Grin and Beard It (Winston Brothers #2)

by Penny Reid

  He’d been snoring like a fiend earlier, so I sneak-attacked him and put some Vicks VapoRub around his nose.

  I know I shouldn’t put medicine on people without their consent, but he wouldn’t listen to me. And he was keeping me up. My mother used Vicks for everything growing up—colds, flus, allergies, coughs—even bruises and sore joints. Prescribing for her patients always included a small screw-top container of Vicks.

  VapoRub applied, Dave slept much better. I didn’t want to wake him now. So I decided to grab Henry and talk him into a doughnut/coffee run. I still hadn’t eaten a Daisy doughnut, hung up as I was on the idea of eating my first with Jethro. Perhaps it was time to take the plunge and move on.

  I would also ask him to grab some blankets from Hank’s house on his way back.

  Opening the door to the trailer, I peeked around it, finding Henry bundled and sitting on a folding chair. He was awake and had a hot cup of coffee in his hands.

  I frowned at him because he was also eating a doughnut. It was a Daisy doughnut.

  “Hey, Handsome Henry.”

  He turned just his head toward me and lifted his chin, a happy smile on his face. “Hey, gorgeous.”

  “Where’d you get the coffee?”

  “Your guy brought it.”

  “My guy?”

  “Yeah. The park ranger guy.”

  My heart did a sad, deflating thing in my chest. I ignored it. Stupid heart.

  “You mean Jethro?” His name felt weird to say, like it was covered in sand . . . and tears.

  “Yeah. That’s the guy. Him and his brother.”

  “Cletus?”

  “Yeah. That’s the other guy. I like those guys.”

  “Oh.” I stood in limbo outside my trailer. I couldn’t ask Henry to go on a coffee run, not when he already had coffee and had spent most the night awake on duty. That wasn’t nice.

  Nor did I want to wake up Dave. It was Tim’s day off, so Dave had been on duty the other half of the night.

  So I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced around the temporary structures, half-hoping, half-dreading I’d catch a glimpse of Jethro.

  “What, uh, what were they doing here? Jethro and Cletus?”

  “They were here last night, saw how late everyone was up, so they brought coffee this morning.”

  I stood straighter, a shock of surprise running down my spine. “What? They were here? What?”

  “Yeah. Cletus does the work on the tractors. He’s here every day. You haven’t noticed him?”

  “No.” I shook my head, feeling oddly foolish. I stepped down from the trailer and closed the door behind me. Wanting to poke at the wound further, I asked, “What about Jethro? Is he here every day?”

  “Not every day. Unless he’s helping Cletus or meeting with Tabitha.”

  “He meets with Tabitha?”

  “Every Monday and Wednesday.”

  I thought for a second. “Today is Friday.”

  “He was here last night helping Cletus. Tabitha asked them to stay. But, even when he’s not on the set, he’s in the Cove. He takes care of the bears.”

  “The bears?” My voice squeaked.

  “Yeah. He traps them then takes them someplace else so they don’t interfere with production. Dave and I went with him earlier this week on our day off, helped him move a giant male black bear. The thing was huge, and angry.” Henry stared forward as he remembered, adoration or reverence clouding his gaze. “But Jethro knew just what to do. He was so calm. He wasn’t at all scared. I think even Dave was scared.”

  Henry chuckled at that then sipped more of his coffee, completely oblivious to my stunned gawking.

  “He traps black bears?” I repeated, louder this time, my voice still squeaking.

  “Yep. And other animals, too.” These words, arriving from someplace behind me, made my spine stiffen and my palms sweaty.

  Gulping air, I looked over my shoulder, finding Jethro and Cletus standing some feet away. Cletus had his arms wrapped around several blankets and Jethro held two containers of what I assumed was coffee in his grip. One was a Styrofoam cup, the other was my Hello Kitty travel mug.

  I hadn’t seen or talked to Jethro in over two weeks, thus I decided to forgive myself for devouring him with my eyes. He stood as though relaxed, all weight on his left foot, his narrow hips slightly cocked to one side. He wore his ranger uniform of cargo pants, blue button-down shirt, boots, but no tool belt or hat.

