by Lucy Score
“What the—”
The brothers charged out the door and down the porch stairs where they yanked the man off the porch roof into the shrubs below.
“Oh, dear,” Phoebe sighed and poured a little wine into a coffee mug.
They returned in a tangle of limbs and swearing with a middle-aged man in their midst.
“Now listen, boys. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was just checking the shingles—”
“Save it, Franklin,” Phoebe groaned.
“Franklin?” Beckett took a look at the intruder’s face. “Shit.” He released the man’s arm.
“Good to see you, Beckett. Hey, what time is the Chamber meeting this week?” Franklin asked.
“You know this guy?” Jackson demanded.
“It’s Franklin. He owns the Italian place. He buys produce from us,” Carter said, dropping the other arm.
“Well, boys, your mother and I—”
“I need to sit down,” Beckett announced and flopped down on the ottoman in the living room.
Jackson went to the fridge and pulled out a container of roast beef.
“Jackson Scott! That’s my lunch for today,” Phoebe yelled.
“I’m eating my feelings, Mom!”
Summer reached around Carter and offered her hand to Franklin. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Summer.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Summer. The editor, right? Phoebe is really excited about the article. And I’ve heard a lot about you since you got into town. Sounds like love is in the air everywhere,” he winked.
Carter groaned.
“Oh my God. Summer, you’re not going to write about this, are you?” Beckett demanded, shoving his hands into his hair making it spring out between his fingers.
“I don’t think this will really fit well into the piece,” Summer said diplomatically. No one would believe her anyway.
Carter moved Summer out of his way and headed to the coffeemaker. “I’m going to need more caffeine for this.” He jabbed the buttons on the machine until it sputtered to life. He lined up five mugs on the island before grudgingly grabbing a sixth.
“So, Mom. Where do you want to start?” he asked conversationally.
“How about how long has this been going on without you feeling the need to tell your own sons about it?” Beckett grumbled from the living room.
Phoebe sighed. “Well, if you’re all here, we might as well do this over breakfast. Jax, honey, I’m happy to see you, but if you don’t put the roast beef down now, I’m going to beat you with a spoon,” she threatened.
Jax reluctantly shoved the container back in the refrigerator. “Fine, then I want eggs,” he said, pushing a carton of Pierce Eggs into her hands.
“And pancakes,” Beckett called.
“I make great pancakes,” Franklin announced, hurrying into the kitchen to join Phoebe at the stove. “Carter can you hand me the griddle? It’s in the cupboard on your left.”
“He knows where the griddle is,” Jax hissed at Beckett.
“He was climbing out of Mom’s bedroom window,” Beckett muttered through the throw pillow he was holding over his face. “He knows where a lot more than the griddle is.”
Carter pushed a mug of coffee into Summer’s hands. “Thank you for not laughing out loud,” he whispered in her ear.
“Are you mad?”
“I’m… open to hearing their side of the story,” he decided.
“Will they be okay?” Summer nodded toward his brothers. Jax had joined Beckett in the living room and was unwrapping a dozen mini candy bars he found in a dish on the coffee table.
“They’ll be fine. In a decade or so.”
8
With the scowl still in place, Beckett dropped everyone off at the farmhouse and sped off to take care of his mayoral duties for the day.
“You’ve got to hand it to Franklin,” Jackson yawned. “He does make a mean batch of pancakes.”
“Are you going to be okay with your mom dating?” Summer asked him as they trooped back the hall to the kitchen.
Jackson shrugged. “No one should go through life alone. They obviously care about each other. I just wish they would have told us about it before we had to haul him off a roof.”
“It’s a waste of time wishing that family would have made different decisions,” Carter said quietly. He wasn’t looking at Jackson when he said it, but the implication was clear.
“We’ve all made mistakes, Carter,” Jackson said evenly.
“I know,” that steely gaze leveled at his brother. “And it’s up to us to fix them. So make sure you do.”
