“Stand there and look pretty,” he chirps.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t you make me bust open a can of whoop-ass on you.”
He throws back his head and laughs, low and deep, the sound traveling all the way up from his belly.
When Anders laughs, the sound is lighter—I feel it in my chest, wrapping its way around my heart.
Ireallyneed to stop thinking things like this.
“It’s the way she says it with her English accent,” Jonas says to Anders once they’ve recovered.
“Priceless,” Anders agrees, his green eyes sparkling.
I wonder how I didn’t immediately peg them as brothers. Yes, Jonas is a bit bigger and more muscly, and Anders’s features are more refined, but there’s something about their expressions that yells family resemblance.
“You two look so alike when you’re smiling.”
“Whereasyoulook nothing likeyoursister at all,” Jonas remarks.
“Well, weareonly half sisters,” I remind him, but it stings to hear him say it.
Bailey and Idolook different. She’s so pretty and shiny and I’m just...lesser.
“Seriously, how can I help?” I persist.
“It’s a one-person job,” Anders assures me, smiling.
“Yet you’ve both graced me with your presence,” I reply sweetly. “And I’m very grateful,” I add quickly, trying to sound serious.
Scott and I shared his truck and he did everything when it came to the maintenance of it. I know I should’ve been moreDown with the patriarchy!and learned about these things myself, but the truth is, I find it sexy when a guy knows his way around a car.
As Anders tackles a particularly stiff wheel nut, the sleek muscles on his arms tightening and flexing, I remind myself that he just wants to be friends.
But he’s a veryhotfriend. And it’s okay if I appreciateallof his assets, right?
It’s seven o’clockby the time Jonas and Anders have changed the tires, towed the Airstream down to their farm, and helped me scrub and pressure-wash it clean. They’ve both got stuck in and it’s been a laugh, with lots of banter being batted back and forth. My clothes are damp and dirty and my arms are aching, but my insides feel as effervescent as the soapsuds bubbling away on the dusty ground.
I read something recently about the importance of doing things in life that bring you joy. Anders had the right idea when he said he wanted to get Jonas back out on their old motocross trail. I haven’t personally had a whole lot of happiness in my life lately, but standing here now and staring at Bambi, I can’t wipe the smile from my face.
It’s not as shiny as most of the Airstreams I’ve seen online—the metal has definitely dulled with age—but I like this matte-look finish.
Peggy arrived back from the hospital soon after I got here, looking weary but pleasantly surprised to see the three of us together. She invited me to stay for supper. Insisted, actually. I didn’t want to impose, not with everything she’s going through, but Anders gave me a look that implied I should accept. Whenshe left us to it, he commented that it would help take her mind off things.
I feel too grubby to be sitting down at her table, but the sun still has real heat in it, so at least my dress will probably be dry by the time we reach the house.
“When are you going back to Indy?” I ask Anders as we wait for Jonas to put away the pressure washer.
“Tuesday.”
“Do you think you’ll come here again this summer?”
“I wouldn’t usually, but Jonas has been bugging me to take some time off.”
“I thought it was difficult to take a break during racing season?”
“It is, but I’ll see what I can do.”
I get the feeling he’d move mountains for his brother. Will Bailey and I ever be that close? Six years is a big age gap, but it’s less noticeable now that we’re older. I never thought we had enough in common to be sisters who are also friends, but I’m not as daunted by her outgoing personality these days. I used to retreat into my shell around her, but I’m more confident now. There’s definitely hope for us.