  Without his tool belt and hat, he looked oddly unadorned. The simplicity suited him. But so did his belt and hat.

  When I lifted my eyes, his green and gold gaze locked with mine. Though his friendly grin was in place, something about it had altered. It struck me as less friendly and more predatory. I liked it, because I imagined I was looking at him in much the same way.

  “Sienna,” he said, giving me a single nod.

  “Hi.” I breathed the word, the air between us growing electric. Perhaps the feeling was entirely one-sided, but I didn’t think so. The crackling tension felt good, exciting, but also unwieldy.

  “Sienna Diaz, that was mighty fine acting last night.” Cletus strolled over and passed me his bundle of blankets. “These are for you. Jethro thought you might be cold.”

  “We thought you might be cold,” Jethro clarified.

  “He’s been thinking on ways he might warm you up.”

  Jethro ignored Cletus. “We were planning on leaving these with Henry,” Jethro said, like he felt the need to explain or apologize for his sudden appearance. “Didn’t want to wake you up or get in your hair.”

  “Well now, I thought you wanted to get in her hair. Or at least you did two weeks ago.” Cletus smiled widely at me, then Jethro. His comment made Henry laugh, my face burn scarlet, and Jethro frown.

  I saw Jethro slice his eyes toward his brother and administer a murderous look. “We’ll just be going,” he said, his voice hard. Then to me, much softer, “Where would you like your coffee?”

  “Inside,” I responded automatically.

  His mouth hitched on one side, his wonderful gaze flickering over me again. “I’ll leave it on the table next to Henry,” he said, but didn’t approach.

  I frowned at him, at his reluctance to come any closer. A hot, uncomfortable lump formed in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Neither of us moved.

  But then Cletus placed his hands on Jethro’s shoulders and gave him a push. “You heard the lady. She’s got her hands full with blankets, least you can do is carry her coffee inside the trailer.” Then to me, he offered, “Let me get that door for you.”

  Cletus jogged over, opened the trailer door, and similarly to how he’d manhandled his brother, he pushed me inside. Jethro, juggling the two cups of coffee, was pushed in next. And then the door was closed.

  And then we were alone.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Lost Time is never found again.”

  ― Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanac

  ~Sienna~

  I don’t know who was more unprepared for alone time in close quarters, Jethro or me.

  We stared at each other, which was all we seemed to be capable of doing¸ for several long seconds. And then we both recovered at the same time, speaking over the other.

  “How have you been?” I asked.

  “Your scenes last night were great,” he said.

  We both started, paused, waited for the other to speak. And then we did it again.

  “I’ve been just fine,” he said.

  “Did you see them?” I asked.

  And then we both laughed. Well, I laughed. He smiled, a big generous grin, his eyes trailing over me.

  “That’s going in a movie.” I set the blankets down on the table by the door, then took my coffee cup from him, carefully placing my hands just where Jethro’s had been. “The awkward staring, the overly polite yet stunted and inane conversation, both of us speaking at once. You’ll see that in a movie.”

  “I wasn’t awkward.” He di
smissed the label with a teasing tilt to his lips. “You were awkward.”

  I sipped my coffee and gave him a very dramatic frown. “It’s awkward to call someone awkward. You were just awkward.”

  “But before that, I was smooth.”

  “Oh, yes.” I agreed with my words but shook my head, my eyes communicating my disagreement. “Very smooth. You were the very picture of smooth. Like an ass.”

  “An ass? Really?”

  “You didn’t let me finish. Smooth like a baby’s ass.”

  Now he did laugh. “Very smooth, Sienna. Not at all awkward. And for the record I’ve never heard anyone call a baby’s backside an ass.”

  We were bantering, teasing, so of course I didn’t think about my words before I said, “Well then, obviously you need to spend more time with me.”

  And then, just like that, it was awkward again. Yet not like before. This awkward was less friendly and innocently disoriented. It was a frustrated awkward, a reproachful awkward, and I could see Jethro was just as irritated as I was.

