Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(77)

Her mouth opened wider and she stared at me like I was nuts, shaking her head. “Billy Winston, what are you doing?”

“Making dinner plans.” I gave her a small smile and her gaze dropped to my lips. She blinked, like the sight of my smile also surprised her.

When her eyes lifted, they seemed sharper. “Do you want to come to Rome with me?” she asked.

“Why, yes. Thank you for asking. I accept.”

Laughter burst out of her, her eyes big and disbelieving, but also unmistakably charmed—thank God.

She shoved my shoulder with her fingertips. “You sneak!”

“Hey now.” I caught her hand before she could withdraw and placed soft kisses on the backs of her fingers and then on the inside of her wrist. The skin was so soft and reminded me of her other soft places. “If you call me those kinds of names, I might change my mind.”

“Oh yeah?” She split her attention between my mouth and eyes. “Change your mind about what? Tricking me into inviting you to Rome?”

“Oh no. I’m not changing my mind about that. I tricked you, you offered, I accepted. We’re spending a week together in Rome.” I lowered her hand to my leg, leaning closer as I pressed her fingers to my thigh. My heart soared when she took over and slid her hand higher.

Scarlet’s smile fell away, but her gaze grew warm, hazy, her cheeks pink. “Then what will you change your mind about?” she whispered.

I dropped my eyes to her lips, her hand moving to the interior of my leg as mine settled on her hip. I curled my middle finger into the belt loop of her jeans and a hot, short breath escaped her mouth. My grin widened.

“I might change my mind about whether to eat dinner before or after I—”

Suddenly, someone was snapping their fingers between our faces. Flinching back, I followed the arm up to my brother’s surly expression.

“All right, all right. Way to overachieve, William. But now’s not the time. Y’all had all day to do this, put a pin in it.” Cletus dropped his hand from between our faces and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a pen. “What’re you playing first? And do you take requests? If so, Jethro wants ‘La Vie en rose’ by that French lady. If Roscoe were here, he’d know how to pronounce it right.” From his other pocket he pulled out a packet of Post-it Notes.

While Cletus spoke, Scarlet snatched her hand back and faced him, blinking furiously like she’d truly forgotten where she was as we’d talked—I mean, as we’d flirted.

Good.

If Scarlet had let our surroundings fade to the periphery, maybe some of her weariness, worries, and struggles had faded as well.

“I—I guess we can take requests,” Scarlet stuttered, sneaking a glance at me.

I gave her a small smile which—thankfully—had her bestowing me with a second look. As much as I cherished the blush that bloomed over her neck and cheeks, I cherished the sweet hopefulness in her stare even more.

“We’ll take requests within reason, Cletus.” I lifted my chin to peer up at my brother. “Scarlet doesn’t need to be singing all night. And no ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’”

“Well, shoot. There goes that idea,” Cletus mumbled, scratching his forehead. Turning, he lifted his voice to address the room, “Okay, listen up. Claire is going to sing and we got Billy on guitar. Billy will also be singing.”

“I never said I was going to sing.”

“Like I said, Billy is going to sing,” he said, like I hadn’t spoken. “If you have any requests, I got a pad of paper here. Just write them down and our duet will be happy to oblige. Also, Duane, no showing off please. We all know you’re the superior dancer, i.e. no lifts.”

“Jess just had a baby, Cletus.” Duane gave his eyes the beginning of an eye roll. “I wasn’t going to do any lifts.”

“Good.”

“But there’ll be some spins and dipping,” Duane warned, his arm coming around his wife’s waist.

“Fine.” Cletus twisted over his shoulder and settled his distracted glare on me. “Did you decide what you’re playing first?”

I glanced at Scarlet. She glanced at me. And before I could think better of it, I suggested, “’Ring of Fire’?”

“Are you really going to sing with me?” She asked, like she was afraid I’d pull the rug out from under her, change my mind at the last minute. Her guarded eyes and cautious excitement did something to me, made my chest tight with regret.

I hated that I’d ever given her a reason to approach me with caution instead of trust.

Leaning in, I said for her ears only, “I promise, if you’ll have me, I’ll sing with you whenever or wherever you want. But only with you, Scarlet. I only want to sing with you.”

Her eyes brightened, her smile widened, and happiness shone from her, sunrays, moonbeams, and starlight.

Uncontainable.

Breathtaking.

Scarlet.





The last song we performed for everyone was “Come Away With Me” by Norah Jones. They seemed to be in a mood to do more than dance by the end of it and couples left the music room, citing all sorts of unnecessary excuses.

Through some implicit agreement, I continued to play the guitar and she continued to sing even after everyone else had cleared the room. I think I could’ve sat with her forever, listening to her hypnotic voice, watching her, being close. But in the end, we only played a few more songs, a soft rendition of “Free Fallin’,” a quiet version of “I’ll Fly Away.” At the end of “Broken Hearts,” Scarlet tried to hide a yawn behind her hand and I knew our time was up.