There was a brisk knock at the side door before it opened. Joey marched in carrying a stack of papers. “Please tell me there’s coffee,” she yawned.
Jackson started for her, and Joey froze in recognition. The papers in her hand tumbled to the floor in a slow motion whoosh. He didn’t stop until he was on her, hands threading into her hair, pulling her face in. His mouth met hers like it was locking in on a purpose for being.
Eyes wide, Summer wondered if all Pierce men kissed that way.
Joey pulled back looking dazed.
“Hey, Jojo,” Jackson breathed.
Summer saw the fire in Joey’s eyes and braced for it, her fingers digging into Carter’s arm, but Jackson never saw it coming. He only had eyes for Joey and missed the wind up. Her palm connected with his face with a resounding slap, knocking him back a pace.
Her boots echoed on the hardwood as she marched out the door. The screen door slammed behind her, papers forgotten on the floor.
“Should have seen that coming,” Carter grinned.
“God, I love that woman,” Jackson whispered holding his cheek.
Carter wriggled his frame under the trailer hitch and pulled the cover off the wires. The taillights were shorting out, and he didn’t want to give Donovan Cardona, Blue Moon’s sheriff and his high school buddy, a reason to pull him over and razz him.
It was nice and quiet here on the floor of the barn. He debated hiding out here all day.
He had put Summer and Jax to work divvying up the shares for their community supported agriculture program tomorrow. It was their biggest year yet. They had sold out in record time, and thankfully the early spring had been kind to their harvest of lettuce, radishes, broccoli, and squash.
His brother was back, and Carter didn’t know what it meant. Jax had come home for holidays occasionally over the years, but this visit felt different. Everything felt different.
He had a woman staying in his house that he couldn’t stop thinking about, one who questioned his every move. He had a group of well-meaning Mooners out to get him and force him into settling down. His mother was dating. He didn’t even want to think about what Jax’s return meant for Joey.
Thank God Beckett was still the same obnoxious smartass. Some things would never change.
Carter disconnected a wire and cleaned up the contact.
Only a few days ago, he would have been doing this with the certainty of solitude. No one asking him a thousand questions. No one to keep from injuring herself. He could just grab a sandwich for lunch and eat on the go. No one sleeping in the guest room wearing those little cotton shorts and tank top so thin he could see her—
His hand slipped and his knuckles grazed a bolt, drawing blood. “Son of a bitch!” Just the thought of Summer turned him into a ham-fisted moron.
He crawled out from under the trailer and was wrapping his hand with a mostly clean rag when he heard the yelling.
He was out the door in a flash and was halfway to the house when he spotted what was causing the commotion.
Clementine had Jax by the jeans, and at the rate she was going, there wouldn’t be much left. Summer was standing on the other side of the fence with the pigs, watching through her fingers in horror as the goat devoured his pants.
“Get off me,” Jax bellowed, trying to drag the denim from Clementine’s teeth. “Jesus, are you on fucking steroids?”
He spun around, once and then twice, but the goat held on.
Jax gave one more tug and it was too much for the fabric. The back pocket and a good portion of his underwear were ripped clean.
Clementine trotted away with her prize. “Goddamn it! Those were Hanros,” he said, clutching at his shredded underwear.
Summer’s horror turned to giggles. Jax turned to glare at her.
“I’m sorry, Jackson!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t mean to laugh at you.”
Jax pushed past Carter muttering how much he hated that “stupid fucking goat.”
“Welcome home, Hollywood,” Carter called after him.
Jax mustered as much dignity as he could with his bare ass hanging out and raised his middle finger high as he stomped up the porch steps. “Fuck you, Carter.”
With the CSA shares sorted and Carter nowhere in sight, Summer decided she would head into town. She had jeans to buy, and after pizza last night, she wanted to get a better feel for Blue Moon.
She changed out of her work clothes and was leaving a note for Carter in the kitchen when Jax came in through the side door.
