My interactions with him might have been bearable if August treated me with the same effortless charm he oozes on others, but he never has. When it’s between us, he’s stoic and distant, and I feel reduced to nothing more than a commercial interrupting his favorite game.
Only something strange is happening. He’s gawking too. As if I’m an alien that’s just landed and he’s not quite sure if he should wave a white flag or run for weapons.
Even more odd? His reaction makes something snap deep inside of me. Suddenly, I don’t feel tongue-tied anymore.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
August swallows hard, the line of his brows drawing together. “No. Uh... No.”
“Okay, then.” I gesture toward the entrance hall. “May I come in?”
He starts as though pinched. “What? Yeah. Sure. Sorry.”
Maybe I turned my car in the wrong direction a ways back and somehow unknowingly entered a parallel universe. That’s the only reason I can account for Mr. Rizz himself stumbling over his words and jerking back like he’s lost coordination. Hell, did he have a bad hit and get a concussion?
Craning my neck so I can study his eyes for dilated pupils, I ask him, “Are you all right?”
At that, August scowls, looking a bit more like himself. “Of course.” Then, as if it occurs to him that he’s acting strange, he sighs expansively and shakes his head. “Rough week. Sorry, Penelope.”
The image of him gyrating on a wobbly table fills my head. I bite my lip and glance away. Not before I see him flush again. He takes a bigger step back, and, when I ease past him, closes the door with a little more force than necessary.
“So . . . Penelope.” That’s all he says.
I nod gravely. “August.”
“Penelope.”
We’re back to that again?
As though reading my mind, he huffs, the corner of his mouth starts to curl.
“Augie? Did I hear the door...” Margo walks into the hall by way of the kitchen. She sees me and breaks into a beaming smile. “Penny!”
Before I can say a word, I’m enveloped in a wall of cool silk, warm bosom, and strong arms. Margo squeezes me tight and rocks a bit. It’s like being a kid again, but I don’t mind.
“It’s been so long,” she says, still hugging me.
I saw Margo at Mom’s place a few months ago, but I smile against her breasts—it’s a miracle I can breathe—and manage a muffled, “Missed you too. Happy birthday, Auntie Margo.” Her birthday was yesterday, but I didn’t want to intrude on the family then. Mom, however, ordered me to “get my butt over there” and wish her well, “pronto!”
Apparently, Mom’s insistence was valid because Margo squeezes me tighter and utters a weepy sounding, “Thank you!”
Aunt Margo isn’t really my aunt. She’s Mom’s best friend and college roommate. But we kids gave our mom’s friend the honorific of aunt. She’s also half a foot taller than me and loves hugs that last forever.
“You’re gonna make her tinkle,” says a deep voice.
I pull back, and Margo and I glare at August’s brother, March, as he saunters into the hallway. A year younger than August, he might as well be his twin. Except, where August is sternly handsome, March has a sunnier expression. Which is kind of odd, given that August, until this bizarre hall incident, has always been just as charismatic.
The main difference—and it’s a huge one—is that March never treated me like I was invisible. Something I appreciated so much in my youth that Imighthave had a bit of a crush on him during high school—well, for about a week, anyway.
“Stop teasing Pen,” Margo chides. “You know she doesn’t like it.”
“Pretty sure she loves it, Ma.”
I punch his arm right before he gives me a bear hug as well.
“I’ll teaseyou,” is my very witty threat, also muffled against yet another chest. This one broad and solid as a brick wall.
He laughs and sets me back. There’s a twinkle in his eye that I don’t entirely trust. “Promise?”