  And then we did it again, but this time we were joined by a third voice.

  “Jethro—” I started.

  “Look—” he ground out.

  “Sienna, did you put that Vicks shit on my face?” Dave asked, startling us. We both turned our attention to the big, sleepy bodyguard as he stumbled out of the bunk room.

  I placed a hand on my hip, annoyed by the complaint in my guard’s tone and his interruption. Or maybe I was annoyed with Jethro.

  Whatever.

  Regardless, I regretted nothing. “Yes, Dave. You were snoring and waking me up. And you wouldn’t listen to reason. My mother always—”

  “Yes, yes, I know. She’s a doctor, and she uses it for everything. I heard it all before.”

  “You’re just lucky I didn’t put it on your feet.” I gave him a challenging eyebrow lift, daring him to tell me that the Vicks hadn’t helped.

  He grumbled something inaudible, then to Jethro—as though he weren’t at all surprised to find him inside the trailer—he asked, “Are you around today, Jethro? I should be able to get a few hours off to help with the traps, if you need the help. We all slept here last night instead of going back to the cabin. By the way,” Dave turned his thoughtful frown on me, “what time is it? I can’t find my phone. And will Susie be here soon? What time does filming start? I had the schedule on my phone, but I can’t find it anywhere . . .”

  Dave’s voice faded as he slouched through the door of the back area, leaving us alone again. Of course there was the threat of his reemergence at any moment.

  I turned my attention back to Jethro. He was scowling. Again, clearly frustrated. I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off.

  “I should be going,” he grumped, tearing his eyes away. “I have . . . things to do.”

  I stopped him with a hand on his forearm, not sure what I was going to say, but pretty certain I was about to make a fool of myself. Especially since my heart took off like racehorse as soon as I touched him.

  Oh well, so be it.

  Because, you know what? Making a fool of myself was my job. I was literally a professional at it.

  “Wait, wait.” I gripped his arm tighter even though he made no further move to withdraw. Instead, he glared at my hand. “Wait a minute. I need to talk to you.”

  “What about?” His voice was rough and he refused to meet my gaze. I didn’t recognize this version of Jethro, and it had me feeling off-kilter, nervous.

  And when I’m nervous . . .

  “About the impossible anatomy of Godzilla, of course.”

  Then he did lift his eyes, and his left eyebrow. “Pardon?”

  I bit back another joke, forced myself to be serious. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk to you about Godzilla’s improbable femurs or Mothra’s nipples.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Jethro gave me a small smile, likely in spite of himself.

  “I miss you,” I blurted, then shrugged. But I couldn’t hold his gaze after that, so I focused on some random spot over his shoulder. “I like you. You’re fun. I don’t get to have much fun. And, surprisingly, not many people—in this world—are fun. But you’re fun. And,” doubling down, I took a deep breath and added recklessly, “I’m lonely, and I want you to drive with me in the mornings and evenings, but I’d settle for one or the other if you don’t want to do both.”

  I didn’t mention that I hadn’t been lonely until I met him. Somehow that felt like walking out too far on the ledge of vulnerability. I didn’t mind being a fool, but there was no reason for me to be an idiot fool.

  He didn’t say anything, not immediately. So I mentally pulled up my big-girl panties and loosened my grip on his arm, preparing to let him go. But then he stepped forward and surprised me by cupping my cheek with his big palm, pushing his long fingers into my hair, and drawing my eyes back to his. His hands were warm and everywhere he touched tingled with frenzied responsiveness. I wanted more.

  His gaze was on my mouth and he gazed upon it in every sense of the word. It was a true gazing upon, not a looking upon or a staring upon. Gazing upon implies longing, and his longing was as tangible and hot as the coffee mug still in my hand.

  I held my breath, gazing upon him as well.

  I know, I know, I’m crazy. But my first thought was Is he going to propose?

  Crazy.

