by Serena Bell
I think I make a small, startled sound, because Brody’s eyes leave the road and find my face for a second, making sure everything’s okay. I smile, signaling that it is, but he still looks concerned, and his hand finds my thigh again.
I like them both, that concern and that hand on my thigh.
I listen to the rest of Hettie’s explanation, which is long and complicated and concludes with, Call me first thing Monday.
Right, the call came in on East Coast time right around five p.m. on a Friday. Not gonna learn anything more till Monday.
“They can give me my job back,” I tell Brody.
His eyes leave the road again. “What?”
“So apparently one of my coworkers gave notice yesterday and they can reallocate her position as long as I’m willing to leave children’s for adult, which I totally am. So I have my job back!”
“That’s great!” Brody says. “You must be psyched.”
“Uh—” I say.
To be honest, I can’t figure out what I’m feeling. Relieved? Maybe. I mean, this is huge, right? Basically, the plan is back on track, minus Werner, and the only way to think about Werner is as a wrong turn.
But I am enjoying my strange Rush Creek detour. This time out of time, nothing happening the way I expect. There’s something about knowing it will end—and how—that is disappointing.
“I think I’m not quite ready for my vacation to be over,” I tell Brody. That’s a thing, right? Of course it is. And as soon as I say it, I feel better, because no one wants to go back to work.
I hadn’t realized Brody was tensed up, but when I say that, his jaw loosens a bit and his shoulders drop.
“I’m not ready for it to be over either,” he says, and his fingers tighten on my thigh. I can feel the echo of that all the way in my core, and my clit perks up.
“Either way, I have to stay till my mom’s foot is healed,” I remind him.
But it’s only two more weeks until the date the doctor threw out to her, and suddenly that doesn’t feel like very long.
I squeeze Brody’s hand, and he flips his hand to squeeze mine back.
I remember that I never responded to Amanda.
“I have to text your sister. We’re having dinner tomorrow night.”
Brody’s eyes meet mine again, startled. “Wait, what?” He pulls into my parents’ neighborhood as I text Amanda back, Yes, perfect, can’t wait.
“Amanda and Lucy and Hanna and I are having dinner tomorrow night.” I glance at him to find him staring at me with a look I can only describe as horror. “What? Is that bad?”
“No,” he says, and then, more firmly, “no. It’s good. They’re good people. Have a good time. Say hi from me. If Easton’s there, don’t talk to him.”
“What?”
“He’ll flirt with any woman with a pulse, and he’s especially prone to trying to seduce women his brothers are interested in. We’ve almost disowned him several times, but he’s such a magnet, we can’t afford not to keep him around.”
I giggle.
He pulls into my driveway and parks, then leans over and kisses me. Hard. Sweeping his tongue into my mouth, cupping my head, leaving me breathless.
Drawing back, he smiles at me. “Damn. Now I don’t want you to get out of the truck.”
“My cousin’s coming for dinner and my mom made ropa vieja, so I have to. But I’ll see you Sunday. For a Perez-Wilder family dinner.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Oh. That’ll be—challenging. Maybe I should just tell Connor before that so we don’t have to pretend nothing’s going on.”
I tilt my head. “Is it worth telling him, when I’m leaving?”
Brody scowls, which he hasn’t done for a while. And I have to admit, as much as I love his smile, I love his scowl, too. “I guess not,” he says. “Why rock the boat when it doesn’t have to be rocked?”
I give him one more kiss, then exit the truck. As I’m walking around it to the house, he lowers the window and calls, “Rach.”
“Yeah?”
“When you go out with the girls tomorrow night?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Don’t believe everything they tell you.”
Then he drives away.
I replay that line in my head a bunch of times.
He doesn’t sound like he’s teasing.
19
Rachel
I push open the door at Oscar’s Saloon & Grill, searching for Amanda, Hanna, and Lucy.
Oscar’s was my favorite restaurant as a kid. I used to beg to go there. I always ordered the same thing: a bacon cheeseburger with extra fries.