“Don’t you clean up nice?”
“I don’t always have vegetable dirt smeared all over me,” she laughed. “I’m heading into town. I need more jeans.”
“Clem get you, too?”
“First day here. They were True Religion.” She grimaced.
“Damn goat. She’s got good taste. Mind if I tag along with you? I’ve got some shopping of my own to do.”
“Sure.”
“Just let me get changed. I’ll meet you out front.”
Five minutes later, Jax was sliding the passenger seat in Summer’s rental all the way back. Those long Pierce legs required a lot of room.
“So where’s the best place to buy goat-proof jeans?” Summer asked, guiding the car down the driveway.
“There’s McCafferty’s on the square. They’ve got some heavier-duty options,” Jax said, running a hand through his short, choppy hair.
He was a little leaner than his brothers. Jax topped out an inch or two over six feet, but the profile, the walk, the eyes, they were all Pierce. He had a vibe that was uniquely his, though. Where Carter was the peaceful warrior and Beckett the cautious, by-the-book politician, Jax threw off the air of enigmatic artist.
Joey must have been head over heels for him in high school, Summer thought.
McCafferty’s Farm Supply took up all three floors of the skinny white clapboard building at the end of the square. From the outside it looked just as tidy as the rest of the buildings flanking the green, but on the inside, it was crammed full of chaos from top to bottom.
There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the organization. Gas-powered generators sat next to a rounder of coveralls and extension cords. Horse bridles hung from pegboard behind a stacked display of wax logs. Cowboy hats and flowered straw hats were clumped together on top of every flat surface.
“Oh, my.”
Jax laid a hand on her shoulder. “Most of the clothes are upstairs, and if we’re careful we can avoid—”
One of those flowered hats floated toward them.
“Jackson Pierce, as I live and breathe!”
The hat, and the short, round woman under it emerged from the sales floor. She was wearing thick glasses and a denim shirt embroidered with the McCafferty logo.
“Miz McCafferty!” The enthusiasm in Jax’s voice didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I haven’t seen you in what is it now? Eight years? You lit out of town right before graduation after that horrible accident. My, you’ve grown,” she said, eyeing him appreciatively. “You Pierce boys sure give us ladies lots to look at in Blue Moon.” She perched her elbows on the register counter. “I hear you’re a big-time movie maker now.”
“I just write ‘em, Miz McCafferty. Someone else makes ‘em.”
“Now, who’s being modest?” she chuckled. “Notice I’m not asking what Joey thinks of you coming home. I’m no busybody. No siree. I keep my nose in my own business. Although, I’m sure you’ve been getting peppered with questions since you came home…” She waited for him to fill in the blank.
“This morning.”
“Right, this morning.” She smiled, knowing she had hit fresh gossip. “Now what can I help you find?”
Jax shoved Summer toward the stairs. “We’re just here for some jeans.”
“Oh, hi there, Summer!” Mrs. McCafferty called. “I didn’t recognize you there with the wrong Pierce brother. If there’s anything you two need, just let me know.” She was already reaching for her cell phone as Jax shoved Summer up the stairs in front of him.
“And you willingly came back to this?” Summer wondered, climbing to the second floor.
“You know how sometimes with time and distance you can romanticize things?”
“Yeah?”
“I think with time and distance, I forgot all about Miz McCafferty.”
“She’d be heartbroken to hear you say that.”
“Jeans are over here,” Jax said pointing to the back corner.
They were piled on the floor, stacked on shelves, and hung from clothing rods. It was a mountain of denim.
“How do you find anything?” Summer asked.
“Just start digging.”
It took her ten minutes to find two pairs of jeans in her size plus a pair of comfy-looking cargo pants. On the bright side, all three together were still significantly cheaper than the pair sampled by Clementine.
“We can try everything on in there,” Jax, holding an armful of clothing, pointed to two stalls cordoned off with sagging rope and tarp that acted as fitting room curtains. “I’ll take this one,” Jax said, gesturing to the room with the curtain that sagged to mid-chest.
