There wasn’t much I could do except keep pretending I was pretending—keep acting like I was into her so we could put on a show for her family and not because I was actually into her. For the hundredth time since all this started, I wished I could go back and do everything differently.
If I’d come clean that first night about who I was, we maybe could have seen where this was going to go between us. But as it was, I was fairly certain Zara was going to flay me alive when she found out the truth. Not that I blamed her, but it made being honest with her a little bit more difficult to stomach. And not only because I was afraid of what she’d do to me but because I knew I’d lose her afterward.
Letting out a deep sigh, I gave myself one more look in the mirror. There wasn’t anything I could do about any of it this weekend. I’d promised I’d help her out, so that was what I’d focus on. Everything else could be worried about later.
I sat down on the bed and texted Corey that we’d made it up here. His reply came less than a minute later.
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… Like pretend to be your twin brother and get dragged into an awkward family reunion.
He really was a dick, and I told him so before shutting off my phone and sliding it into my pocket.
Zara came back into the room and dressed without initiating any conversation. She pulled a long-sleeved blue blouse over her head and turned to me. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She smiled at that, ran a hand through her hair, and opened the bedroom door. I followed her downstairs, where everyone was milling around. There were a few more family members there than I’d met earlier, so I was introduced to them, and we all made small talk until dinner was ready.
A bell rang behind me, and I jumped, grabbing on to Zara’s arm like I was going to have to pull her away from the porcelain doll zombie apocalypse. “What the hell?” I muttered.
There was a tap on my ass that had me spinning around, bringing me face-to-face with Meemaw.
“Just a dinner bell. You need stronger nerves if you’re going to make it around here.”
My pulse felt like it was going to shoot out of my neck, but I managed a weak smile. “I’ll work on strengthening them before the next alarm goes off.”
Giving Zara a smirk, she said, “I like him.”
Zara threaded her arm through mine. “Me too.”
Meemaw nodded and continued on her way into the dining room.
“Sorry about that,” Zara said. “I forgot where we were standing.”
“In front of Quasimodo’s bell tower?”
She laughed. “Such a baby,” she muttered as she pulled me into the dining room.
A hodgepodge of dishes, from baked chicken to sausage to mashed potatoes to applesauce, were set up in the center of a long wood table.
“No one wanted to go to a lot of trouble since we have the party tomorrow, so everyone who lives close made something and brought it over,” Zara explained.
“Looks amazing.” And it did.
“One thing my family can do is cook,” she replied.
“So your cooking talent is a genetic gift, huh?” I asked with a teasing lilt in my voice.
Zara shrugged, not appearing to appreciate the joke. “Depends on who you ask.”
We looked for two open chairs that were together, and the only ones I saw were near her parents, a fact Zara must have also noticed. She was staring directly at them and took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before moving in that direction.
As we approached them, I realized I’d talked to almost all of Zara’s relatives but had only exchanged a few brief words with her immediate family. Was Zara intentionally keeping me at a distance from them, or was it just a coincidence?
Zara slid into a chair beside her mom, and I took the one on Zara’s other side. Immediately I was passed a plate of macaroni and cheese, and when I only took a small spoonful, I was yelled at to take more by at least three different family members. These were definitely my kind of people.
“So, CJ,” Jane began. “We’re so glad you could join us this weekend. Zara never brings anyone to family functions. We’re not even sure she’s had a boyfriend before.” Jane chuckled at her words, but I heard Zara inhale deeply beside me.
“Thank you for inviting me. I’m happy to be here, if for no other reason than to enjoy this amazing food,” I said, only half joking.
“Our family always puts on quite the spread,” Jane said with a smile.
I gently elbowed Zara in the side. “How come you’ve never cooked a meal like this for me?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Zara opened her mouth to reply, but her mom’s words cut her off. “Don’t feel bad, CJ. She’s never cooked for us either.”
“You’ve never let me cook for you,” Zara corrected, her tone acidic.
I’d evidently walked us right into a conversational landmine.
Jane tsked. “That’s nonsense. There’s nothing stopping you from inviting us over for a meal. If I didn’t take it upon myself to drop in from time to time, I’d never see your place at all.” Her mother resumed eating as if her daughter weren’t stewing beside her.
Searching for a change in conversation, I turned toward Zara’s dad. “Mr. Pierce, Zara tells me you’re a fisherman. What do you like to fish for?”
Her dad put his fork down and focused on me, which I took as a good sign. “I enjoy the act of fishing, so the catch isn’t overly important to me. But Devon and I took a trip last year to catch tuna. That was a fabulous trip, wasn’t it, Devon?”
Zara’s brother-in-law looked up, startled, as if he hadn’t been expecting anyone to speak to him. “Yes, yes, a great trip, yes,” he said as he nodded before resuming eating.
Note to self: stay clear of Devon. I cut my eyes over to Zara and saw her fighting back a laugh, which of course threatened to make me laugh as well.
“Do you fish?” Mr. Pierce asked, which made me realize the flaw in asking him about this topic.
