Oh, right, he’s acting.
I growl at him and give him the finger behind Will’s back.
“There they are with the tree.” Will points toward the two snowmobiles puttering toward us. “We beat them back, because I let Sammie drive.”
“Young lady, what did I tell you about driving without permission?” Braden gives me a side-eye as he walks over and rights the overturned snowmobile.
“You jealous or what?” I sidle up to him and jut my lower lip at him.
“Why should I be? I’m much bigger than him.” He tilts his chin at Will.
I hook my arm around Will’s waist and point him toward Susanna who is hauling the tree with a sled. “Come on, big boy. Let’s haul that tree back into the ranch house.”
“I can get it.” Braden rushes toward Susanna, but Will also strides the same direction.
There they go again. Competing for little ol’ me.
Abbie, who was riding with Susanna, gets off the snowmobile and runs to her mother. “Mommy. I want to shoot the tree next time.”
“Will is older than you,” she says. “Did you have fun picking out the tree?”
Abbie points to me. “Will let her pick. Why does he always get to boss me around? And you know what, Mommy? They were kissing all yucky.”
Lindsay’s glare at me isn’t one hundred percent friendly. I wonder why. Does she have something against Braden, or is it because Will is always flirting?
I decide to be brave and walk up to them. “Abbie, want to do Rubik’s cube? I can show you a trick.”
“You can? I can only get two sides.” Abbie follows me toward the house. “Do you really like my brother?”
“Yeah. He’s really cool.” I look away from Lindsay who seems to be scrutinizing me. I hope I didn’t sprout any wrinkles or white hair on the harrowing snowmobile ride.
“He has a lot of girlfriends,” Abbie warns. “One for every activity.”
“Oh, really? Like who?” I walk off with Abbie, aware of Lindsay a few steps back.
“There’s Sarah in the band, and Melissa in drama class. Nanette at the restaurant he works at, and Deanna from church.”
“Then I must be his Christmas girlfriend.” I put my hand over my mouth. “Does he kiss them all?”
She crosses her arms and looks resolute as she nods firmly. “He does, and it’s yucky. He gets lipstick all over his face. Ewwww!”
I can’t help giggling, but when I catch Lindsay looking at me, I realize I have to pretend to be upset.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say in a sad voice. “Maybe he doesn’t really like me after all.”
“Told ya!” she says. “You should kick him in the balls.”
“Hey, watch the language,” Lindsay cuts in and turns to me. “I mean, sorry. Abbie shouldn’t gossip.”
I almost say it’s okay but catch myself. They’re expecting me to play hard to get. That’s what an angry teenage girl would do, right?
Unable to figure out a response, I look down at my feet and run off toward the house, like my feelings are hurt.
My ruse works, because Lindsay scolds Abbie and tells her she shouldn’t say such things about her brother, but at the same time, I can hear the pride in her voice at having such a young womanizer for a son.
Eye roll!
Jolene greets us with steamy bowls of fish chowder for lunch with crusty French bread and a green salad. She’s such a cheerful person, but I notice her husband, my supposed grandfather, Wes, isn’t as happy. He greets me stiffly, and I wonder what they discussed about Poppy.
