Grin and Beard It (Winston Brothers #2)

by Penny Reid

“Good.” She nodded once, sounding thoughtful. “In that case, I insist you taste my thighs and breasts.”

  These words, so calmly and earnestly spoken, rendered us all speechless.

  Even Cletus.

  I do believe we stared at Sienna in a collective state of paralyzed suspension, no one quite knowing how to react to her offer.

  I felt her shoulders shake, so I shifted to the side, wanting to catch her expression. Her irresistible dimples flashed in full force and she giggled as she explained, “I have a great mojo chicken recipe. We can grill the chicken and sausage together.” Then to Cletus she said, “It’ll help with the wet heat.”

  I looked to the heavens, hidden by the porch ceiling. “God, thank you for sending me this woman.”

  Meanwhile, Cletus blinked once as though startled, but then a slow grin spread over his typically solemn features.

  Beau, holding his hand over his heart, took the bait. “Sienna, I would be honored to taste your thighs and breasts.”

  I shot him a warning glare. “Don’t you say that to her.” But I couldn’t keep my face straight either.

  “What? What did I say?” Beau tried to sound and look affronted. “I was talking about her chicken. Obviously.”

  Cletus’s grin had grown into an immense smile as his gaze moved over my woman with plain appreciation. “Well played, Ms. Diaz. Well played.”

  In fact, everyone was either smiling or laughing. I glanced at each of my younger brothers and my sister, trying to remember the last time we’d all been together and laughing. Last Christmas came pretty close. Before that, it had been a few days before our momma died. She’d requested we tell her jokes, so we did our best to be funny for her.

  This was different.

  Different because no one was on their best behavior. No one was pretending for the sake of the others. Every one of us were just ourselves. We were enjoying each other and our growing family—Drew, Jess, and now hopefully Sienna.

  I couldn’t help but think it was a perfect moment.

  And then, as usual, when things were better than good, I couldn’t help but think I didn’t deserve to be a part of it.

  ***

  “I have to admit, I was hoping you’d take me to Hawk’s Field or Jess and Duane’s love nest,” Sienna said on a sigh as soon as we pulled onto the gravel circle around Bandit Lake.

  Her words put a smile on my face. “I could turn around.”

  Sienna sighed again. “No. I have an early flight tomorrow. I have to be up and at the airport by 4:00 a.m.”

  “Where are you going?” I knew she had a trip as I’d overheard people on set talking about her leaving for the weekend.

  “I have a meeting in L.A. about a script I finished a few weeks ago. They’re already moving forward with the casting. It’s a quick trip, I’ll be back on Sunday night.” She frowned at Hank’s place as we pulled into the drive. “Will you call me? While I’m gone?”

  The edge of vulnerability I heard made me want to hold her close and reassure her with slow, deliberate kisses. Problem was, if I held her close I’d be telling myself a few kisses weren’t enough. I’d want a taste of her breasts and thighs, and I wasn’t referring to her mojo chicken recipe.

  “Of course.” I slid her an easy smile, then handed her my unlocked phone. “Type in your number.”

  I walked around the truck to her door as she programmed her contact info. When I opened her door, she took my hand and allowed me to help her down, entwining our fingers and keeping hold of my phone.

  “We need someplace with good light,” she said distractedly, frowning at the darkness of early evening. “Come up here on the porch.”

  I let her tug me behind her and lead me up the stairs. She was on a mission and from my place behind her I was graced with a great view of her ass and legs. With each swish of her skirt I was reminded that her stockings ended halfway up her thighs. And that reminded me of touching her skin.

  By the time we made it to the porch and she flipped on the overhead lights, I’d forgotten she had my phone. Sienna turned, opened her mouth to tell me something, but I stopped her by capturing her bottom lip with my teeth.

  Her breath hitched.

  Her eyes widened.

  Her body tensed.

  I liked that I’d surprised her, could taste it in the air between us.