  Jethro bent his head, brushing his lips softly against mine. I instinctively chased each retreat, craning my neck and holding my breath. Once, twice he pressed a teasing kiss to my mouth. When he returned a third time, the kiss immediately turned hungry. Teeth and tongue encouraged me to open for him and I did, placing my mug on the table beside us with fumbling fingers.

  Unencumbered by my coffee, I was free to touch him. So I did. I gripped his sides as he tasted me, the rhythmic slide of his hot tongue in my mouth had me pressing against him, needing to anchor our bodies together.

  And then his wonderful lips left mine, his hands cupping my face and holding me still when I would’ve sought his mouth again. My lashes fluttered open, and I found him again gazing upon me.

  Jethro smoothed his fingers into my hair then down to my neck, his eyes dazed and heated, his thumbs caressing the bare skin of my collarbone.

  “I’ve missed you, too.” His voice was low and gravelly. Paired with his touch and tremendous kisses, it sent delicious, shivery warmth racing along my nerves to my fingertips and toes.

  He missed me! Yay for me. Yay for missing me. Yay for Jethro.

  “It would be my pleasure to pick you up in the mornings and bring you to the set.” His hands dropped, abandoning my skin, and he stepped back. Though he continued to gaze upon me, his gaze grew distant, guarded, and he clenched his hands into fists.

  I nodded mutely, only able to watch him as I was not yet capable of forming words. Even so, my face split into a confused, hopeful smile.

  He returned the nod with a single one of his own, saying, “We’ll see you on Monday.”

  And then he turned and left the trailer.

  I stared at the door for a good thirty seconds before his parting words untangled themselves.

  We’ll see you Monday.

  We . . .

  Who the heck is we?

  CHAPTER 16

  “Your perspective on life and loss comes from the cage you were held captive in.”

  ― Shannon L. Alder

  ~Sienna~

  “I’m disappointed in you, Sienna.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and found Cletus Winston standing just behind me, holding a doughnut in each hand. We were in the dining tent, which was mostly empty. Tom had left earlier for L.A. and would be gone for the entire week. I’d been taking advantage of his and Elon’s absence by spending the morning outside my trailer.

  Before Cletus’s interruption, I’d been attempting to work. Attempting being the operative word.

  “Why is that, Cletus?”

  He claimed the empty chair next to
me, and I extended my hand for a doughnut, assuming one of the two was for me. I assumed wrong.

  “These are mine; you can’t have one.” He held them away and took a bite from the one with pink icing.

  Dropping my hand, I watched him chew as he eyed me defiantly.

  Jethro, true to his word, had picked me up that morning. The we included Cletus. So it was Jethro, Cletus, and I together in Jethro’s truck.

  Cletus had been pointedly sullen and quiet for the entire drive. Worse, Jethro was back to being respectfully friendly, not kissing friendly. It was difficult to switch mental gears when you’re expecting kissing friendly and instead you end up with one angry Winston brother and forced politeness from the other.

  “Okay. Fine. Why are you disappointed in me, Cletus?”

  “Because I provided means and opportunity. All you had to do was exploit the situation.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “On Friday? With the blankets and coffee? You think that was all by accident? That was arranged.”

  “Arranged?” I blinked at him while he tore off another piece of his doughnut. It smelled like it was strawberry flavored.

  “Yes. Arranged.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms and examined Cletus. I decided he was odd. “You’re odd.”

  “Yes. I am. But that doesn’t negate the fact that you fumbled my pass. If we’re going to make this thing happen with Jethro, I need you to bring your A-game.”

  “This is about Jethro?” I sat up straighter.

  “Of course. What’d you think I was talking about?” Apparently I wasn’t catching on quickly enough because he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes with great effect. “Do you want my help or not?”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I said quickly, leaning forward at full attention. “Yes. I want your help.”

  “Fine then. We need to coordinate our attack.” Cletus punctuated this statement by popping the remainder of the first doughnut in his mouth.

  “Good. Yes. Attack synchronization.” My phone rang as he chewed. I glanced at the screen, saw it was Marta, and sent it to voicemail.