Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(59)

“Billy,” she whispered, but it sounded more like a moan.

“I—I should change,” I said inanely, talking mostly to myself. “I’m all wet.”

“Then we’re even,” she said, placing a soft kiss on my neck, her hand capturing mine and bringing it first to her breast and then lower to her stomach.

Realizing her ultimate destination for my fingers, I imagined what would happen next. Squeezing my eyes shut, I stiffened my arm. She didn’t know, she couldn’t know, how very fierce and wild my want for her was. And as much as I desperately wanted to touch her body, make her moan and plead, I wasn’t going to do that against the rocks next to the pool.

Or on the grass.

Or in the pool.

Not for our first time.

She deserved rose petals and champagne, candles and music, silk sheets and seduction, romance and passion. Not just passion.

Resolved, I found the necessary thread of self-control at the last minute and I removed her hand from my wrist, stepping away. And then I took another two steps back, just to be safe.

“Scarlet—”

“What?” she snapped, heaving a watery sounding sigh that had my eyes flying open. Glaring at me, her cheeks red, her arms crossed, her shoulders lifted helplessly. “What, Billy? What? What can I do?”

“It’s not you.”

“I know.” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and firmed her chin before continuing. “It’s you. And your lack of interest in touching me.”

“No.” Now I stepped forward, but she lifted her hands, turning her face to one side and walking around me.

“Forget it. Okay? You need time. Fine.” I heard her sniffle as she walked quickly away, breaking into a jog as she reached the gate. “I took time, now you need time. I took years to think things over, you had a week. It’s fine. Take your time.”

Ugh. Watching her leave felt like thousands of thumbtacks being pressed into my chest. But my sluggish, lust-soaked brain couldn’t figure out what to say, how to explain before she disappeared.

I’d worked so hard to say nothing, I’d ended up giving her nothing instead.





Chapter Thirteen





Billy





“I think of you only twice a day - when I am alone and when I am with someone else.”

Amit Kalantri, I Love You Too





First thing in the morning, after another sleepless night, I changed into workout clothes and headed downstairs. A few days ago, Duane had mentioned in passing that the property had a small gym and weight room down the gravel driveway and on the far side of the roundabout parking area. No time like the present to exhaust myself. Then maybe, after a shower, I’d find Scarlet and—

And . . .

Well, I’d do something.

After what happened at the pool yesterday, she’d been polite for the rest of the day. Not cold. Not warm. Just polite. Turns out the only thing worse than her constant little touches was when she withheld them.

I didn’t blame her. It was clear she was frustrated, and not just because of what she called my lack of interest in touching her. She wanted me to talk to her. I needed to talk to her. I would. Today, I will find her and I will talk to her.

That much decided, I further determined I’d focus on chest and arms in the weight room. Look at me, deciding things. Finally.

To my surprise, Jethro and Beau were already up and working out. This simplified matters considerably. We took turns spotting each other, and by the time we were finished, the sun was much higher in a partly cloudy sky, fully committed to day.

“You want to go swimming?” Beau wiped his forehead with a towel. “Sure is hot today. You need to borrow some swim shorts, Billy?” Beau stepped off the long driveway, clearly planning to cut across the olive orchard instead of taking the longer, gravel path to the main house. “I have an extra pair.”

“Maybe later.”

“Hey.” Jet hit my shoulder lightly with the back of his hand. “If this orchard is too much like forest for you, you should stay close. Otherwise you may get lost.”

Beau chuckled.

“Shut it,” I grumbled, not precisely smiling. My family, especially Jethro, never let me live down the fact that I always got lost in the woods.

“Hey, who’s that?” Beau pointed at a barley field beyond the orchard and—after stopping, squinting, and straining my ears—I realized Scarlet was at least one of the people. The other three looked to be Jess, Shelly, and Ashley.

“We should go over and say hi,” Jethro suggested cheerfully.

My oldest brother, eyes on me, was precisely smiling, like he knew a secret about me. My frown was immediate. Here we go.

“Hey ladies!” Beau shouted, already walking toward them. “Y’all want to go—Wait, is that food?”

With a parting twinkle in his eyes, Jethro followed Beau, leaving me to bring up the rear with my suspicions. Soon, we were upon the gathering, which was obviously a morning picnic. Bethany came into view, picking red poppies among the green barley and handing them to her mother.

It was a sweet picture and I would’ve taken one, except Scarlet’s gaze locked with mine as soon as we cleared the trees, and I couldn’t seem to do much more than look at her and stand upright. She wore that pink summer dress, the one with strings at the shoulders holding it up. Her hair was in a loose braid and her lips were red as strawberries, probably because she had strawberries on her plate.