“You seem to forget that we’re twins, Gray, I was also seven years old, but I didn’t run crying to mom.”
“I’ll never forget you running to find me in the house,” his mom adds. “He was so mad at Theo.”
Their dad tries to hide his laughter behind his hand, but it’s no use. Soon, everyone in the room is chuckling, even Grayson. I lean my body to the side, playfully bumping my head against Grayson’s shoulder. “Sorry, I had to.”
“Trouble,” he murmurs, so low that only I can hear.
His burning gaze is back. The same intense gaze he wore in the barn when he had me pressed up against the wall. My body heats, and I reach for my glass of water, taking a long sip as most everyone resumes eating.
“Wait…” I set my glass of water down next to my plate. “Did you say you’re twins?” I look from Theo to Grayson, and back again. They are roughly the same height and boast the trademark Hart family crystal-blue eyes, but that seems to be where the similarities end.
“We’re twins, not identical, obviously,” Grayson says. “I’m technically six minutes older than him, so he should have some damn respect for the eldest brother.”
Theo cackles from across the table. “Maybe it’s payback for stealing all the space in the womb. Grayson was born a tank and I was a puny little thing.”
“Now, now,” his mom interrupts. “You were both the most perfect boys ever, just in your own way.”
I bring my glass to my lips to hide my smile. Her answer is a classic mother's answer. Theo is tall like Grayson, but definitely more slender. He’s strong, muscular, and conventionally very attractive, but when I look at the man sitting next to me, my attraction to him is something that almost can’t be put into words.
“So, where’s Harper?” I ask, begging for a change of subject.
“She's at work,” Grayson responds. “She bartends downtown at the local bar Wednesday through Saturday.” I nod my head in understanding, then Grayson's dad pipes up.
“I really wish she'd find something more responsible to do with her time.”
“Responsible?” Grayson questions. “I know bartending isn't your ideal job, Dad, but Harper is a social butterfly. It's the perfect place for her to be able to talk as much as she wants and listen to music as loud as she wants. She pays her own bills, doesn’t have any debt—I don’t really see the problem.”
“The problem is she's twenty-three years old and doesn't have a savings account or a plan for her future.”
“I get that,” Grayson says, and I can feel his entire body tense alongside mine with the need to defend his sister. He chooses his words carefully, tactfully, which is something I’ve come to notice about him. “But she's alsoonlytwenty-three. She has her whole life ahead of her.”
“Yeah,” Theo pipes up. “I mean, Lukas is twenty-seven, he's kind of a loser, and you don't nag on him.”
Lukas tosses a dinner roll at Theo who catches it with a laugh, and tosses it back, hitting him square in the chest.
“Now, you boys settle,” Grayson's mom says, rolling her eyes with affection. She leans into me and asks, “Holly,do you have any brothers? Tell me it’s not just my boys and that all boys are this obnoxious.”
I laugh, shaking my head at the two men at the end of the table still bugging each other. “I'm an only child,” I respond. “My parents aren’t close with their siblings, or their parents, really, so it was just the three of us growing up.” I continue my story, despite the awkwardness that’s suddenly blanketed the room. “Seeing everyone here together is different,” I tell her honestly. “But I really like it. I love how loud it is, how everyone worries about the other, and how everyone seems to be in each other's business.”
“Holly,” Grayson's dad calls over to me as he reaches for the salt and pepper shakers. “I hope you'll be joining the family at Corn Fest this year.”
I furrow my brow, looking over at Grayson for an explanation. “What's Corn Fest?”
“It's where a bunch of hillbillies get together and celebrate corn, city girl,” Lukas snaps through gritted teeth. “I thought the name would’ve given it away.”
Grayson drops his fork, letting it clamor against the edge of his plate. His back stiffens as he stares at Lukas. The rest of the family follows suit, and Lukas has the audacity to shrug, as if he isn’t being a complete ass to me.
After a few beats of silence, everyone slowly continues eating. Grayson is the last to pick up his fork, scooping a large bite of mashed potatoes onto it. “It’s an annual festival that Copper Ridge hosts. Some of it is what it sounds like; we have a three-day weekend to celebrate the corn harvest. It ends up being a pretty big turnout for our small town. People come from all over and there are different recipes of corn to try. There's also a little carnival with games, vendors that sell crafts, music at the pavilion, and fireworks once night falls. It's your basic small-town festival, and I was going to ask you to it,” he trails off, looking pointedly at his dad and grandpa. “If my meddling family hadn't brought it up first. If you're off that weekend, or any of the days, I would love for you to make the trip down.”
I tilt my head down to try to cover the blush that I know is blooming on my cheeks. “When is it?”
“Second week in July,” Grayson’s grandma pipes up, and I smile politely at her. “Did Grayson tell you he used to participate in the tractor pull? He still holds the town record; set it when he was only nineteen years old.”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, knowing that my next question will give Lukas fuel for the fire. “What’s a tractor pull?”
Grayson’s head flicks down to the end of the table, likely giving Lukas a stern reminder to keep his mouth shut.
“It’s a competition for trucks and tractors,” he says, turning back toward me. “Participants can modify their engine or tractor abilities, and it’s a competition to see whose tractor can pull a weighted sled the furthest.”
