Grin and Beard It (Winston Brothers #2)

by Penny Reid

  Cletus never asked for help, so it took me a sec to recover. “Sure thing. What can I do?”

  “They called me down to the set; they can’t get the Colt combine harvester to start, and they need it working for a scene they’re filming tonight. I need you to come help me with it.”

  I hesitated, both because his request was an odd one—seeing as the twins were co-owners with Cletus in the Winston Brothers Auto Shop and much more mechanically inclined than I—and because going to the set meant I might see Sienna.

  “I don’t mind, Cletus. But why don’t you ask Beau or Duane?”

  “Duane and Jess are off smooching in the woods, and I can’t take Beau to the set for obvious reasons.”

  I pondered that statement and decided he was right. However, being around Sienna without being free to talk to her had me debating whether or not to make an excuse. Sienna Diaz was quickly becoming more fantasy than reality, so keeping my distance, forgetting about her was the smart thing to do.

  And yet . . .

  “Come on, Jet. If Sienna is there, I’ll hide you under a tarp.”

  This statement irked, because Cletus had basically read my mind. He was entirely too good at goading people into getting his way. Even so, I finally agreed, “Fine. Fine. Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “No. Finish up with Claire, and meet me there later. Since I have your binding promise, you should know I’m going to need you helping me on set this whole week. I already spoke to Drew about it. He says you should have time, seeing as how the bears are mostly staying out of the cove now.”

  “Gee, thanks, Cletus.” I wasn’t surprised he knew I was at Claire’s since she and I had a standing dinner scheduled every Sunday.

  For whatever reason, forcing me to see Sienna all week was obviously in Cletus’s plan. He liked to torture his brothers, me in particular. But as duplicitous as Cletus was, I was just as talented at being invisible. Hiding wouldn’t be necessary. I’d make myself known if or when it suited my purpose.

  “You’re welcome. Like I said, if Sienna’s about, I’ll throw a tarp over you and pretend you’re one of the busted-out tractors, just the man-sized, scaredy-cat variety. Oh, and ask Claire if she can pack me up some dinner before you leave.”

  My gaze flickered to Claire. “I’m not asking her that.”

  “Cletus wants some dinner?” Claire guessed, already turning back to the house. “Tell him it’s fine.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” I said, only half joking.

  Cletus chided from the other end, “Come now, Jethro. You should know by now, I’ve never required encouragement.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.”

  ― Carl Sagan, Contact

  ~Jethro~

  Tuesday was the first time I saw Sienna since our date.

  She didn’t see me because she was on set, doing her thing.

  Cletus and I were nearby. He had me holding his hand while he fixed the Colt¸ not that he actually needed me there. I knew my brother well enough to recognize he liked having someone present to hand him the tools in a dramatic fashion.

  “Socket wrench.” He held out his palm, not looking at me.

  I gave him the wrench, and he passed me the wire cutters. I shifted my weight while he fiddled around for a stretch. The contraption he was working on was a real antique. Red rust dotted the yellow paint. As far as I could tell, this bucket of metal machinery was two hammer hits away from collapsing into a pile of garbage.

  “Flathead.” Again, not looking at me, Cletus held out his hand.

  I gave him the flathead screwdriver, and he passed me the socket wrench.

  “Switch out the socket, would you? I need it a quarter larger.”

  “Sure thing,” I mumbled, thankful to have something to do other than hand off tools within his easy reach. If I thought I could get away with it, I would’ve been listening to one of my favorite podcasts, either Curious Handmade or The Renaissance Woodworker. But Cletus had the tendency to take offense and make trouble if he wasn’t given undivided attention.

  Leaving him to his hunk of junk, I walked around the harvester and some yards away to his big toolbox. Once there, I picked through the socket heads ’til I found the right size.

  “Hey, Jethro. Are you here with Cletus?”

  I glanced up at the question. One of Sienna’s bodyguards, the one I’d punched in the face, approached from the direction of the active film set. I’d caught sight of the staffers setting things up earlier in the day. Beyond the bodyguard I saw a flurry of activity. Now it looked like they were almost ready to start filming.

