Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(39)

Scarlet seemed to swallow around something thick, her eyes darting between mine and then to my mouth, her lips parting.

God in heaven, I wanted to kiss her. As close as I was, I could feel the heat of her skin, the restless energy of her body, and I wanted that bossy mouth of hers, I wanted those full lips, I wanted.

“But no one can ever have you,” I continued, the truth a bucket of ice water to the fire in my veins. Grit in my voice, I spoke what I knew was the truth. “Because you’re in love with hating yourself.”

She flinched, her eyes flashed, and I knew I’d hurt her as she volleyed in a suspiciously unsteady whisper, “Oh yeah? Well you’re in love with hating me.”

Her blow met its target, a stab right to the heart as regret coated my tongue sour. What was I doing?

Stop this.

I needed to stop trying to hurt her as a way to make myself matter to her, which was exactly how my father operated, and which was exactly what I’d just done. The only difference was, Darrell did it with ease, with no discomfort to himself. Whereas every time I lashed out at Scarlet, it was like cutting off one of my own limbs so I could witness her distress.

I was not this person. It was sick and it was wrong, and it needed to stop.

But before I could absorb the blow fully, before I could put distance between us, apologize for being despicable and leave her in peace once and for all, Scarlet’s face crumpled and she choked out, “I just want you to stop hating me.”

And then, from somewhere behind me, my brother Cletus’s voice said, “Am I interrupting something?”





Chapter Eight





Billy





“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.”

Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance





“Did it ever occur to you, one way or another, you and Scarlet are going to have to get along?”

I gave my brother a patient look, he hated that. “It’s past one in the morning, Cletus. Go to bed.”

Cletus and his wife Jenn, Beau and his lady Shelly, Ashley, her husband Drew, and their daughter Bethany had arrived, the plane touching down just two hours ago. I’d been told they were coming tomorrow, but apparently, I’d been told wrong.

Scarlet had seized upon Cletus’s sudden arrival, running past me, to him, into his arms for a big hug. Meanwhile, he’d glared at me over her shoulder. He’d taken his index and middle finger of one hand, pointed to his own eyes, and then pointed to me, mouthing, “I’m watching you.”

The next several moments were a flurry of activity, during which Scarlet evaded me by offering to show folks where they were sleeping and helping with bags. Jenn bustled in as Scarlet left and before I knew it, I had an apron on and was helping her finish the recipe Scarlet had started for some sort of dark chocolate cookies.

Then, with the deft grace and charm of a professional Cletus-handler, the exceptionally short woman escorted me to my bedroom, smiled at me patiently with her blinding smile and bluish-purplish eyes, and left me with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. But before she left, she’d placed a kiss on my forehead like I was a twelve-year-old.

And then, perplexed by what precisely had just happened, I’d turned and found my brother. Cletus. Lying on top of my bed with his hands behind his head. Which brings us to now.

Sitting up, Cletus skootched to the edge of my mattress and leaned forward, staring—but not glaring—at me, setting his elbows on his knees. “Here’s how it is: Duane and Beau are her brothers through her momma. Jethro is her best friend, Sienna and Scarlet are two boxes of wine away from forming a sister-wife commune. Jessica and Scarlet have been friends for going on seven or so years and Scarlet is one of the few people who can actually make Shelly laugh. Plus, according to Shelly, Scarlet naturally speaks in odd-numbered sentences, whatever that means. Point is, they’re close. It’s just a matter of time before Scarlet charms the pants off Simone like she’s done with Jenn and Ashley and Drew. Are you following the trail I’m leaving?”

Strolling to the desk, I set down the milk and cookies, crossed my arms and turned to face my brother. “You’re pointing out that Scarlet and I will see each other during various family functions.”

“Correct.”

“And, therefore,” I continued reasonably, “I need to be nice to her.” I knew that already, and tonight—after watching her face crumple and feeling a part of my soul shrivel at the sight—I’d finally accepted it. I would be nice. I would be so damn nice. I’d be a saint.

But then Cletus said, “No, Billy. Not nice. Nice is for tea parties and doctor’s visits. You need to woo her.”

I blinked once. “Woo her.”

“That’s right. You need to woo the pants off her, hopefully literally, and then make that woman yours. Permanently. Once and for all. Put a ring on it. Woo is where it’s at. Jenn still has the centerpieces from our wedding if you’d like to borrow them.” During this enlightening monologue, he’d moseyed over and picked up the glass of milk and a cookie, dunked the cookie into the milk, and then took a bite just as he’d finished his listings of delusions.

“That’s never going to happen.”

“Why not? Those centerpieces are lovely. You don’t know your color scheme yet. Ask Scarlet before you decide.”