Grin and Beard It (Winston Brothers #2)

by Penny Reid

  Then I sighed in relief, my hand covering my heart. “That’s not funny, Ashley.”

  Ashley Winston, my only sister. She’d left Green Valley for college some eight years ago, mostly because living with six heathen boys drove her insane. She’d made her home in Chicago after becoming a nurse. Last August she’d returned to Green Valley to help our momma go through hospice care. During Ashley’s six weeks in town, she’d fallen for my boss, Drew Runous.

  She’d returned in March, partially because of Drew and—I flatter myself—partially because of us boys. This time she was staying for good.

  My only sister laughed—outright laughed—at my distress, her big blue eyes dancing, then pulled me into a hug and using her real voice, said, “I really had you going.”

  Ashley and Billy looked like twins, although he was born number two, and she was number four in our family of seven. She used to be a local beauty queen. I might be biased as her brother, but I thought her exterior beauty had nothing on the loveliness of her heart.

  Except tonight.

  Tonight she was being a shrew.

  I clung to her. As far as I was concerned, she was my ticket to safety. I doubted any of my past mistakes would corner me—as they’d done a number of times over the years—if I was with my sister.

  “Jethro?”

  “What?”

  “Are you ever going to let me go?” she asked after the hug had lasted too long.

  “Nope.”

  She squeezed me and rested her head against my shoulder, and I could feel her cheek curve with a smile. “I’ll protect you. You just stay with me, big brother.”

  “I’m going to take you up on that,” I said, releasing her from the hug but lacing our fingers together. “You’re my date tonight.”

  She tossed her thick hair over one shoulder and grinned at me with a stunning smile. “You mean your bodyguard.”

  I shrugged, searching the crowd and avoiding every female gaze. “Same difference.”

  “What’s that?”

  I lifted an eyebrow in question. “What’s what?”

  Truth be told, I was searching for Hank Weller. Now my immediate safety was in check, my first thought was of Sarah.

  Yes. I know. I’m incorrigible.

  I may have sworn off women, causing hurt, and stealing cars, but this Sarah didn’t strike me as women. Something about her had me thinking in clichés of the she’s different variety. Maybe her dimples? Her odd, charming honesty? How easily and naturally she’d switched between endearing and seductive? I wasn’t interested in falling back into old habits, treating a woman as disposable. That wasn’t who I was anymore, or who I wanted to be.

  But the simple truth was, less than one hour after making her acquaintance, finding out more about Sarah was a compulsion, not just curiosity.

  “What’s that face you’re making?” Ashely poked me.

  “That’s my happy-birthday face.”

  “It looks like your, I hope I’m not about to be murdered face.”

  I gave her a flat smile, and she giggled at my discomfort. Spotting Hank by the end of the bar chatting with the sheriff, I kept my eyes on him as I pulled Ashley across the room. We had to stop several times to accept well wishes from the crowd.

  “Where are we going?” Ashley asked when we broke through the thickest portion of the gathered group.

  “I need to talk to Hank. He’s got a guest staying at his place on Bandit Lake, and I want to know who she is,” I admitted, confessing my intentions to my sister. Ashley was a safe repository for my secrets. She wasn’t one to leverage or blackmail, like the rest of my siblings. Or Claire.

  “Okay, fine. But I want a margarita at some point, so after talking to Hank we should place our order.”

  “I’ll buy you a trip to Mexico if you stick by my side for the night.”

  “You make it a trip to Costa Rica and you’ve got a deal.”

  I pulled to a stop directly in front of Hank and the sheriff, prepared to grill my friend about his guest, but stopped short when I heard what the sheriff was saying.

  “. . . it’s not a secret anymore, seeing as how most of the movie folk are arriving this week, and they start filming the week after. So, sure, I don’t mind if you tell people if they ask. I’ve already talked to Kip about the motel. He’s known for months since that’s where the crew will be staying—you know, the camera guys and the like.”