  “Hey, Dave? Right?” I straightened from the toolbox and held out my hand for him to shake, though my eyes kept looking beyond him to the set. Without wanting to, I was looking for her.

  He gave me a quick handshake as I divided my attention between his nose, which wasn’t in good shape, and the movie people behind him.

  “Yes. Dave’s the name.”

  “Hey, sorry about your . . . sorry about the . . .” I motioned to my nose.

  “Occupational hazard. Like I said, I’ve had worse. So, um, are you here with Cletus?”

  I nodded warily. “How do you know Cletus?”

  “He came around last Friday and introduced himself to people.”

  “Did he?” That was odd. Typically, Cletus avoided people.

  “Yes, sir. He said you were looking for people to help with the bears?”

  “Really.” I crossed my arms, wondering why Cletus would say such a thing.

  Dave tilted his head back and forth as though reconsidering his words. “Actually, it was more like Cletus mentioned you’re moving the bears out of the prairie so we can film, and I asked if you needed any help.”

  I scratched my jaw and considered this Dave. It was obvious he wanted to get up close and personal with a black bear and saw me as his front-row ticket.

  “I could always use an extra set of hands, but it’s my job to protect these animals.”

  He nodded quickly. “Of course, of course.”

  “Just so we’re clear, it wouldn’t be any help having someone along who’s going to antagonize a bear. Spelling it out, you’d have to be respectful and compassionate with the creatures.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That means no flash photography, no poking at it, throwing things at it, no—”

  “I get it. I wouldn’t do that kind of thing. I just . . .” Dave’s eyes, still puffy and bruised, widened as he chose his words. “I’d just love to see one, while we’re here.”

  “Fine.” I nodded once, extending my hand for him to shake. He took it, a big smile on his face. My attention snagged on the activity going on behind him. Specifically, the tall, gorgeous woman walking toward the set, dressed in a garment befitting a Quaker.

  My breath seized in my lungs as Sienna tossed her chestnut hair over one shoulder, giving her companion a wide, sunny smile. She made the other woman laugh. Then she laughed. The melodic sound traveled to where I stood, as I stared at her like a fool.

  “Oh, yeah. She’s filming today.” Dave followed my line of sight, turning and standing next to me. “Have you seen her act yet? On set? She’s brilliant. The camera doesn’t do her justice.”

  I tore my gaze from Sienna, my chest and throat burning with something unpleasant, and eyed the big man next to me. He spoke of her like he was proud. I was glad. She deserved to be surrounded by good people.

  I turned to leave, figuring Cletus would be near a fit if I didn’t return by the time he was finished with his screwdriver, but Dave stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Here, wait. Just watch. They’re about to call action.”

  Not intending to, I waited, I watched, entranced.

  The wind tossed her hair to one side and she laughed again. Someone was called to bring it under control. And then action wa
s called and everyone grew real still.

  She spoke first. I couldn’t hear her and that was frustrating. I loved her voice. Unlike actors on a stage, these folks were speaking softly. Of course, a giant microphone hung over their heads to catch all their words. Regardless, I could see well enough and what I saw was mesmerizing. She’d transformed, was an entirely different person, like she’d slipped on the skin of someone else.

  I didn’t know what the scene was about, but it looked like some ladies were trying to teach Sienna’s character how to churn butter. Her movements were all wrong, making the usually benign up-down movement appear extremely, albeit accidentally, sexual. In fact, her movements were so ridiculously wrong—graphic in an awkward, accidental, unattractive way—they were hilarious. She was hilarious.

  She looked like a damn fool. A clown. A genius.

  I glanced at two production staffers and saw they’d both turned away from the set, hands over their mouths, shoulders shaking. A quick scan revealed they weren’t the only ones struggling not to laugh.

