Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(60)

What I wanted to do was throw her over my shoulder, take her back to the house, spend the morning, afternoon, night, next morning, afternoon, and night exploring every inch of her magnificent body and learning all the ways she liked to be touched. But if I did, she’d spill the strawberries.

“Well, hello. Where y’all coming from?” Ashley leaned back, peering up at us.

“There’s a gym with a weight room down the drive,” Beau answered distractedly, circling the blanket to kneel next to Shelly. “What do you have there? Are those scones? Can I have some?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, giving him a small smile and breaking her scone in half. I noticed she offered him the bigger piece. “Here.”

He grinned at her, but then he leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth, giving the corner of her lips a lick. “You had something, just there. Don’t worry, I got it for you,” he said, lying.

“Are you hungry?” Scarlet asked softly, her question for me, lifting up her plate of strawberries.

I swallowed thickly as I contemplated the offering. But then, glancing around at my family, everyone but Shelly and Beau were watching us.

I shook my head. “No. Thank you.”

Ashley heaved an exaggerated sigh. The look in her eyes seemed to communicate frustration, but her tone was light as she said, “We were just talking about the plans for the Venice trip coming up. Are you coming, Billy?”

Shoving my hands in my shorts pockets, I shrugged. “I believe I am. Duane cleared my calendar with Becca.” And I doubt I’ll have a choice.

“Well, Claire says she’s thinking about staying here,” Jessica said, and I shifted my eyes to Duane’s wife. Her pretty brown gaze was narrowed, one might even call it pointed. I did my best to read the womanly instruction there, but clearly I was missing something because—after a time—she also sighed. “Do you think Claire should come?”

“You should ask Claire,” I said, the answer obvious. “If she wants to go, then she should. If she doesn’t, it’s up to her.”

“But you’re going?” This question came from Jethro, and I looked to him. I got the sense he was trying to help. With what, I had no idea.

“Yes . . . ?” I said slowly, glancing between him and Ashley, searching for some sign as to what they wanted me to do. Both were looking at me intently, like they were waiting for me to finish a critical thought. At a loss and forced to guess, I addressed Scarlet. “And you should go. There’s no reason you shouldn’t go. Duane and Beau are your brothers. This is your family too.”

She nodded, a polite smile on her face, and her eyes dropped to her plate. “Yes. Absolutely. I’ve always wanted to see Venice.”

I nodded too, looking to Ashley for confirmation I’d done what she wanted. Instead, her lips were pressed in a flat line and her head was moving back and forth in the barest of headshakes. It was the expression she used to give the twins after they did something monumentally idiotic.

“Uh, Billy.” Beau stood, his tone easy but his gaze preoccupied. “Come with me for a sec, I wanted to show you this one thing over here. Jet, you too.”

Giving the ladies a tight smile—even though Jess, Ashley, and Shelly were looking at me like I was an extreme disappointment, even little Bethany was scowling in my direction—I turned and followed Beau, walking back into the orchard and almost to the place where we’d spotted the picnic originally.

As soon as I reached my brothers, Jethro looked me over, visibly dismayed. “That’s the best you could do? Reminding her that she’s related to Duane and Beau?”

Beau made a face of dismay. “Cletus was right. You do need our help.”

I reared back, splitting my attention between them. “Pardon me?”

“You gotta let us help.” Jethro lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Help? Help with what?”

“You’re out of practice, Billy. When’s the last time you went on a date? When’s the last time you flirted with a woman? You’re too gruff. Not every conversation is a senate hearing. Claire has a soft heart, she needs tenderness.” Beau gave me a sympathetic smile.

A disbelieving sound escaped me. “Are you serious? You want to give me advice about Claire?”

“No. We want to give you advice about women,” Beau said, sharing a glance with Jethro.

“I’m great with women.” I was. I was fantastic with women.

Beau set his hands on his hips. “Then why do you keep crashing and burning with Claire?”

“Here’s the plan,” Jethro cut in before I could object again. “We’ll take everyone back up to the house, make up some reason. They know what’s up, so they’ll come along.”

“They know what’s up?” I nearly choked.

“Right.” Beau ignored my question. “Now, you stay with Claire, offer to help her carry the stuff back up when she’s ready, but sit down so it’s clear you’d like to stay. You’ll have complete privacy, we’ll keep everyone at the house. Compliment what she’s wearing, or tell her you like it. Say something like, ‘I like this dress on you.’ Just that simple.”

Jethro glanced over my shoulder to the women in the distance and then stepped closer. “Then ask what she’s up to today, what she’s doing tomorrow, what her plans are this week, what she thought of the museums in Florence. Get her talking. And if you see an opportunity for a double entendre? Take it.”