Boone’s examining his gross goat-slobber belt again, holding it up to the light like it’s some kind of artifact. He’s oblivious to the tension crackling between Jesse and me. “You think this’ll wash out?”
“Just throw it away,” I tell him, grateful for the distraction. “Buy a new one. Or take one of mine.”
“Callie said she’d buy me a new one. But this one’s got character now. Plus, it smells like her perfume mixed with goat.”
And there it is. Even Boone noticed her scent.
“Don’t expect a Thompson to make good on their word. You know how they are.”
“I wouldn’t say that about Callie. She seems decent. Solid. Not a lunatic like her old man. Plus, did you see the way she bent over to?—”
“Boone.” My warning comes out as more of a growl, and both my brothers look at me with raised eyebrows.
“What? I’m just saying she’s flexible.”
Jesse laughs. “Very flexible. Wonder what else she’s flexible about.”
His words plant quite the image in my head, of Callie beneath me, back arched, legs wrapped. I almost stumble over my feet but catch myself. Unfortunately, Jesse notices.
“Careful there, Brother. Wouldn’t want you to fall.”
“Shut up.”
We head back to the house, but I can’t shake the feeling that something just shifted. Something that’s going to cause problems for all of us. My skin still feels weird, like I need to either hit something or find a cold shower. Maybe both.
Dad’s waiting for us on the front porch, his arms crossed and his expression dark. Dean McCoy doesn’t miss much, and he definitely doesn’t miss his sons talking to Thompson women. Or the way we’re all walking a little stiffly, trying to hide our erections.
“You boys want to explain what just happened out there?”
“Rita got loose,” Jesse says with a shrug, but I notice he’s keeping his hands in his pockets. “We helped untangle her. Good deed for the day.”
“That wasn’t a good deed, that was a mistake.” Dad’s voice is sharp enough to cut. “And if I see any of you near that Thompson girl again, you’ll regret it.”
“Dad—” Boone starts.
“No.” Dad cuts him off. “I mean it. The Thompsons are nothing but trouble, and that girl’s the worst of them. You saw what her goat did today. You think she’s any different? Girls like that, they use what they’ve got to cause problems. To divide families.”
Heat rises in my chest, not the good kind from earlier but something darker. Protective.
“She’s not trash,” I say before I can stop myself.
Dad’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Just... she’s not trash.”
“She’s a Thompson. Same thing. And from the wayyou’re all acting, she’s already got her hooks in you. That’s what women like her do—spread their legs and?—”
“Dad.” The word comes out sharp enough to surprise us both. My fists are clenched so tight, my knuckles ache. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell the truth? That girl’s just like her mother was. Pretty face, tight jeans, and nothing but trouble underneath.”
The image of what’s underneath Callie’s jeans flashes through my mind before I can stop it, and I have to turn away before Dad sees it on my face.
“We need to clean up,” Dad says, dismissing us. “And remember what I said. No more contact with the Thompsons. Any of them. I won’t have my sons thinking with their dicks instead of their heads.”
Inside the house, Jesse flops down on the couch and grins at me. “So, Callie Thompson. Interesting development.”
“There’s no development.”