Summer gratefully pulled the tarp closed on the room with slightly taller coverage and was delighted to find that all three pairs of pants fit perfectly. The jeans had reinforced stitching and seats and would look great with her boots. The cargos were as comfortable as sweatpants and looked much nicer on her butt.
She exited the room, pleased with her finds and was greeted by a shirtless Jax digging through a messy pile of t-shirts.
Wow. Those Pierce genes were experts in crafting perfection.
“Find what you need?” Jax asked, oblivious to her gawking.
“I think so.”
“You might want to consider a couple of three dollar t-shirts,” he said, tossing her a cherry red V-neck.
Back into the fitting room she went. She heard Jax’s phone ring next door.
“What’s up?”
“Yeah, she’s with me.”
“What are we doing? We’re getting naked.”
Summer heard his quick laugh. “Relax. We’re enhancing our farm wardrobes at McCafferty’s.”
Jax was quiet for a minute. “How about we bring home dinner? Will that make you less of a dick? You call it in. We’ll pick it up.”
Okay. Later.” He hung up. “I’m breaking a brotherly code here, but Carter was not happy about the idea of you getting naked with me,” he called over the tarp.
Summer was glad he couldn’t see the blush creep across her face. “He’s probably protective of all his houseguests.”
Jax laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Summer.”
By the time they left, Summer had amassed a collection of pants, shorts, t-shirts, and a baseball hat all for less than the pair of destroyed jeans. Flushed with success, she gleefully tossed the haul in the trunk of her car.
“Wow, you can’t buy a t-shirt for thirty dollars in Manhattan, let alone three.”
“L.A., too. The underwear Clem satanically destroyed cost me seventy-five.” He threw his bag in the trunk and closed the lid. “What else do you want to see while we’re here?”
Summer looked down the street. “What’s OJ by Julia?” she asked, spotting a colorful chalkboard sign in front of a neon green shop a few buildings down.
“Organic juice shop. Ever have a wheatgrass shot with an apple ginger juice chaser?” Jax asked.
“Can’t say that I have,” Summer laughed.
“Well, let’s give it a whirl.”
OJ by Julia was just as colorful on the inside as the out. Deep purple cushioned benches slid up against lime green wainscoting and flanked black tables. Stainless steel industrial lighting fixtures highlighted coolers of mason jars filled with colorful juices. There was a bar with high-backed stools, and the menu was written in a charming script on blackboard in neon chalk.
A lavender head popped up from behind the counter.
“Well, well, well. Jackson Pierce. Of all the juice joints in all the world, you had to walk into mine.”
“Julia,” Jax grinned. “Look at you all entrepreneurial.”
She scooted out from behind the counter, leading with a very pregnant belly. “And pregnant as all hell,” she said, hugging him as best she could.
“You were pregnant at Dad’s funeral, weren’t you? This still the same one?” Jax teased.
“That was my first. We’re on our third now.”
“Holy shit, Jules.”
“I know, I know. But Rob and I wanted to get them all out of the way before we’re too old to play or tackle them when they’re awful.” She tossed her light purple curls out of her face. “Now what can I do for you two?”
“My friend Summer here has never had wheatgrass.” Jax said pulling out one of the stools for her.
“Well, Summer, you’re in for a treat. First wheatgrass is on the house,” Julia winked.
“I’m anxious to try liquid grass.” Summer sat, as Julia cut spears of green grass from a potted flat on the counter.
“Summer’s here doing an article on the farm,” Jax said, taking the seat next to her.
“I know,” Julia winked. “But I find it incredibly rude when strangers skip over the whole introduction part even though they already know who you are and where you got your cowboy boots.”
“Not to mention creepy,” Summer added.
“You get used to it eventually,” Julia said running the blades of grass through a hand-cranked juicer. Juice the color of spring clover trickled into the shot glass.