It hasn’t changed much. It still has the swinging saloon doors, the big mural of cowboys on the dusty main street of old Rush Creek, the moose and elk heads mounted over the bar.
They’ve refreshed some of the decor, but those parts have stayed the same, and I get a warm, homey feeling when I step in, which is intensified when Hanna, Lucy, and Amanda all wave me over to their table.
I’m a little nervous about going out for drinks with Amanda because of the whole bagged-her-brother dynamic. What gives me courage is the fact that Lucy is Gabe’s girlfriend, and that doesn’t seem to have kept her and Amanda from becoming chummy.
I’m also on edge because of the cryptic thing Brody said last night when he dropped me off, about not believing everything they said. What was that about?
Amanda and Lucy greet me warmly, and I return their hugs and hellos. Hanna, who hasn’t left her seat, grunts hello, then says, “Has someone briefed her on the rules?”
Amanda and Lucy roll their eyes. “Hanna is here provisionally,” Amanda says. “She’ll leave if we talk about anything girly.” She frowns. “Han, does that include vibrators? Because I can’t promise not to ask Rachel important questions about vibrators.”
She says this last part like the words start with capital letters: Important Questions About Vibrators.
“Hell no,” Hanna says. “There’s nothing girly about vibrators. They’re God’s gift to clitorises.”
Lucy’s eyes meet mine, and I see the question in them—Are you okay with this madness?
I smile and shrug, and she grins back at me.
Amanda sets her drink on the table. “Good, because honestly, Hanna, if you shut down the vibrator talk, I was going to make you leave.”
Hanna gives Amanda the finger and Amanda smiles sweetly back.
“Happy to answer any and all questions,” I say.
“Excellent!” Amanda beams.
Just then, our waitress comes to the table, a pretty young woman with dark hair and big blue eyes. She is super familiar—I think she might have been in the class ahead of me at school. Her nametag says “Jill.”
“Jill, this is—”
“You’re Connor’s sister, right?”
I nod. “Rachel.”
“Jill Cooper,” she says. “I was a year ahead of your brother in school. But I knew who he was.”
“Sadly, I think everyone in your class knows who Connor is.” I give her a what-can-you-do look.
As juniors, Connor and Brody crashed the senior prom, got caught drinking, and were suspended from school. (To their credit, they did not and were not planning to drive.) Later, they were also both suspended for stealing the giant stallion statue from the entrance to the football field and putting it in the principal’s office.
Then there was the incident where Connor and his friends laid down bubble wrap on all the high school floors, but by that time, Brody had dropped out.
It’s actually kind of a miracle Connor graduated, but he managed it.
She smiles. “He and Brody kept things interesting.”
Amanda asks Jill about her boyfriend, a guy named Matt who is on the verge of proposing to her but hasn’t yet. Jill is getting impatient with him.
“Send yourself flowers from another guy,” Amanda advises.
“Does that shit actually work?” Hanna scrunches up her forehead so her eyebrows
disappear under her short bangs. That pixie cut is so adorable on her, although I imagine she’d kick my butt if I said so out loud.
“I don’t know if it works.” Amanda tilts her head. “I’ve never tried it. Maybe I should.”
Jill laughs. “I think I just need to be patient. Knowing Matt, he’s waiting for the right moment. One of my rings went missing for a couple of weeks, so that’s a good sign, right?”
“Definitely,” Amanda says.
Jill takes my drink order and asks us what appetizers we want. When she tucks her notebook away, Amanda tells her our fingers are crossed for her and that we want to know as soon as he pops the question.
“Okay,” says Amanda, when she’s gone. “Thing one is, when are you going to do a party for us?”
“Whenever you want me to,” I say. “Pick a date and we’ll do it.”
“Thing number two is, how on earth did you convince Brody to still do the party on his boat once he realized what Real Romance sells?”
I’ve been waiting to give her crap about this. “I can’t believe you knew he didn’t know, and you didn’t tell him.”