  I licked her lip and slipped my arm around her waist, gripping a handful of her ass. I needed the flavor of her on my tongue and the softness of her body beneath my grip. I wasn’t going to lift her skirt on the porch, but I could show her how much I wanted to.

  Sienna moaned, long lashes drifting shut, relaxing against me while she swept her tongue out to invite me in. She arched, her body stretching along mine, pressing her tits to my chest and her rounded ass into my palm. Everywhere our bodies met, heat spread like wildfire. Spikes of cold and hot traveled up my spine and down my legs, causing my hips to roll in an instinctive rhythm.

  Pulling her mouth from mine, Sienna said on a gasp, “Jethro, this is such a bad idea.”

  I was about to ask her if she wanted me to stop when she dug her fingers into my scalp and brought my mouth to her neck. “Don’t stop.”

  Her contradicting messages had me smiling against her skin. It may have been a bad idea, making out on the front porch of Hank Weller’s cabin for anyone to see. Well, anyone passing by—which no one ever did—or her guards to stumble upon—which was more likely. But I didn’t want to let her go.

  “I want to touch your heat.” I nipped the underside of her jaw, telling her what I wanted to do but couldn’t presently make a reality. Not yet. “Slide my fingers inside.”

  “Holy shit I love your accent,” she breathed out in a rush, more like holyshitIloveyouraccent. “Say something else.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Anything! Anything that makes you hot.”

  “What about making you hot?”

  “I’m guessing anything that makes you hot will also make me hot.”

  “Fine then, I want to leave love bites here.” I palmed her breast and massaged, rubbing my thumb in a slow circle around her nipple. I wanted to suck her skin between my teeth, and soothe the sting with my tongue. “I want to feel you beneath me, panting, moaning . . .”

  My face was still buried in her neck, my fingers pulling aside the edge of her shirt to expose the skin of her shoulder, when I heard a soft click.

  I stiffened, a new kind of adrenaline—the kind laced with frustration and dread—pumped through my veins. I immediately lifted my head, searching for the source of the sound. Preparing to smash both the cameras and the heads of any voyeurs lurking nearby, my initial sweep revealed no one but us.

  Sienna was watching me with a dazed, but sublimely happy expression. And her arm was raised to one side, the screen of the phone facing us. Set to camera mode.

  It took me near a full minute before I comprehended that Sienna had used my cell to snap a picture.

  “What did you—”

  “Look. I’m going to make this my avatar on your phone.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and gave me a naughty grin, then showed me the screen. It was a picture of us making out, her head thrown back, her neck and shoulder exposed, and it was very, very hot. Sienna continued on a seductive whisper, “So every time I call . . .”

  I shook my head, both loving and hating her idea. “You are so bad.”

  “If I’m so bad, then why are you smiling, Ranger?”

  I stole another kiss, rolling my hips against hers because I now knew she liked it, waited until I felt her body tense with urgency, then pulled away and snatched my phone from her fingers.

  Walking backward, I enjoyed watching her chest rise and fall with heavy breaths, liked how her eyes were clouded and hungry. Grinning, I left her on the porch and tossed my answer over my shoulder as I strolled away. “Because you’re also very, very good.”

  ***

  I was in trouble.

  My cell phon
e company alerted me late Sunday afternoon that I’d nearly used up all my text messages for the entire month. I suspected the seventy-five or so texts I’d exchanged with Sienna since Friday night were the cause.

  So I called and upgraded to the unlimited plan.

  But that’s not why I was in trouble.

  I was in trouble because I’ve never been the text-messaging sort. I figure, you got something to say and you expect me to pay attention, it better be important. If it’s important, you call or stop by.

  It took just three minutes and one quick exchange with Sienna on Saturday morning for me to change my tune.

  Sienna: What are you doing?

  Jethro: Cutting buttresses for the carriage house. You?

  Sienna: Thinking about you.

  Yep. That’s all it took. I read and reread the words for at least a full minute, probably longer. Three words on my phone staring back at me, evidence that what we had between us wasn’t one-sided.

