Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(5)

“Good. That’s settled.” Duane took another step toward the center of the room. “So what’s the plan?” he asked, sounding curious instead of surly.

I smiled just slightly, unable to help myself, and said, “You know the old saying, You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink? Well, it’s true. You can’t force it, unless you feed it salt, or . . .” My slight smile grew. “Unless you drown the horse.”





Chapter One





Claire





“You’ll never be able to find yourself if you’re lost in someone else.”

Colleen Hoover, November 9





The early bird is never a friend to the night owl. At present, I was both.

Yawning behind my hand, I strained my ears, trying to figure out who owned the murmuring voices just outside my door. I then reached for my phone on the night table and squinted at the clock. Just shy of 5:00 a.m.

Early bird indeed.

Adjusting to the time change between Nashville and Chianti had been slow going, this being my second week in Italy. Though it could’ve been my third. I’d lost track of the days recently as I’d been up and down in the middle of the night trying to help my half-brother Duane and his wife/my good friend Jessica with their brand-new baby.

Plus, you know, I was in Tuscany. Who needs to sleep in Tuscany? The correct answer to this question is virtually nobody. If one finds oneself lucky enough to be in Tuscany, one ought never to waste time sleeping.

A person’s time in Tuscany should be spent largely on three pursuits: wine drinking, food eating, and appreciating all the gorgeousness—including the art, views, and Italians. Unless the person in question was a new baby. Obviously, new babies shouldn’t be wine drinking.

You might as well get up and help take care of the world’s cutest infant.

Besides, it would give me some time to work on my early bird joke. Everyone’s heard, The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese, right? Well, I felt like the word wormhole—associated with space travel and whatnot—was a missed opportunity for an early bird joke. Something like, Why’d the early bird end up in Alpha Centauri? Because he took a wrong turn at the wormhole.

. . . Blah. Needs work, Scarlet.

Stretching my arms over my head as I sat up, I didn’t bother to remind myself that my name hadn’t been Scarlet for the last sixteen years. For better or for worse, I usually still thought of myself as Scarlet, not Claire McClure. This was especially true when I was doing, or thinking, or had just said something foolish. Good thing no one could hear my internal thoughts other than me; I probably sounded like a loon.

The voices outside my door persisted, not growing louder, but not fading away either. Jess’s parents were here, Sheriff and Mrs. James, but I doubted either of them was up this early. Except, actually, maybe the Sheriff?

Jessica’s daddy arose early some mornings and held the baby after the 5:30 a.m. feeding. Claiming the little tyke, he’d watch the sunrise, and then made us all breakfast while holding baby Liam in a sling. Thank goodness for Sheriff and Mrs. James. They were the only ones here who had any experience with babies.

Soon, my long-time friend Jethro Winston and his awesome wife, Sienna Diaz, were scheduled to arrive in a week or so, maybe more, sometime in mid-June. In my present groggy state, I couldn’t remember.

At thirty-six, Jethro was the oldest brother in the Winston family. He and Sienna had been married some years—four maybe?—and they had three adorable little boys. I was both looking forward to and dreading all the youthful energy. On the one hand, those kids were hilarious and lethal levels of cute, having inherited an insane amount of charisma and good looks from both their momma and their daddy.

On the other hand, I hadn’t been sleeping much, and I didn’t know if I had the energy to be jet-lagged, a night nurse for baby William Beauford Winston (but they call him Liam), and run around with Jethro’s mischievous children all day. But truth be told? I was looking forward to finding out.

In my opinion, there was no such thing as too much family, especially when you grew up with none fit to speak of.

“He hasn’t eaten anything? Nothing at all?” Duane’s hushed questions carried into my room, palpable worry pitching his voice higher.

The worry had me ignoring the bathrobe lying on the bench at the foot of my bed and quick-walking to my door. Baby Liam ain’t eating? Does he have a fever? He seemed fine—absolutely perfect—when I left him at midnight with Jess.

“How about before he went to sleep? He didn’t eat anything?” Duane pressed, obviously agitated.

I’d just placed my hand on the door latch when I heard a whispered voice respond, “Not anything,” and I stopped short because I’d know that voice anywhere.

Sienna was here? Already?!

Wait, how long have I been in Italy?

I’d known Jethro and Sienna were flying over, but I could’ve sworn they weren’t due for another week. Closing my eyes, I reminded myself not to be a complete goofball around the movie star.

I don’t mean to brag, but I know the Oscar-winning movie star, writer, comedian, and brilliant woman, Sienna Diaz. We have a relationship. We tweet at each other. I’d even feel comfortable saying we’re friends. We’re also sorta family, though it’s not technically true. But that’s a long story of tangled secrets and hillbilly history. Better not get into that now.