It’s Amanda’s turn to get wide-eyed. “Gabe was going to tell him,” she says slowly.
I stare at her. She stares back.
“He didn’t, did he,” she says. It’s not a question.
I shake my head.
We both look at Lucy, who is legitimately irate. “He told me he told Brody!”
Amanda’s mouth is open. “Brothers.” Her voice is thick with disgust.
“Are you surprised?” Hanna crosses her arms. “A Wilder brother had a chance to mess with another Wilder brother, and he took it. It would be much more surprising if Gabe had told Brody and ruined all the fun.”
Amanda rolls her eyes. “So you’re telling me that Brody showed up, not knowing you were going to whip out dildos?”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” I say.
“Back up a second,” Amanda says. “I need an in-depth, frame by frame, moment by moment, blow by blow—no pun intended—re-creation of the moment Brody realized you were selling eight-inch silicone cocks on his boat.”
“I mean, they’re not all eight inches,” I point out, trying not to think about eight inches I have recently become acquainted with. Must. Not. Think. About. Brody’s. Cock.
It’s like telling yourself not to think about elephants.
“Okay. Five-inch pink latex dildos, I don’t care, please, please, just tell me exactly what the expression on his face looked like.”
I flash back to the expression Brody wore when Jack Buddy was on display. And discover I’m blushing. Fiercely. Dagnabbit.
Amanda’s eyebrows go up. So do Lucy’s.
“I mean, he was definitely surprised,” I say, as quickly as I can, but I’m not fooling anyone, except maybe Hanna.
Then I glance at Hanna and discover that she’s looking back at me with her mouth open.
So, yeah, not fooling anyone.
“Wait.” Amanda puts up a finger. “Wait a second. You… and… Brody?”
My face gets even hotter. “You don’t really want to talk about this, do you?” I ask Amanda. “He’s your brother.”
“Oh, yes, she does,” Hanna says. “There is no one more interested in the Wilder brothers’ romantic adventures than Amanda-formerly-Wilder. She’s in the business of procuring cousins for her kids as fast as she possibly can.”
“No pressure,” Lucy says, making a wry face at me.
“I mean, this is just—I’m only—it’s a—”
Yeah, that sentence isn’t coming out so well, and they all look faintly amused, probably because at this point my face is the same color as Lucy’s Bloody Mary.
“If you’re about to say you’re only in town for a few weeks, don’t bother,” Hanna says, tipping her head in Lucy’s direction.
I try again, because despite the sheer goodness of things with Brody—and when I say things, I mean naughty naked things—and despite Brody’s best efforts to un-plan me, I do need to go back to my life in Boston. Now that I have my job back, it’s kind of a fait accompli.
“I really am not staying,” I say. “Anyway, Brody doesn’t strike me as the marrying kind.”
“You’d think, right?” Amanda says.
“He was going to marry Zoë.” Hanna hefts her beer stein and swigs.
Amanda’s eyes suddenly shoot daggers.
Wait. What? “Zoë?”
“Justin’s mom,” Hanna explains.
Amanda’s stare gets even darker, but Hanna is obviously not easily intimidated. “Justin is Brody’s kid,” she elaborates.
“Wait, Brody has a kid?” I ask.
Brody, like my Brody? The bad boy with the tattoos on the motorcycle? Has. A. Kid?
Don’t believe everything they tell you, I can hear him saying. Guess he knew this was going to come out tonight.
Why didn’t he tell me himself? I hunch my shoulders against the hurt.
Amanda sighs. “Yeah. Six months old. Cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Connor’s never mentioned—”
“It’s complicated,” Amanda says. She doesn’t sound angry, but there’s something in her tone that’s final.
Conversation over.
What’s not over is the unsettled feeling it leaves me with.
Lucy jumps in, addressing Amanda, which I think is her way of changing the subject. “So how are things going with expanding your catering business to dinner orders?”