“I don’t, actually. My dad took me and my brother a couple of times when we were young, but I haven’t been in years.”
Mr. Pierce’s expression grew tight. It was as if I’d handed him a PETA flier on the harms of recreational fishing. “That’s a shame. Your father probably enjoyed taking you boys out. I know I would’ve if I’d had a son.”
And didn’t that make me feel like a shitty son. Christ.
“Daughters are capable of fishing,” Zara interjected.
“Some daughters, maybe,” Mr. Pierce said, his tone clearly conveying that he didn’t have two such daughters.
“Fishing looks mind-numbingly boring,” Zara’s sister said.
“See?” Mr. Pierce asked.
“I would’ve gone. I’d still go. If you ever asked.” Zara was pushing food around on her plate as she spoke, and it made me want to teleport us out of there.
“Why do you always need to be asked?” her mom said. “If you want something, say something.”
“Fine.” Zara looked at her dad. “Next time you go fishing, I’d like to come.”
He picked up his fork. “We’ll see.”
“That was effective,” Zara grumbled, but no one responded.
I wanted to shove the mac and cheese in his mouth so he couldn’t talk anymore. Reaching under the table, I gave her leg a squeeze. She put her hand over mine and squeezed back.
Not much else was said for the remainder of dinner or dessert, and we made a hasty retreat after the plates had been cleared, claiming exhaustion. Once inside the room, Zara closed the door and leaned back against it. “They drive me crazy.”
I hadn’t been able to offer much comfort during dinner, but I could now. I walked to her and crowded her against the door. “Want me to make you crazy in a good way?”
She slid her arms around my waist. “God, yes.”
So I did.
Chapter Fourteen
Zara
“You gonna start running or what?” I turned aro
und to look back at CJ, who was at least fifteen feet behind me. It had been a few years since I’d jogged around my grandparents’ land, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
“What’s going on here? You hustle me at the gym that day?”
“Maybe.” I smiled, but the joy came more from being here than it did from showing CJ that I wasn’t as out of shape as he’d originally thought. Something about being here gave me a renewed energy I hadn’t felt in a while. I always loved coming here for Thanksgiving every other year, and though it was winter now, today brought me back. The crisp, fresh air, the leaves crunching under our feet as we ran, the smell of…well, horse shit… It all triggered memories of a simpler time.
With a quick sprint, CJ caught up to me, wrapping his arms around me so I could barely move. His body enveloped mine, making me feel smaller, more vulnerable. He kissed me on the top of my head before releasing me and taking off up the hill toward the houses. “You gonna start running or what?” he called back to me.
“You’re such a cheater!”
He turned around and laughed and gave a little shrug. “If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’.” Then he headed for the house and didn’t look back until he arrived.
I slowed to a walk a few seconds later for a cooldown. By the time I arrived at the house, CJ was sitting on the porch with a cup of something hot between his hands. “Meemaw made hot chocolate and oatmeal cookies. You want some?”
Not bothering to comment on his use of the name Meemaw, I took a swig from the water bottle I’d left on the porch railing. “We just went for a run. I can’t ruin it with cookies. Plus, those oatmeal cookies are usually for the kids.”
“They’re for anyone who wants a taste,” Grandma called from inside the house. How the hell had she even heard us?
“You tell her, Meemaw,” CJ yelled back. He was grinning from ear to ear, and I couldn’t be sure if it was from the cookie he’d just eaten or the fact that he and Meemaw were somehow besties now.
Unable to resist, I put a hand on his chest and leaned up to kiss him. There was no heat to it—just an innocent peck on the lips that felt more comfortable than sexual.
“What was that for?” he asked, a small smile spreading over his lips after I pulled mine away.
What was that for? I gave him a quick shrug. “Gotta keep up appearances.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him, turning an innocent moment into one that made me hungry for him. I let out a soft groan when he kissed my neck. The salt from his sweat mixed with the subtle scent of his soap created an aroma that was all man—clean and masculine and CJ.
“How much time do we have ’til we have to get ready for the party?” His voice was raspy in my ear, and it did things to me I shouldn’t be feeling on my grandparents’ porch.
I looked at my watch. “Probably not enough. We both need to get showered and be there in less than two hours.”
“I can be fast.”
Laughing, I pulled back to look at him. “Such a sweet talker,” I joked. “After the party, we’ll have all night.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be.”
COLTON
Once I was showered and shaved, I put on dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a fitted maroon sweater. I pushed the sleeves up to just below my elbows, rubbed a styling paste between my fingers, and messed with my hair until it sat how I wanted. It was still longer on top, but I’d just gotten it cut before we left, so the sides were clipped short the way I liked.
I felt for the chain around my neck and adjusted it to make sure the clasp was in the back. Then I put on a small amount of cologne—just enough for Zara to smell if she was close—and headed back into our room. “How do I look?”
She was still in her towel, and the thought of what was underneath had me wanting to remove all the clothes I’d just put on—dolls be damned. “Like you should be a model and not an accountant,” she answered, her eyes roaming over my body in a way that made me physically feel her gaze.