  Someone called cut and a chorus of laughter broke out, but Sienna didn’t stop. She danced around the butter churner like it was a pole and she was the world’s worst, and most oblivious, stripper. I couldn’t help but laugh, unable to tear my eyes away.

  “See? She’s unreal,” Dave said with a smile in his voice. After a tick, I felt his eyes on me, but I wasn’t ready to look away. The show she was putting on held all my attention. Despite a lingering bitterness of what might have been between us, I truly did wish her well. She deserved every good thing.

  Dave eventually cleared his throat, drawing my ears—if not my eyes—to him. “It’s really interesting to me, that someone who is so talented, so gifted at acting doesn’t really like it all that much.”

  That got my attention.

  I frowned at Dave and his comment. “Sienna doesn’t like acting?”

  “Yes. Well, no. I think she likes acting. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like being a celebrity.”

  I thought on that, then asked, “Why does she do it? If she doesn’t like it?”

  “At first, from what I can gather, it was an accident. She thought she was selling a script. Her agent and her sister talked her into starring in the movie. It wasn’t supposed to blow up like it did. And then she kept making movies. No one expected her to be as successful as she is. But there’s just something about her, you know?”

  “Yeah. I know.” My eyes sought her out again. She’d ceased her pole dancing and was now talking to Tabitha, the film’s director. Her expression was patient and interested. My attention dropped to her lips. She was biting the bottom one.

  “Did you know she doesn’t live in her own house? When she’s in L.A., she stays with her parents.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked distractedly, biting my lip as I recalled what kissing her was like. It had been just the once, but I remembered every detail. Sweetness and sunshine.

  “Her house, the one she owns, has been broken into several times.”

  A shock of concern traveled down my spine and I demanded, “What? Was she at home?”

  “No. She wasn’t at home. Even though she hasn’t said anything, I can tell she doesn’t feel safe there. Even with a full security team living with her.”

  “Y’all always live with her? Even when she’s at home?”

  He nodded. “She was trying to use this time in Tennessee to get a break. I know she’d like some privacy—even from us, and I get that—but her sister talked her into having us stay at the cabin. We try to stay out of her way, but she never complains.” He scratched the back of his neck. “The truth is, I feel sorry for her.”

  “You feel sorry for Sienna?” I eyed him warily, getting the sense he was leading me down a brick road of his own design. Obviously this guy had an agenda, why else would he be sharing details about her personal life so freely?

  “I do. She’s a good person, and people are always trying to use her for their own ends. She doesn’t really have an advocate, anyone she can trust.”

  “What about her sister?” I asked before I could catch the question. It wasn’t really any of my business.

  She’s not your business.

  Dave shrugged. “Marta has Sienna’s career interests in mind, so does her agent. They tag team her, push her, but they’re good for her career. But at what cost, right? A person has to have more in their life than work, right?”

  I nodded slowly, unable to keep myself from saying, “Maybe she doesn’t see it that way. Maybe work is what she cares about right now.”

  “No.” Dave snorted. “No, not Sienna. What Sienna wants is an advocate, a partner. She needs someone who cares about her health and happiness. Not just the health of her career.”

  I said nothing, gritting my teeth, letting his words hang in the air. I had nothing to add because it wasn’t any of my business.

  She’s not your business.

  Even if I wished things were different. Even if I wanted her to be my business.

  She’s not your business.

  As my momma used to say, no use buying a saddle for a horse that doesn’t want a cowboy.

  ***

  Beau and Hank often had Mondays off. For them, that meant fishing in the morning and playing video games all day. I tried to join them the first week of every month at Sky Lake, and they’d oblige me by cutting the excursion short so I could still make it to work on time.

  Though it was currently the first week of the month, I almost didn’t go.

  Sienna was on my mind.

  Now, Sienna being on my mind wasn’t unusual. But it was supposed to be unusually cold later this week and I knew—because Dave had told me yesterday—that Sienna didn’t have many extra blankets in her trailer.

