Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(57)

I nodded, needing a cold shower. Searching frantically for something I could pick up and organize, I tugged my fingers through my hair.

“You should come swimming next time,” her voice continued. “It feels good.”

Keeping my brain focused on the task at hand was a struggle, therefore speech wasn’t presently an option. So, again, I nodded.

“Did you have a good nap? When did you wake up?” Her voice was closer.

I shrugged, bending to retrieve the pool noodle Ben had been whacking his little brother with and added it to the pile, standing and turning, and coming face-to-face with Scarlet.

Stiffening, I took a step back. I had not expected her to be so close.

“Watch out,” she said, her hands balled into fists and set on the dip of her waist. “If you take another step back, you’ll fall in the pool.”

I glanced behind me, seeing she was right, and turned back with the intention of extending my gratitude.

But before I could say thanks, she demanded, “Why are you being so quiet all the time?”

Startled, I stared at her and her flashing eyes. “I, uh—”

“You’ve barely spoken to me since last Wednesday.”

Sputtering and fighting a flare of panic, I asked a stupid question, “What do you want me to say?” and then I fought a cringe.

“I don’t know.” She threw her hands up, sending drops of water through the air like a fairy with pixie dust. “You might start by explaining yourself.”

“Explaining myself?”

“Yes. You may not like it, but we’re not going to have a future if we don’t talk about the past.”

I searched my monumentally confused brain. What else was there to discuss in our past? Ben was a selfish asshat, the end. Hadn’t we worked through everything already?

So I asked, “Explain myself about what?”

“How about why you kept the fact that Duane and Beau are my half-brothers a secret.” Scarlet’s chin jutted out. “Why’d you do that? Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

Ah. My smile was apologetic. “I do think you had a right to know, but I swore I’d never tell anyone. My mother was worried what your—” I lifted my attention to the horizon, stopping myself from calling that monster her father. I didn’t want to link her identity to his, she deserved so much better. Rearranging my thoughts and picking my words more carefully, I tried again, “My mother was afraid what Razor would do, if he found out Beau and Duane were Christine’s. She was worried—she was terrified—he’d make them disappear. I never told you out of respect to her, and for their continued safety.”

Scarlet’s mouth curved in a rueful line. As she processed my words, some of her irritation appeared to diminish, but it seemed to be replaced with a hint of melancholy.

“I understand keeping a secret out of respect for Bethany. I’m sure you’re aware, but not many people know the truth even now. Duane, Beau, and I haven’t made our relationship widely known. None of us want to embarrass your momma or disrespect her memory.”

“Yes. I’m aware y’all decided to keep it private.”

“And protecting them from Razor also makes sense. I had similar worries. So, I guess I understand why you didn’t tell me.” Even though she’d conceded my point, she still didn’t look too happy about it. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re being so quiet all the time.”

“Maybe I just miss listening to you talk.”

I realized immediately this statement was the wrong thing to say because Scarlet’s irritation flared anew. “Now that’s terrible reasoning. You think I want to carry every conversation? You think I don’t want to know about you? What’s going on inside that abnormally gorgeous head of yours? Say something. Anything. Talk about the weather.”

My lips tugged to the side. “The weather.”

“Honestly, Billy, I just want you to talk. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Then—” Making wild hand gestures, she huffed, then yelled, “Participate!”

I glanced over her head at the horizon again, hoping to find some answers there, endeavoring to discover a path forward. She was right. I wasn’t talking. I didn’t want to ruin a single moment with her, send her running and lose her again. So I’d been silent.

“Okay, fine.” Her words clipped, as though she’d just decided something. I sensed her advance on me, lift her hands just before they made contact with my chest. “Then, how about this—”

One second I was standing at the edge of the pool, and in the next I’d been shoved backward, free falling. The last thing I saw before being submerged was her determined yet satisfied smirk.

It wasn’t cold, but it was a surprise. Nevertheless, I quickly found my bearings and shot upward. Breaking the surface, I wiped my eyes in time to catch hers move over my soaking torso with a fair amount of appreciation.

“You feel better now?” I asked, looking my fill as well. Toned legs in bikini bottoms, the flare of her hips, the indent of her waist, the luscious curves of her breasts in that thin swim shirt. I could’ve looked all day except now my sense of justice demanded she end up in the pool with me.