  Hank nodded thoughtfully until his drifting gaze caught sight of Ashley standing at my side. Then his face split with a sly grin. “Hey, Ashley. I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”

  He made like he was going to hug her, so I stepped forward and intercepted the embrace. “Well, thanks for the hug, Hank. I missed you, too.”

  Hank Weller may have been my business partner and my younger brother Beau’s best friend, but that didn’t mean I wanted his paws on my sister.

  He pushed me off, scowling, knowing I was interfering with his attempt to cop a feel. Really, I was doing him a favor. I was just one of her six overprotective brothers, and probably the nicest. Her man was Drew Runous. And Drew was six foot five of scary federal game warden.

  “Hank. It’s been a long time,” Ashley drawled and offered her right hand for a benign handshake, issuing him a single eyebrow lift of distrust.

  He gave her a wounded look—which impressed her not at all—and she pointed her question to the sheriff. “Evening, Sheriff. What are y’all talking about?”

  Sheriff James scratched his chin, openly inspecting us. “Well I suppose there’s no harm in telling, since everybody is going to know soon enough. Some Hollywood types are filming a movie out at Cades Cove and the surrounding areas, permission came down through federal channels. I imagine Drew knows all about it, has for months, I suspect.”

  Ashley’s eyes widened with bewilderment. “He’s said nothing to me about it.”

  “The man is good at keeping secrets,” Hank said darkly.

  I scowled at my business partner, then turned to Ash. “You know how Drew is, he probably forgot about it. That or he thought Hollywood people using the park wasn’t important enough to mention.”

  My sister’s smile was soft and warm and her gaze grew introspective. She was obviously thinking of Drew and his peculiar manner. “You’re probably right. He’ll spend an hour describing new bear cubs he spotted on the prairie, but he’d likely pay no mind to the making of a movie in his backyard.”

  “How fascinating,” Hank deadpanned, frowning.

  Although I considered Drew a good friend, I couldn’t be too irritated with Hank. Half the men in Green Valley were in love with my sister. Just like half the women were in love with my brother Billy. Hank’s envy was amusing as hell.

  “The whole thing will be over in three months, or so they told my office. They’ll be holding auditions for extras next Friday,” the sheriff remarked offhandedly, as though the entire situation was perplexing, and he was trying to sort through it.

  “Anybody famous in it? Anyone we would know?” Ashley asked the question most people would likely ask sooner or later.

  “Not anyone I know.” The sheriff shrugged. “But then I don’t watch many movies these days. They’re not what they used to be.”

  “Tom Low is in it.” Hank stared past me unseeingly as he recalled several more names. “Jon Will, Ken Hess, Janice Kenner, and Sienna Diaz are all I can recall.”

  “Whoa.” Ashley’s eyes grew round and her mouth fell open. “Sienna Diaz? And Tom Low? Holy moly pudding pie.”

  Hank gave Ashley a small grin. “Holy moly pudding pie?”

  “Kiss the wind and make it cry,” Ash continued her odd rhyme, still too stunned to speak anything but nonsense.

  “Should we know who these people are?” I asked, glancing between my sister, Sheriff James, and Hank. The sheriff was no help.

  “Sienna Diaz just won an Oscar this year, first Latina to win Best Actress ever, and only the fourth to be nominated. And she won for a comedic rol
e, which is unheard of. Her last few movies were huge hits.”

  “Then who is Tom Low?” I asked, none of this ringing any bells.

  “He’s Sienna’s ex-boyfriend, and his career has kinda been suffering since they split.”

  I squinted at Ash. “How do you know this stuff?”

  She shrugged and wrinkled her nose at me like I was the weird one. “Everybody knows this stuff, except for national park rangers who don’t watch TV.”

  “She’s right.” Hank nodded. “I know this stuff.”

  “Well, I don’t know this stuff.” The sheriff shot me a commiserating glance. “Regardless, these people will be descending upon us next week. I need to go find Daisy and give her a heads-up, likely they’ll be wanting some of her doughnuts and pie.”

  I pointed to where Daisy Payton was standing at the far end of the bar. “She’s over there, said she was getting a drink.”

