“F-fuck, that was c-cold,” Dallas whispers to Shelby, who’s shaking her head at the idiot.
They both sit down, Dallas as close to the fire as he can get without burning himself. The game continues and so does the drinking. At one point, Shelby catches Houston watching her from across the fire. She narrows her eyes. Houston looks pointedly at Dallas and the way his arm is draped around Shelby’s shoulders. She makes a funny face, as if to blow off the whole thing. Everyone knows how affectionate Dallas is with everybody, but especially her since her parents died in a tragic car accident.
Houston suddenly speaks, cutting in line when it isn’t his turn. “I’ve got one. Shelby, truth or dare?”
Shelby feels all eyes shift in her direction. A tingle of warning slides up her spine. She doesn’t like the seriousness of Houston’s gaze. He looks so much like Dallas, but there’s no easy humor with him. He’s always so damn dead intense.
Normally, Shelby would choose truth. But not now. Not with Houston looking back and forth between her and Dallas. She will never, not ever, confess to having a crush on her best friend. She’d rather strip naked and slide into that icy river never to get out again than tell her truth.
“Dare,” she answers more confidently than she feels.
Houston grins, and her blood runs cold. “I dare you to kiss my brother.”
Shelby’s cheeks flame hot, and she can’t blame it on the bonfire. She knows in an instant that she needs to put on the performance of a lifetime to get out of this with any dignity. Josie Mae slaps Houston’s arm, but the challenge has already been issued.
Shelby stands confidently, even flips her hair over her shoulder. She narrows her eyes at Houston, but when she turns to face Dallas, he smirks just like he always does. If he can act like nothing is serious, so can she. She plops herself right down on Dallas’s lap and loops her arms around his neck. His eyes go wide, probably stunned she’s going through with the dare.
Shelby plucks the cowboy hat off Dallas’s head and holds it so that no one can see her kissing Dallas on his cheek. The hand holding the hat has a single digit extended. Her middle finger.
The teens laugh and jeer, thinking she flipped off Houston and kissed Dallas. Only she and Dallas know their lips never touched.
“Thank god. I was worried for a second,” Dallas whispers, then tosses his head back and laughs.
Shelby joins in, but her heart’s not in it.
And when she sits back down, Houston is still studying her.
Early Twenties
“This is seriously the dumbest pose you’ve ever had us do, and there have been a lot of dumbass poses!”
Shelby climbs onto Dallas’s back as he creates a steady base on the ground on all fours like he’s giving a horsy ride to a toddler. Except he’s in leather chaps with a fake rifle lying next to his hands, and Shelby’s in a barmaid outfit with layers and layers of lacy ruffles.
“For what it’s worth, the camera loves it. You two might be the poster for the Knockers County Fair next year,” says the hippie photographer with the low ponytail. He waggles his eyebrows and both Shelby and Dallas crack up.
They collect themselves and pose with matching serious expressions, Shelby riding Dallas’s back with her feet flared out to the side, showing her ankles. The camera flashes repeatedly, capturing the cheesy western moment in all its sepia glory.
“Hey, at least our tradition isn’t Glamour Shots,” Dallas says wryly as Shelby climbs off his back.
Shelby grins and checks that her boobs are still inside the barmaid costume. “Are we done here, Dally?”
“I have an idea!” the photographer calls out. He looks excited, which doesn’t bode well for Dallas and Shelby. “I got a new sheepskin rug.”
Shelby makes a slicing motion across her throat behind the photographer’s back, but Dallas loves shenanigans more than he fears his best friend’s wrath. With Dallas sitting on a hay bale, the rifle propped against his hip, and Shelby on her side on the sheepskin, her torso draped across Dallas’s legs, the photographer is finally satisfied. Her neck is craned back so she can stare into her friend’s twinkling brown eyes, while her long hair rests on her impressive cleavage as it tests the boundaries of the costume.
“Perfect!” the photographer calls out, snapping picture after picture. “Now sink your fingers into her hair like you can’t spend another moment without touching her.”
Dallas’s lips quirk into a laugh, but he reins it in. His fingers lightly trail across Shelby’s soft skin before delving into her hair. He has to bite back a moan as he grips her hair with his strong fingers. Shelby’s so close to him now, they’re sharing the same air. They stare into each other’s eyes, forgetting for a moment that anyone else is in the tent with them. His fingers flex, kneading across her scalp. Shelby’s eyes flutter shut, and he can feel her full body shiver. His nose slides against hers, and he forgets to breathe. Heat licks at his skin. If Dallas doesn’t release her soon, he fears he’ll cross a line by grabbing her and kissing her.
His head shifts, his lips grazing her cheek toward the corner of her mouth. For one heady moment, he thinks she might just welcome his kiss. That all these years of friendship could lead to something a little different. Like, friends with benefits.
“Is this like one of those soft porn photoshoots?”
Jeremy’s obnoxious voice has Dallas and Shelby jumping apart. Shelby flutters her eyes open to see their group of friends barging into the photo booth.
“Come on, it’s our turn!” Josie Mae and Jeremy, now married, start flipping through the rack of costumes. “You two look like my grandma’s romance novel covers!”
Dallas clears his throat and stands, offering his hand to help Shelby up. She pulls on the bodice of the dress, trying to cover up her cleavage, to no avail.
