Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(13)

“Oh, leave off, Aaron.” Peggy jumped onto the bed Rita hadn’t chosen, bouncing into a crossed-legged position. She lowered her voice to a whisper, passing a conspiratorial look over to Rita. “That man was wicked hot. I doubt many girls would pass up a chance for a ride.”

Belmont and Aaron’s expressions mirrored their disgust. “Your brothers are literally right here, in the room, Peggy.”

“I meant a ride on his bike. Mostly.” Peggy threw herself backwards on the bed with a monumental eye roll. “Either way, I’m twenty-five years old. I’ve been engaged to four different penises. Innuendoes will be launched at will.”

Aaron looked as though he wanted to argue, but he visibly shook off the urge and refocused on Rita. “Far be it from me to give you a hard time—”

Peggy snort-laughed. “He said hard time. Right after I—”

“Please stop.” Aaron held up both hands. “I just find it surprising that some y’all-in’ Dukes of Hazzard look-alike would be Rita’s type.” He brushed dust off the ancient wooden dresser and sat, arms crossed. “He’s nothing like Gerard.”

Rita toed off her boot and kicked it in Aaron’s direction. “You did not just bring up Gerard.”

“I definitely just brought him up.”

“Is this why you agreed to come along? To needle me until I’m carried off in a straitjacket?” Rita began shoveling through the items of her duffel bag with no idea what she was looking for. She just needed a distraction from the ball of heat spinning madly in her belly, the way it had been doing nonstop since—since I’ll be twice as determined to get that kiss. Rita realized she was staring blankly at a bottle of shampoo and shoved it back into her bag. God, she needed a distraction. Or she might actually consider venturing out to a place called the Liquor Hole in pursuit of the town cool guy, who’d probably already forgotten her name. “Okay, talk about Gerard.”

Peggy sat up. “He ate my hamster.”

“That is hearsay and you know it.” Peggy stared back at her blankly, forcing Rita to unearth the litany she’d been reciting in defense of her eighth-grade boyfriend since they’d gone their separate ways one night in their driveway. Just another middle-school romance pulled beneath the undertow of favorite-band disagreements and acne outbreaks. “He didn’t have motive or opportunity to eat your hamster, Peggy.”

“He so had motive,” Aaron chimed in. “You broke up with him because he wasn’t vampiric enough. That was your Twilight phase, remember?”

“I hate you.”

“I liked Fluffy,” Belmont said, drawing everyone’s attention. “He was good company.”

Peggy started to cry.

Aaron stood. “That’s my cue to leave.”

Belmont followed him out the door a moment later, casting a final backward glance of horror at his crying youngest sister. A look Rita understood well, because she’d never dealt well with Emotional Roller Coaster Peggy either. Rita herself hadn’t cried in years. Even at Miriam’s funeral she’d been too numb to do anything but stare straight ahead.

They’d all reacted differently that day. Peggy had sobbed. Belmont had watched the proceedings from the back row while Aaron acted as their mouthpiece, shaking hands and accepting condolences. There’d been a tangible resentment toward one another by the time it was over; whether it was in defense of their own way of grieving or disapproval of one another’s methods had never been clear. She only recalled them driving away without saying good-bye.

Girding her loins at the prospect of comforting her younger sister, Rita turned—

And found Peggy smiling. “Got rid of them for you, didn’t it?”

Rita failed to hide her surprise. “Wow. You’ve finally harnessed your powers for good. Or maybe that was evil.” She rose and started to pace, her socks catching on the scratchy brown carpet. “Belmont looked traumatized.”

“He always looks like that.”

“True.” It had been a joke, but Peggy’s statement drew her up short. “Is he okay? This thing with Sage…What is this thing with Sage?”

“Complicated. That’s what it is.” Peggy twirled a curl around her finger. “I’d rather talk about you.”

That was the second time someone had said those very words to her in less than an hour. Which was a little disconcerting since she could count on one hand the times in her life someone had expressed a desire to talk about her. “If this is about Jasper—”

“Oh, it is.” Peggy’s teeth sank into her bottom lip. “If we’d pulled in a few minutes later, he would have been pulling out.”

“You really meant what you said about innuendo.” Rita noticed herself fidgeting and stopped. “There’s nothing to talk about. You know that kind of guy who flirts with whoever’s available? That’s all it was.”

Peggy wasn’t having it. “Rita, not that you aren’t hot in your own right, but he didn’t even give me passing consideration. And these shorts earned me my most recent marriage proposal.”

“Yeah, about that—”

“Eh. Nice try. Back to motorcycle dude.”

Rita gave herself a sidelong look in the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary. For her, anyway. She hadn’t switched up her look in over a decade. Heavy eyeliner, thick bangs ending even with her eyebrows. If she peered closely, she could see the Clarkson good looks buried deep, but her siblings far outshone her in every category. If she were to don Peggy’s shorts, she’d look like a pasty chicken. The faded black jeans currently covering her scrawny butt were Rita’s favorite because she’d once camped out on the sidewalk in them for two days, hoping to score Megadeth tickets. There was a tiny hole in the pocket where she’d gotten bored during the eleventh hour and tunneled through the material with a ballpoint pen.