  Two hundred twelve messages and thirty-six hours later, I was in deep, drinking the text-messaging moonshine and waiting for my next fix. Of course it helped that every time she sent a text I got an eyeful of the avatar she’d set next to her name. Plus, she was just as irresistible via phone as she was in person.

  Sienna: If you re-arrange the letters of Jethro, you can spell ‘Hot Jer’

  Sienna: Also ‘OJ Reth’, ‘Thor Je’, and ‘JT Hero’ All of which would make an excellent name for a DJ.

  Jethro: Whereas yours spells ‘A sin’ with ‘ne’ left over.

  Sienna: FYI mine also spells ‘insane’

  Sienna: So watch out!

  Sienna: ;-)

  I chuckled, covering my mouth with my hand. Throughout the day she’d sent various pictures of herself doing funny things. In one she’d posed with a guy on Hollywood Boulevard who was dressed like Smash-Boy, both of them making angry faces, with the caption: “You make Smash angry when you don’t send shirtless pictures.”

  We’d been doing this since she left, sending dumb stuff back and forth or just conversing about our day.

  Jethro: Insane and Sienna… That’s quite a coincidence.

  Sienna: I often wonder if my parents did it on purpose.

  Jethro: What time do you get in tonight?

  Sienna: Past midnight.

  Jethro: Do you want me to pick you up?

  Sienna: No. Get your sleep.

  Sienna: And dream of me.

  Sienna: Naked.

  Sienna: I mean: you should sleep naked. And dream of me.

  Jethro: But not you naked?

  Sienna: If we’re both naked then I want details!

  We also texted about our families. She had a large one too, three sisters and two brothers, and they sounded like fun. Getting ahead of myself—again—I liked the idea of our kids having cousins on both sides, lots of aunts and uncles nearby and lots to visit. Sienna was the youngest and I learned her manager was her oldest sister, Marta.

  Sienna: Send a picture of yourself so I can show Marta.

  Jethro: No.

  Sienna: What? WHY??

  Sienna: I want to tell her about us. I can’t tell her if you don’t send a picture. She’ll want photographic evidence.

  Jethro: I don’t do selfies

  Sienna: That’s not what your brothers said…

  Sienna: GET IT?

  “What is so funny?”

  I glanced up, finding Claire peeping out of the kitchen, an expectant smile on her lips.

  It was Sunday afternoon and, as was my habit, I was over at Claire’s, checking in to make sure she had everything she needed. As usual, she’d invited me to stay for dinner. As usual, I’d accepted.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, slipping my phone in my pocket and resuming my work on her kitchen drawer. I was fixing the roller track.

  “You’re still smiling,” she teased, stepping into the doorway and placing her hands on her hips. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain movie star, would it?”

  I tossed her my best impression of irritation, but it wasn’t very effective seeing as how I was still smiling. “None of your business.”

  She returned my glare, the effect also lost since she was still smiling. “Come on, Jet. I’m dying here. Cletus said you had her over for dinner?”

  “You two girls gossip about anyone else? Or just me?”

  “Stop being coy. I’m excited for you.” Claire sounded exasperated. “Cletus seems to approve, and if Cletus approves then she’s got to be great.”

  “She is great,” I said without thinking, the words slipping out easy as breathing.

  “Then tell me about her. How did you meet? How serious is it? What’ll you do when the movie wraps up?”

  I was with her until the last question, and then I felt my smile slip. “We haven’t talked about what happens when the movie wraps, but we’ll figure it out, I guess.”

  “You guess? Meaning you’ll still be seeing each other after?”

  “I hope so.”

  Now that was an understatement.

  “I’m so happy for you.” The quiet sincerity in her tone had me looking up from the drawer and into her big sapphire-blue eyes. “I’m so happy to see you finally putting yourself out there. I was starting to worry you’d never fill that house with kids.”

