The Feminine Mesquite: The Complete Series

by Sable Sylvan

  Okay, he was that cute. He was more than just cute. He was sexy. He was the kind of man that belonged in a fantasy, not teasing her in real life, slipping her surreptitious glances he thought she didn’t notice.

  Abigail caught a peek of the face she was thinking about in the mirror. She saw the steely gray eyes looking in her direction, but not just in her direction. They were looking at her, through the mirror, just as she was looking at them.

  Abigail turned and glared at Clove, looking him up and down. He might’ve looked like a Viking but that didn’t mean he could plunder peeks at her curves. She pulled her bulky sweater on around her shoulders and turned to talk with her sisters again.

  He’d caught her looking.

  Clove had felt Abigail’s gaze. A shifter knew. It was a primal instinct, one of many that his kind were gifted with. He knew when he was being checked out, and it happened so often that by now, he didn’t need to turn to verify that yes, he was being watched. He knew when he was being watched, and usually, he didn’t care…except when Abigail watched him, he felt like an animal in a zoo, as if his polar was on display, goofing off on an ice floe.

  For a man like Clove, a man who was much more than just a man, this was uncomfortable. He was composed. He was the kind of man that controlled his appearance, not stopping at clothing or hair or even skincare, but the kind of man who read Sunbear Tzu’s Art Of War on the treadmill. As a Scoville heir, he knew he was always being watched, which meant he must always perform…but while he usually felt like an actor in a play of manners, he felt like a common busker in front of Abigail.

  Clove couldn’t resist turning to meet Abigail’s gaze. He had turned and looked at her, saw her looking at something else, but there was no way he had been wrong. He was never wrong. He followed her gaze to the mirror. Of course. There he was…and apparently, Abigail was just as uncomfortable looking at him as he was being watched.

  It was so one-sided. Here he was, dressed up, and she was practically gawking at him, wearing that big ugly sweater and trying to hide her body from him. He’d seen her before, in her cute summer outfits at the county fair, in her tight apron at the cook-off, and a pair of sweatpants couldn’t erase the image of her curves from his mind. Meanwhile, he was on display for her, trussed up like an escort, as if she were a John (a Jane?) cruising Amsterdam’s red light district, and he was leaning in one of those display cases that made the prostitutes look like dolls in boxes.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Sage quietly, looking at his brother.

  “I think I just need to get some air,” said Clove. “This house, so small, awfully stuffy…and this heat, the humidity…”

  Clove undid his tie and headed out of the room. He needed to get out of the room and away from Abigail.

  Clove walked up the stairs to the bedroom wing. His room was right there at the end of the hall. He opened the door. The room was nothing to write home about, a little less fancy than his room back in the Scoville Mansion in Oslo, but at least it was much better than the Fallowedirt Hotel, which had felt a little cramped to him. Well, it felt more than a little cramped. It felt altogether too small. He had a walk-in closet at home that was larger than his hotel room had been.

  That was the last thing he wanted to think about. It was yet another reminder of the time he’d spent here this summer. He knew he had to be happy for his brother. After all, his brother would be the next alpha of the Scoville Polar Clan, and finding his fated mate meant that there was a guarantee that the Scoville line would continue. It wasn’t like Clove had found a mate of his own yet. He’d tried, but he hadn’t been able to get that curvy woman out of his head, that woman, the one who he’d caught staring at him.

  His brother was right. The Quincy Sisters and the Scoville Brothers were going to be part of the same family and would need to get along…but that didn’t mean Clove was about to be friends with that one. After all, if he became friends with her, who knew what could happen?

  “See something you like?” teased Kai.

  “Huh?” asked Abigail. “Sorry. I’m just tired, from my thesis proposal and all.”

  “Here Kai and I are, babbling on about our time at college, and we haven’t even heard you talk about what’s going on in your life,” said Savina. “How’re things going with that proposal?”

  “It’s fine, it’s going to get accepted,” promised Abigail. “My advisor likes it. I just have to make sure the other professors in the department approve of it, so I’m putting on the finishing touches.” Abigail couldn’t help but yawn.