It was moments like these that made me wonder why I chose to wear fitted jeans around her. They didn’t leave much room for my cock to expand, and right now I could feel it doing just that, pressing hard against my pants as it searched for space it wasn’t going to find.
“I’m not exactly an accountant,” I said, wishing she hadn’t interpreted my description of Corey’s job that way. I took comfort in the fact that denying the job title was technically the truth. “That makes me sound way nerdier than I am.”
“Nerdy’s good,” she said. “I think it’s a turn-on.”
“Mmm, well, in that case,” I said, bringing a finger to my lips in thought, “I forgot to tell you about my coin collection.”
“Oh yeah?” she said, moving closer to me but not close enough for me to touch. “What about it?”
“I have an Indian head penny from 1892.”
She licked her lips. “What else?”
I lowered my voice, making it deep and gravelly. “Quarters from every state in the continental US.”
“What happened to Alaska and Hawaii?” she asked, taking another step toward me.
“Guess I just never got around to getting them. But one day, I hope to complete the collection.”
“So hot,” she breathed, and then she bit her lip, pulling on it a bit before finally releasing it.
Clearing my throat, I said, “You should probably get ready so we’re on time for the party. I don’t want to have to explain what we were doing that made us late to something that’s on your grandparents’ property. Especially with how long it took us to get down to dinner last night.”
She rubbed a hand over my chest and down my abs. “You’re very punctual.”
“Gotta make a good impression.”
She moved close, and we wrapped our arms around each other.
She looked up and smiled. “I think you already have.”
Chapter Fifteen
Colton
Walking up to the renovated barn, I put a hand on Zara’s lower back. “You look beautiful, you know. That dress…” I leaned back a bit to look at her from behind. The fact that it was long-sleeved didn’t make it any less sexy. The black-and-white stretchy fabric scooped down to her mid-back and hugged her ass tighter than I would’ve thought she’d want her family to see.
“What about it?”
“I wanna take it off you.”
She laughed and slapped my hand away when it dropped down to her ass. “Well, you’ll have to wait until after the party for that, I’m afraid.”
“What?” I said, acting surprised. “You mean you don’t want me to strip you naked in front of your entire family?”
I chuckled when she seemed to consider it for a minute.
“I’d mind it less than they probably would. And my grandfather hunts, so there are definitely a few guns on the property.”
“Noted,” I said before pulling open the door for her. I’d never been in a venue like this before, but Zara hadn’t been kidding when she’d said the party wasn’t in a barn. I mean, technically it was a barn, but it didn’t appear that way.
The massive building seemed even larger once inside. The high-vaulted ceilings had wooden crossbeams that matched the dark wood planks of the floor, and there was a second-floor loft space that wrapped around three of the walls so people could look down at the dance floor from above. Against the back wall, there was a small bar that matched the rustic decor of the barn—wood with stone accents.
After seeing the inside, I understood why so many couples chose to rent out the space for their wedding receptions. Not that I’d ever considered what might make a good venue for such an event because I never intended to have a wedding of my own. But I’d been to enough weddings to know what constituted a nice place.
“This place is awesome,” I said. “It would make a cool home. I saw something like this on one of those house-flipping shows.”
�
��You like working with your hands, CJ?” a voice asked from behind us.
I turned around to see Zara’s dad, and I silently prayed he hadn’t heard me talking about getting his daughter naked. “Here and there. If it has an engine, I’m good. I’m not sure any of it would come in handy for house flipping, though.”
“You work on cars?” Mr. Pierce asked.
“Motorcycles, actually.”
“CJ and his brother own a custom bike shop together.”
“Is that right?” Mr. Pierce looked genuinely interested, which saddened me as I remembered I wasn’t supposed to know much about the ins and outs of the actual fabrication. When would I learn to think before I spoke? According to Zara, I was the accountant. Images of Zara’s dad and grandfather chasing me around the premises with a rifle after lying to their baby girl had my heart skipping beats and me trying to cover my slipup.
“Yeah, CJ Cycles. My brother does most of the actual design and assembly, though. I’m more on the financial side of things.”
“I’ve always wanted to get a bike,” Mr. Pierce said. “Maybe we should talk.”
Jane, who must’ve been in earshot, appeared beside her husband and put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Or maybe you should give up your deathtrap dream once and for all. You know those things terrify me.”
Zara’s dad rolled his eyes good-naturedly and sighed. “Happy wife, happy life, I guess,” he said with a wink at me and then pointed to the food. “Well, we’re headed that way. We’ll be at a table by the bar if you want to join us.”
“Sure,” I said, thankful the conversation hadn’t gone further than it did.
Zara introduced me to a few more of her cousins who lived in the area and had just come for the night to go to the party. It was an interesting mix of characters, to say the least. Jane’s older brother, Grant, was there with his new wife, Rylie.
“How old is she?” I asked once they were out of earshot. I felt like an asshole for asking, but I had to know.
Misadventures with a Twin Page 10