  Since my impromptu interaction with Dave over a week ago, he’d been seeking me out, telling me all kinds of things about Sienna. She liked to read The New Yorker, but he couldn’t get it delivered to the set, and it kept getting lost in transit to Hank’s cabin. So I ordered two months of back issues, plus arranged to have new issues delivered to my house.

  I gave Dave the magazine with my address cut out, reminding him there was no reason she needed to know where they came from.

  Last Friday he told me she’d been craving Chinese food, but they couldn’t find a decent restaurant and none outside of Knoxville. So I asked my friend and co-worker—he and his wife were from China—if they would mind preparing a meal. Dave and I put the food in takeaway containers to disguise the fact it was homemade. Again I reminded him there was no reason for her to know where the food had come from.

  I also arranged for Daisy’s coffee to be delivered to Sienna in the mornings. She liked it better than her own coffee beans, or so Dave had told me.

  Yesterday Dave told me his security guys had scoured Hank’s cabin and found only the blankets on the beds, and Sienna didn’t want them to go to the trouble of bringing those back and forth to the set. He also told me the production staff had brought them blankets, but they were polyester, scratchy, and gave Tim hives. So Dave asked if he thought it would be worthwhile to send Tim to Knoxville to buy blankets or if I had any at my house.

  Hence, my mind was on Sienna. I needed to get back home, round up our extra blankets, and bring them to the set sometime this week before the cold snap.

  “You’ve been real quiet, Jet.”

  I glanced at Hank from my spot in the back seat, then moved my attention back to the window beside me. “I guess I don’t have a lot to say.”

  “Seen Claire lately?” Beau asked, turning around to look at me. He was sitting in the front.

  “Yep. Every Sunday. But you already knew that.”

  “Is she going to sing in Cletus’s band?”

  “I don’t know.” I was making a list, all the things I needed to do as soon as I got home. Cletus would be fit to be tied if I made him late.

  “So . . .” Hank started, cleared his throat, then started again, “Have you seen Sienna la
tely?”

  I met his eyes in the rearview mirror, keeping my expression blank. “No.”

  Beau and Hank traded a glance. I looked out the window again.

  “I’ve been calling her, but she seems real busy,” Hank pressed. Even though we’d left Sky Lake, I guessed he wasn’t finished fishing.

  “Maybe she is.” I shrugged.

  I knew she was busy. Because Dave told me she was busy, writing all the time, not sleeping much. He seemed to think I deserved a daily rundown of her activities. I didn’t need or deserve a daily rundown. She still wasn’t my business. Nevertheless, I was concerned she wasn’t sleeping enough.

  I added a canister of my momma’s special sleep-tea blend to the list of items I needed to bring to the set.

  Hank sighed like he was frustrated as he pulled into our driveway. As soon as he parked, but before he cut the engine, I bolted out my door and jogged toward the house. I had exactly twenty minutes before Cletus would be downstairs, hollering at me that it was time to go.

  A quick shower and ten minutes later, I stood in the upstairs linen closet, grabbing as many spare blankets as I could hold. I kicked the closet door shut and made for the stairs. Over the bundle of quilts, I spotted Cletus standing by the entryway table, turning an envelope over in his hands and peering at the return address.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He jumped, his hands and the envelope going behind his back. “Hey yourself,” he grumped. I’d obviously startled him.

  “Help me with these. And what are you hiding behind your back?” I asked upon arriving at the main floor.

  “I’m not hiding anything.” His tone was defensive, and yet he continued hiding the envelope.

  “Yes, you are. What’s that letter behind your back?”

  Cletus ground his teeth, the muscle at his jaw ticking. He was thinking. Deliberating. I lifted a concerned eyebrow. No one, least of all me, wanted Cletus to be deliberating.

  Abruptly, he thrust the envelope at me. “Fine. You got a letter. Give me those stupid blankets. I’ll carry them out to the truck.”

  We swapped burdens and Cletus stomped out the front door, mumbling to himself as he went. Meanwhile, I turned the envelope over to check the return address, much like he’d been doing when I spotted him seconds ago.