  “Now hold on.” I stood, picking up the fixed drawer and scooting past her into the kitchen. “This thing just started. Ain’t nothing serious yet.”

  “Come on, give me some credit.”

  I didn’t have to be looking at Claire to know she’d just rolled her eyes.

  “We’re taking things slow.”

  She snorted. “Well, now I know it’s serious. You have to promise me you’ll bring her over for dinner. I promise not to embarrass you too much,” Claire said, and then added under her breath, “though I might embarrass myself.”

  I smiled, but kept my back to her so she wouldn’t see. “What about you?”

  “Don’t start with me. Maybe I’ve got plans you don’t know about yet.”

  I fit the drawer in its slot, rolling it back and forth a few times to make sure the movement was smooth before turning to tease my friend. “No, no, no. If I’m taking chances with my heart, maybe it’s time for you to do the same.”

  She folded her hands under her chin and blinked several times. “Oh my apple pie. Jethro Winston, taking chances with his heart. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Very funny. Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you and Billy?”

  Claire stiffened. Her hands dropped and her smile dimmed. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. Why would you tell Billy that you and I were involved?”

  Her smile vanished entirely. A flash of remorse and guilt passed over her features, almost too quick for me to see before she succeeded in masking her emotions. Claire was real good at this, hiding her feelings. It had been a survival technique, learned over the course of a bitter childhood.

  “I never told him that.” Her tone was flat and defensive.

  “Did you ever strongly imply that we were together?” I meant to tease her about this. However, based on her reaction, I was careful to keep my tone light but devoid of playfulness.

  She said nothing, just glared at me with blue eyes that held so much wisdom it physically hurt to look at her. I knew she’d been ill-treated as a child. She was the only daughter of Razor, the president of the Iron Wraiths motorcycle club. Saying he’d been a bad father would be like calling Cletus mildly unconventional. She’d escaped the club when she was a teenager and had married Ben at eighteen.

  Ben had treated her right, but I knew his gentleness could never make up for the years of abuse that came before.

  I tried a different approach; I could usually charm her if the need arose. “If you didn’t imply it, did you infer it?”

  She cracked a regretful smile, just a small one, and turned away. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry for what?�
�

  “I’m sorry if I’ve caused any problems between you and your brother.”

  I stared at her back for a long time, watched her shoulders rise and fall as I waited. She said nothing. I swear, this woman was as stubborn as a boulder.

  “Claire, I don’t know what’s going on, or what happened between you and Billy, but—”

  “Nothing happened between me and . . .” she paused, rubbed her eyes with the base of her palms and took a deep breath, “between me and him, not for a long time. Not since before Ben. Not since we were teenagers.”

  Not since we were teenagers . . . This was news to me.

  I crossed my arms, seeing my good friend in a new light. “Well now, you got me feeling like I deserve some answers. I didn’t know anything had ever happened between you and Billy.”

  Her shoulders fell and she shook her head. “It was so long ago, Jethro. I’m sorry if my silence on the matter caused you trouble, I truly am. I didn’t infer or imply. I promise. I just . . .” She lifted a hand to her chest and rubbed her ribs just beneath her heart, turning her head to give me her profile, like she couldn’t bring herself to look at me. “I just didn’t deny anything when he asked.”

  “And what gives him the right to ask?”

  “Exactly.” Now she did look at me, her eyes hard and her whisper fierce. “He doesn’t have a right.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all.”

  ― Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death

  ~Sienna~

  Jethro didn’t send me a selfie.

  Instead he sent a picture of him and a gigantic black bear in the background. The bear was in a cage and was asleep or had been tranquilized. Jethro was crouching down next to the cage, but at a safe distance, not looking at the camera. My heart gave a happy leap, tingly pinpricks of warmth dancing beneath my skin. I smiled wistfully, at least it felt wistful on my lips.

  He was so handsome to me. He was the handsomest.

  Jethro: This is the only picture of myself I have on my phone. It’ll have to do.