  “Thanks, son.” Being a man of few words and fewer sentiments, Sheriff James gave Ashley and me a tight smile, then moved to intercept Daisy.

  I watched him go and inadvertently made eye contact with a female. Hastily, I yanked my eyes to Ashley and turned us so my back was to the woman.

  “Oh good grief, Jethro.” Ashley’s sigh was both amused and exasperated. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? Cletus didn’t invite any of your old lady friends to this shindig.”

  I glared at my sister, mouth agape. “Are you serious?”

  Hank tried to hide his laughter behind his hand. “You’re so gullible, Jethro. Cletus told me all about how he was going to make you think he’d invited the Tanner twins. He was just messing with you. They ain’t here.”

  Ashley reached forward and pinched my cheek. “My big brother, scared to death of women.”

  “Not all women,” I clarified. “Just those I’ve scorned.”

  “Have you been scorning women recently?” Hank asked, clearly finding my discomfort hilarious.

  “No. I’ve done no scorning in the last five years.”

  “That you know of,” Ash added with a laugh.

  I frowned at my sister and my friend, irritation swelling in my chest. “Y’all make me sound like a scoundrel. I am not.”

  “You were.” Hank shrugged. “But, you’re right. You aren’t anymore, not on purpose anyway.”

  Before I could protest his last comment, Ash said gently, “You can’t help it, being as cute as you are.”

  “I’m not cute. I’m just friendly. Nothing wrong with being friendly.”

  “You’re a huge flirt, is what you are,” Hank said dryly before taking a sip of his beer. “You and Beau inherited the gene from your daddy. There’s no competing when either of you are around.”

  Being told I had anything in common with my father used to fill me with pride. Now it left me hollow. I had a feeling Hank was speaking from some recent personal experience with Beau, because Beau definitely wasn’t celibate.

  I decided to change the subject rather than rub salt in the wound. I still wanted to know about this Sarah.

  “So Hank, I came upon your houseguest on the high Moth Run overlook earlier today.”

  His eyes widened then narrowed. “My houseguest?”

  “Yeah, Sarah.”

  “Sarah . . .” His tone was noncommittal.

  “Said she was staying at your place on the lake, said you two went to college together.”

  I saw he understood who I meant, though his gaze was still cagey. “You just . . . came across her?”

  “That’s right. She was lost, so I drove her up the mountain to your place.”

  “Hmm.” He took another drink of his beer, peering at me.

  I wanted to ask him who the lady was, but the way he was staring made me think the more interested I sounded, the less likely he’d be to share.

  “Anyway, uh, I just wanted to let you know I showed her the way to the house. I called Duane on my way over here to have her rental taken to Bandit Lake.”

  Infuriatingly, “Thanks,” was all he said, confirming my suspicion that he wasn’t inclined to expand on the subject.

  This realization left me frustrated, though I covered it with an easy smile and said, “No problem.” Turning to Ash, I offered her my elbow; I wasn’t going to get any information out of Hank. “Do you still want that margarita, Ash?”

  She slipped her fingers onto my arm and nodded. “Sure do.”

  With measured politeness, I led my sister away from Hank and toward the bar, greeting those we met with thanks and my very best show of affability. But my thoughts were in mild disorder. This Sarah had seemed interested, at least I’d thought so. But then, I was so rusty these days, maybe I’d been mistaken. Maybe it was just flirting. Maybe I was misreading natural charm as interest. Clearly it was time for me to get back in the game.

  Regardless, if Sarah did belong to Hank then . . . well, maybe that was for the best.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I have lost friends, some by death . . . others by sheer inability to cross the street.”

  ― Virginia Woolf

  ~Sienna~

  Coming to grips with my inability to order Chinese takeout was a momentously horrendous moment. It would go down in infamy as one of my “First World Problems Hall of Fame” moments, along with that one time I couldn’t find a nail polish color I liked at the manicurist’s, and that other time the Starbucks drive-thru was unexpectedly closed.

  The horror! I WOULD NEVER RECOVER.

