Beard Necessities: Winston Brothers Book #7

by Penny Reid

  “Well, for starters—”

  “Hey, you two! No running around the pool!” Sienna yelled from somewhere, stopping us both in our tracks.

  We looked around, searching for her, but found no one. Glancing back to Scarlet, I realized she was still distracted, looking for Jethro’s wife. No time like the present to take advantage. I stalked closer. By the time Scarlet took notice, it was too late. I had her cornered.

  Startled, she glanced to her left and then to her right, looking for an escape. Unless she planned to climb up the rock surface at her back, the only way to freedom was through me, and I couldn’t help my wicked grin as her eyes widened with the realization.

  Then, they narrowed. “See? Not fair.”

  I felt my smile widen, my earlier fears forgotten for the moment. “Just because I’m winning doesn’t mean it’s not fair.”

  She crossed her arms. “But you were going to win no matter what. You’re bigger and stronger. You can easily pick me up, carry me to the pool, and toss me in.”

  “And you’re smaller and faster,” I said reasonably, inching closer, my arms spread to catch her just in case she decided to make a run for it. “If you’d wanted to get away, you could’ve already.”

  She gave me a quelling look, lifting her chin. “Are you implying that I wish to be thrown in the pool?”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not.” I shrugged, liking this expression on her face a little too much, like I was naughty and she thoroughly disapproved of me. I wondered if this had been what she was like with her misbehaving students when she’d taught high school drama. Good Lord, I suddenly felt sorry for all the hormonal teenagers in her class.

  “You could always . . .” I began, close enough now to let my eyes wander, lower to her neck, the zipper at the front of her swim shirt. “Offer something else,” I finished, telling myself I was joking.

  It was just a joke.

  However, and maybe it was ungentlemanly of me to notice, her nipples puckered suddenly, pushing against the thin fabric of her swim shirt. My gaze lifted to her face and I found none of her earlier disapproval. It had been replaced with a hazy, hot expression.

  And that definitely got a reaction out of me.

  Scarlet’s lips parted, her eyes moving between mine, searching, her breaths growing shallower the closer I came, and any illusions I’d had about my statement being just a joke dwindled to nothing.

  “Scarlet,” I said for no reason other than I wanted to say her name, her real name. I wanted to hear it while she looked at me this way, remind myself that she still existed, even if at some point in the future she existed somewhere beyond my reach.

  She swayed forward as her lashes flickered, her hands rising to grab fistfuls of my wet shirt, her attention focused on my mouth. “What—” she said roughly, swallowed, licked her lips. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, stepping completely into her space and against her. God, I was so hard, and I didn’t care if she felt me. No, that’s not true. I wanted her to feel it. In my sudden madness, I wanted her to know.

  She shivered, her breath hitching even as she pressed her body more fully against mine, like she’d been waiting for me to move. Like this—not escape, but this—was what she’d wanted all along. Lifting to her tiptoes, her body slid upward, just two wet layers of clothes separating our skin.

  I groaned.

  What am I doing? Slow down.

  My hands found her waist as hers lifted to my shoulders.

  You need to take it slow. Step back.

  “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, Shel
ly, 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.

  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.”

  “Exactly,” Beau whispered. “The point is to make her laugh, so you should be joking when you say it. The cheesier, the better. She’ll pick up on the intention and she’ll laugh. Got it?”

  Despite myself, I listened, absorbing my brothers’ advice. I mean, they were definitely the experts. As insane as it was, at some point over the last two minutes and without expressly realizing I’d done so, I’d gone from incredulous to irritated to interested.

  Not waiting for me to answer, Jethro placed a hand on my shoulder, but he looked to Beau. “Sorry if this next part is weird for you, Beau.”

  “No. It’s fine.” The redhead waved off Jethro’s concern. “She’s my sister and her happiness matters, I don’t need to contemplate the details.”

  “What?” I looked between them, again certain I was missing something.

  Holding my eyes, Jethro continued, “Here’s the deal, and this is true with most women, ninety-nine percent of the time. If she touches you, like your hand or your arm or your leg—”

  “Especially the leg.” Beau nodded firmly. “If she touches anywhere above the knee and leaves her hand there, that’s like the universal ‘ride below the crupper’ invitation.”

  “Anyway, if she touches you, that means she wants you to touch her, the sooner the better.” Jethro explained with an academic air. “Do what she does. If her touch is light and flirtatious, do that. If her touch is more purposeful, well . . . then, there you go. Proceed as directed. But, the important thing is, if she’s opened that door and you don’t walk in, that’ll leave her feeling like you’re not as into her as she’s into you. In which case, verbal communication, bound
ary setting, and gentle—but firm—honesty are required.”

  “Right. I knew that.” Now I was nodding, my mind working, remembering all the times and all the women who’d wrapped fingers around my bicep and squeezed, or touched my leg under a table, or dragged a hand down my chest. Once upon a time, I’d known what it meant and I’d taken note. Over the years, I still knew what it meant but I’d become indifferent.

  “Okay? We got a plan?” Jethro gave my shoulder one more pat and then dropped his hand, making like he was going to walk over to the picnic.

  “Wait.” I stopped him, the reality of what had just transpired finally catching up with the surprise of it.

  Jethro turned back to me, his eyes questioning. “What? What’s wrong?”

  I inspected him and asked before I thought better of the impulse, “Why’re you doing this?”

  His eyebrows ticked up, like my question confused him.

  I hazarded a glance at Beau and saw my younger brother understood what I was asking. Beau had always been good at reading people, picking up on undercurrents and nuance.

  Returning my searching stare to Jethro, I asked again, “Why’re you doing this? Why’re you trying to help me?”

  Understanding shoved aside confusion in my older brother’s eyes. “There’s nobody in the world who deserves happiness more than you two. I love you, Billy, even though you can be a real asshole sometimes.” Holding my searching stare, the side of his mouth hitched higher. “Come on, dummy. Let’s go get the girl.”

  Upon returning to the picnic, Beau announced, “I think I’d like to go swimming. Who wants to come?”

  And then, almost in unison and as though swimming was a code word for acquiring superpowers, everyone except Scarlet stood and promptly left, leaving behind basically everything.

  Meanwhile, I stood stock-still at the edge of the blanket, doing my utmost not to seem conspicuous as Scarlet stared after my departing family, still chewing the remainder of the strawberry she’d just bitten into when Beau, Jethro, and I had made our second approach.