Amanda starts talking animatedly about how well the catering is going, and my mind wanders to the “bar brawl” I saw Brody get into last month when I was home for my mom’s birthday. At the time, I’d felt sad for him. Brody Wilder, still up to his old antics. Part of me was disappointed, the part that had wanted to believe he’d left behind his high school self—the guy who pulled pranks for the thrill of them, picked fights, and let himself get drawn into scuffles.
My parents used to say Brody was fighting a war no one could see.
I wonder if his bar brawl was part of that fight.
I wonder if Connor knows what happened between Brody and his ex—if Brody talks to Connor about it.
Jill brings drinks and appetizers. I haven’t had cracklings—fried pork rinds—for a few years ago now, and I chow down happily.
“Hey, I hope this is okay to say.” Lucy touches my hand again. “But Amanda hinted that you’d been through some tough stuff lately and that you might want to hear my story.”
Hanna scoffs. “Amanda doesn’t hint.”
“I was very hint-y in this case,” Amanda protests. “I just told Luce that Rachel might appreciate knowing what brought Lucy to Rush Creek.”
“I would love to hear what brought you to Rush Creek,” I tell Lucy.
She grins at me. Under other circumstances, she’s the kind of woman I might find intimidating. She looks—expensive. Her clothes are fashionable and perfectly assembled. She’s wearing heels even though we’re surrounded by people for whom a fleece jacket and jeans is the new business suit. And she has that kind of glossy hair that forms perfect ringlets when you curl it, which she obviously has for our otherwise casual girls’ night.
Also, she’s wearing makeup. The only other makeup at the table is Amanda’s—a little bit of mascara and lip gloss.
I can do all that stuff—nice clothes, makeup, hair—but in reality? I almost never do. I’m so out of practice, I’m not sure I’d know where to start.
It might be nice to have a friend who could show me if I needed help.…
Then I remember I’m not staying in Rush Creek, so Lucy can’t be that friend.
Lucy tells me her story—about how a one-night stand blew up her work life and the subsequent implosion dropped her in Rush Creek. She ended up working on a plan to save Wilder Adventures—the plan that, among other things, led to Brody hosting girls’ nights.
Gabe apparently wasn’t a big fan of Lucy’s plan at first—and I sense there’s a who
le story behind that, but just as I’m about to ask, Lucy shifts her attention to me. “What about you?”
I’m hit with a painful flashback to That Day.
“Unless you don’t want to talk about it,” she says gently.
“No,” I say. “It’s helpful to talk about it.” I sigh. “In my case, it was my work life that blew up my sex life.”
I tell them the story—Amanda’s already heard it, but Hanna and Lucy haven’t—of how I came home early because I’d been fired and walked in on Werner and The Woman, which is how I think of her.
“The Woman, by the way, turns out to be someone Werner met when he was out for drinks with co-workers.” And then I supply a piece of intel I intercepted earlier this afternoon: “Facebook says they’re dating.”
They all curse out Werner colorfully, and I appreciate it.
“You’re lucky you saw his ass now,” Amanda says.
I wince at the image that pops into my head, but she’s so right.
They ask what I’m doing about my job, and I tell them about the call I got from Hettie.
“So you’re definitely going back,” Amanda says.
“I mean, yeah. Rush Creek was never for me.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I feel like I need to clarify them, since I’m surrounded by women who’ve made Rush Creek their home, but as I open my mouth, Amanda waves me off.
“Don’t,” she says. “We get it. It’s not for everyone, small town life.”
“I didn’t think it was for me,” Lucy said. “I thought I was a New York girl through and through.”
“How has it been?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Lucy smiles a sweet, secret smile. “Turns out I’m a small town girl after all.”
Amanda eyes her drink and her clothes. “You’re like a hybrid model. New York tastes, small town heart.”
Lucy laughs at that.
Jill shows up again, wanting to know if we want to order entrees or are ready to skip straight to dessert. That’s an easy question for all of us—Oscar’s has the best chocolate cake in the known universe—and Jill leaves to grab us four slices. She’s back moments later, and we all dig in with gusto.