  . . . just kidding. It was fine.

  Hank had packed the fridge, pantry, and spice cabinet—very nice of him—so I decided to make tacos instead. I made a mental note to have him provide me the receipt for the groceries so I could reimburse him when I made the monthly rental payment.

  I was frying up the ground beef when the landline rang. I picked it up immediately, hoping it was Marta. I’d called her earlier. She hadn’t picked up, likely because she hadn’t recognized the phone number. I’d left a message explaining my lack of cell reception, but left out the part about me being lost. No need to freak her out unnecessarily.

  “Hello?”

  “Sienna?”

  “Yes.” I was relieved; thus, I shouted my answer. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “Oh my God, Sienna. We have been worried sick. What were you thinking, leaving the guys at the airport like that? And renting your own car? Using your own name? You could have been kidnapped.”

  For being the most business-minded of my siblings, Marta was dramatic. My brother Pedro, an interpretive dance performance artist and insurance actuary in New York, was the only one more dramatic than Marta.

  She would’ve made a great actress but had eschewed any desire to do so when my first movie hit it big. As it was, she claimed she loved running my life. She was my manager, and usually I adored her for it. But increasingly over the last year, things between us had grown tense.

  I kept telling her I needed a break. She kept telling me to wait until after the next movie. She’d been saying that for the last three movies.

  “Marta, for heaven’s sake, I’m twenty-five. It’s only been five hours since I touched down in Tennessee. I do know how to drive.” I just can’t read a map to save my life. “And what do you mean ‘we’ have been worried sick?”

  “When I couldn’t reach you on your cell phone, I called Mom and Dad.”

  “Oh, no.”

  I love my mother, but she’d been one of those parents who used to make us watch America’s Most Wanted on Sunday nights. When it went off the air, she made us watch taped re-runs on an old VCR. Without fail, at the end of each episode, she’d say, “And that’s why you never talk to strangers, because they will murder you.”

  “Please don’t tell me Mom called the police.”

  “She didn’t call the police.”

  “Thank God.”

  “She called the FBI.”

  I moaned, closing my eyes.

  “The FBI told her she needed to wait twenty-four hours b
efore filing a report. So Mom called Jenny.” Jenny being my agent.

  “What? Why?” My agent was great, really great. But like any great agent, she was also an opportunist. If I were kidnapped, I’m sure she’d be both sad and thrilled. Sad for obvious reasons. Thrilled because of all the free publicity.

  “I just got off the phone with Jenny.” I heard Marta shuffle some papers in the background. “In fact, let me text her. She was just about to inform the studio and local police.”

  I sighed, my head falling to my hand. “I called you as soon as I arrived. Did you not get my message?”

  “But you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

  “My cell doesn’t get reception up here.”

  “That’s unacceptable. I need to be able to reach you. I have, like, ten scripts for you to look at. You haven’t checked your email in hours. Jenny needs to know whether you’re going to the London premiere for Kate’s new film and who you’re bringing. Travel hasn’t been booked because you need to tell me the dates. You haven’t given me the okay yet on the social media posts for June. Esquire sent over the final pictures and editorial for your approval. Creative wants your input on the campaign for—”

  “Marta, stop. Just. Stop.” I could feel my blood pressure rising the longer she spoke. “None of those things are critical or constitute an emergency. I told you this was going to be a writer’s retreat. I told you I need a break.”

  She sputtered for a few moments and then finally admitted, “I didn’t think you were serious.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “You’re always saying you need a break, but you never actually take one.”

  The meat sizzled angrily, so I turned off the gas range. “I meant it the last sixty times I said it, so I’m taking one now.”

  “Sienna, darling.” Marta hesitated, as though she were at a loss. “Baby, listen. You know I want what’s best for you. You know I love you.”

  “Yes. Of course.” And I did. Marta was my older sister by fifteen years. She’d struggled as an actress, waiting tables, waiting for her big break. Just before I sold my first script, she’d landed a regular spot on a network TV show, and she’d given it up to manage my career.