  “Okay, I definitely heard you yawn that time,” said Addison. “Come on. Off to bed. You’ve done enough today.”

  “But I’ve gotta hang out, and my thesis proposal—” started Abigail.

  “Zip that lip, sister. You’re going to bed,” said Addison. “Come on.”

  Addison took Abigail by the waist and led her over to Herb and Alice, who were next to three of the Scoville Brothers.

  Herb and Alice…how did an ice cold polar bear who treated business like a polar hunt or a Viking raid, and a curvy, sassy gal born and bred in Bright Star County, Texas get together? Well, it was one heck of a story, but there was no questioning that there was no separating these two. They were perfect together. Alice warmed Herb up a bit and Herbert managed to cool down Allie’s hot head. It was hard to believe that Herbert would willingly move to pretty much the middle of nowhere to run a hot sauce company with his grandfather’s rival, but it was nearly as hard to believe that Alice would wear fancy clothes and traipse around a mansion. Love changed them both, and for the better. Neither lost their inner fire or their spunk and together, they were better than they were apart.

  “Alice, I’m going to be taking Abby upstairs to take a little rest,” said Addison.

  “Oh, so soon?” said Alice, and Abigail yawned.

  “Yeah, sorry, sis,” said Abigail. “Addy’s right. I’m…ugh…” Abigail yawned again.

  “Well, you know where to find your rooms,” said Alice. “I sent you the floor plan in the email.”

  “Yeah, it didn’t include Clove’s name,” said Abigail, her free hand on her waist.

  “We thought it best to surprise you in person,” teased Alice. “Your rooms are, of course, fully furnished, and you can pick what you want to bring over from the house later this week. Hit the hay. You’re going to like your room.”

  Addison led Abigail through the massive manor. The manor had been restored by the construction company. It looked like it did in the historical pictures of the manor in the town’s small library. Even the wallpaper was a match. What was missing was decor. While some rooms had been decorated, many left something to be desired. The hallways, in particular, were noticeably bare.

  They reached the bedroom wing. There were two sets of suites on either side of the large, wide hallway and finally, at the end, there was a double set of doors, one marked “Abigail” and one marked “Clove.” The extra set of rooms must’ve been for guests, as they were unmarked.

  “Ugh, I guess Allie wasn’t kidding about plaques,” said Abigail, pulling on the metal plaque which was enclosed in a wooden frame on the door. “It’s bolted on. Got a screwdriver or some power tools?”

  “Ha-ha, real funny,” said Addison, opening the door.

  “Who said I was joking?” asked Abigail, but when she turned and saw her room, she couldn’t help but gasp.

  Alice was right. She’d made Abigail the room of her dreams. Abigail didn’t just like the room…she loved it.

  The room was done up in forest greens and other earthy colors. There were hardwood floors, in a cool dark brown, not a warm chocolatey brown. The wood was finished, but it reminded her of a frosty, chilly forest in the Pacific Northwest, the kind of place she’d only read about in magazines. Abigail and her sisters had looked at interior design, travel, and fashion magazines together and talked about what they would do if they had all the money in the world. Abigail always wanted to visit Oregon, with its forests
, mountains, and cold rocky beaches. This room made her feel like she was there.

  There was a wrought iron bed, with a black metal frame, its wooden headboard against the wall. The bed was a four poster canopy bed, but the canopy around the bed was loose, sheer and in shades of blue, dyed with screen printing technology to make it look like a cascade of water. It was like she’d be sleeping underneath a waterfall. The wall looked like it was made up of a bunch of large rocks, but on closer examination, they were patches of leather that were meant to resemble a rock wall.

  At the base of her bed was a large wooden trunk, covered with vintage travel stickers from a bygone era. On the floor was a large fake bear skin rug, which looked like a big flat teddy bear. In the corner of the room, there was a large round bay window with a large round seat that could be a bed, with bookshelves all against one wall, filled with her books from home. On the other side of the room, there was a desk set up, with a desk flanked by two other desks. The desk had her familiar old computer, but the monitor, mouse, and keyboard had been upgraded.

