my voice light. “Oh, this? This is for your brother.”

“My brother?”

“Uh, the second one.”

“The second one?” Duane lifted an eyebrow. “You mean Billy?”

“Yeah. When I talked to Cletus this morning on the phone, he asked that I make sure your brother eats some good food.” I set the bowl back on the tray, arranging the napkin and spoon just so, and then shifting the small bud vase with two vibrant, red wild poppies back and to the side.

“Cletus asked you?”

For some reason, his question made me feel guilty, like I’d been caught in a lie even though I was telling the truth. “Yeah, well, you and Jess got enough to deal with, and Jet and Sienna just got in, plus they have the boys to look after. Janet and the Sheriff want to sightsee, and that makes sense. But I’m just here kinda in an extra capacity, if you think about it, only having myself to look after for the most part. And so, it makes sense that I be the one to feed, uh, B-Billy . . . uh, food . . . and, uh, such . . .”

Duane’s gaze sharpened (or dulled, depending on how you look at it) and morphed into a stare. Holding still except for the twisting of my fingers, I knew I was behaving strangely, but I’d never been good at wrestling my guilt. Even if it was baseless, the guilt always won, but I was working on it. I’d been working to forgive myself.

So, you know what, Mr. Guilt? Go take a long rollercoaster ride on an unfinished track.

“Claire.”

I started. “Duane.”

“You nervous about something?”

I tore my eyes away. “No. Not at all.” My voice was so high, it was almost falsetto.

“’Cause you’re acting nervous.”

Now I forced my voice deeper, asking, “Am I?” and cringing when it came out baritone this time. Curse my vocal range!