  “All right, let’s get you into bed,” said Addison.

  Abigail sat on the bed and looked around her room. The room was cool and dry, much more so than the parlor.

  “I think I’ll be fine,” said Abigail. “I’ll just take a few minutes to compose myself and meet you all back downstairs.”

  “You sure?” asked Addison.

  “Yeah, I’ll just take a while to rest. I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” said Abigail. “If I fall asleep now, I’ll mess up my sleep cycle.”

  “If you insist,” said Addison. “Love ya, sis.”

  “Love ya, too,” said Abigail, and Addison showed herself out.

  Abigail looked around the room. Alice really had made her the room of her dreams. She walked over to the bookcase. Her sister had carefully put her books in the bookcase in the same order they were in at the old house, complete with bookends to fill in the blank spaces in the shelves, as these cases were wider than her previous shelves.

  Abigail’s luggage had been brought up by the help (having help was still mind-boggling to Abigail) and propped up on a luggage rack. She opened the heaviest suitcase and unloaded the piles and piles of books she had into the bookcase. After all, she still had to get some work done for her proposal while she was here. She took the opportunity to quickly change into a fresh dress. Alice had stocked her closet with stuff from their old house, so Abigail picked out one of her old lounge-about dresses. She’d get changed again for dinner, but having on new loose clothes made her feel more comfortable.

  Abigail heard a sound coming from another room. She opened the first door, but it was just a bathroom (a nice bathroom, but a bathroom empty of any intruders). She opened the second door and saw the last person she wanted to see.

  Chapter Twelve

  December

  Abigail hadn’t flown first class before, but she was too anxious about her papers to enjoy the free tiramisu or unlimited mimosas. Her older sister Alice had insisted on paying for the first class flight. After all, Abigail had had the most stressful semester of her college career. The second semester was going to be even worse. The thesis proposal was accepted, but now, Abigail had to actually, y’know…write the dang thesis.

  Abigail landed in Dallas and was going to be driven back to Fallowedirt, Texas by her sister, Alice. Alice was running the family’s hot sauce company, ‘The Feminine Mesquite.’ After all, Alice was the eldest sister, and their grandfather, Elijah Quincy, had bequeathed the company to her. Alice was a year older than Abigail, so she’d already graduated and was able to stay home in Fallowedirt, running the company with her fiancé, Herbert Scoville of the Oslo Scoville Polar Clan.

  “Where is Herbert today?” asked Abigail as she loaded up the last of her suitcases into the minivan. It was the same minivan that their parents had given to Alice when they moved to Florida, the minivan that they’d had since the sisters were all young children.

  “He’s running the shop,” said Alice. “He offered to come, but I thought you might want some private girl time with your big sister.”

  Alice and Abigail got in the car and started the drive back to Bright Star County. It was winter in Texas, slightly chilly with a sprinkling of rain, but no snow.

  “I can’t believe this semester is over,” said Abigail. “It was a wild ride, I’ll tell you that much.”

  “And your proposal was accepted, right?” said Alice. “You weren’t just telling me that to get me off your back, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it got accepted,” said Abigail. “But now, I have to get it written.”

  “Do you think you wanna start over your break?” said Alice. “After all, you got out a full two weeks before your little sisters get out of their colleges. The house shouldn’t be too busy. It’ll be really quiet. Herbert and I are busy with things at the store.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s been going on?” asked Abigail.

  “Well, we had to get the shop up to code,” said Alice. “We got all new kitchen equipment, too.”

  “Are you still individually bottling the sauces?” asked Abigail.

  “That’s right, based on grandpa’s recipes,” said Alice. “The Secret Sauce, the jalapeño sauce that nearly won us the cook-off, is flying off the walls, but we’re trying to develop a fire-roasted habanero sauce next.”

  “Really?” asked Abigail. “That sounds awesome!”

  “Well…so far, it’s not a success,” admitted Alice. “Grandpa’s recipes…well, it turns out that the secret sauce was the only one that he taught us to make. That’s why I can make it blindfolded with a hand tied behind my back. But, the other sauces, well, he didn’t exactly provide great instructions on how to make the sauces. There are instructions like, ‘add a splash of vinegar,’ but what the heck is a splash? What is a ‘handful’ of habaneros? We’ve been spending long hours in the kitchen trying to figure this all out.”

  “Didn’t Herb’s grandpa say he made the recipes up in the first place?” asked Abigail. “Why doesn’t Herb ask him for help?”

  “Have you met Herb? He’s not about to let his grandpa know he needs any help, no frikkin’ way,” said Alice. “It gives us a challenge, which is nice. But, it means we’re at the store a lot, which means we’ll be leaving you at home, alone…unless you wanna come over and study at the store?”

  “Trust me, I can take care of myself,” promised Abigail. “I don’t need babysitting.”

  “Good,” said Alice. “Because if you want, you can invite your boyfriend over. You and Jason got back together, right?”

  “Yeah…but we broke up again,” said Abigail. “It’s always like this. He breaks up with me to ‘find himself’ for winter break…and for spring break…and for summer break. Then he comes crawling back once he catches a glimpse of my curves from across the quad. This time, I dumped him, right before fall break. I’m not about to let him mess with my thesis. Remember I got that B in French because he dumped me when I was about to take the final?”

  “So you’re single again?” asked Alice. “I hope you don’t get too lonely over the next two weeks. None of the Scovilles are coming over break. They have to work at their grandpa’s companies this winter because they promised to do that before, well, Herb and I became a thing.”

  “So we Quincy Sisters do all the work?” asked Abigail.

  “We keep all the money, remember?” asked Alice. “Herb promised that. He’s just getting the CEO experience to prove to his dad and grandpa that he can run the Scoville companies when they retire. You know how shifter men are, don’t you?”

  “Not really,” admitted Abigail.

  “Well, when the Scovilles come help us over spring and summer breaks, you’ll learn,” said Alice. “Now, you didn’t eat on that plane, did you?”

  “First class had good food, but small portions,” said Abigail.

  “Then we’re making a pit stop before we go home,” said Alice. “Burgers and sweet tea it is. Welcome
back home, babydoll!”

  When the pair pulled into the long driveway to Mesquite Manor, Abigail noticed a shiny pickup truck was already parked near the entrance.

  “Did Herb get a pickup?” asked Abigail.

  “You better believe it,” said Alice. “But don’t worry…I made him buy American.”

  “Good,” said Abigail. “Don’t mess with America.”

  Abigail opened the trunk, but before she could get her luggage out, Herb was at her side.

  “Hey, let me grab that,” said Herbert, grabbing the two heaviest bags.

  Abigail looked over Herb. Where the heck were the designer suits, slim cut, and European? He was wearing a white shirt, stained with red and green and brown streaks that must be from sauce. His jeans were typical Texas dad jeans, and he was wearing a pair of worn sneakers.

  “Thanks,” said Abigail, grabbing the last bag, a light duffle, and following Herb to her room. Alice opened the doors for them along the way.

  “Now, you let us know if there is anything we can do to make you more at home,” said Herb. “Remember, this is your home, too. If you want any changes made, you let us know, and we’ll make them happen.”

  “Wow, Alice, you taught him well,” said Abigail, looking to her sister. “He’s got that Southern hospitality and charm down pat. You’re not half bad, Herb. I promise I’ll let you know if I need anything at all.”

  Herb and Alice started to leave, but Abigail called out to them.

  “Hey!” said Abigail, and they turned. “Sorry, real fast…what’s the deal with the shared room?”

  “It’s yours to do what you like with,” said Herbert. “The other brothers are back in Norway for the winter, so you don’t have to share the room this month. Clove might have some ideas about what to do with the room, but, well, I don’t see him around, do you?”

  “Got it, thanks!” said Abigail, before closing the door.

  She leaned back against the door. Clove. Why did Herbert have to say his name? She knew it wasn’t his fault she was feeling this way, her stomach churning. After all, he didn’t know what had gone on between Abby and his brother. It didn’t stop Abby’s belly from twisting. Clove.