Page 59
Just breakfast. Right. Just breakfast where everyone will see me arriving with the guys. Just breakfast where the gossip mill will start churning before I even reach the mimosa table.
Knox shifts beside me, his jaw muscles rippling. He’s not excited to be here either. “Do you want to leave? Say the word.”
The protectiveness in his voice makes my pulse skip. Part of me wants to say yes, to flee back to the safety of their cabin where the only people who matter are the four of us. But that’s the old Callie talking. The one who ran instead of facing the music.
“No.” I straighten my shoulders. “I’m tired of hiding.” Besides, Mom would be sad if I didn’t show up.
Jax kills the engine and glances over his shoulder at us. “Then let’s go show this town what they’ve been missing.”
The moment my feet hit the gravel driveway, conversations quiet. Not completely, people are trying to be subtle about their staring, but subtle in a town like Big Ridge is like wearing white to a wedding that isn’t your own. Heat creeps up my neck as I smooth down the dress I wore yesterday, hyperaware of Knox’s solid presence beside me and the twins flanking us.
This is one hell of a walk of shame.
Mrs. Peterson from the hardware store nearly drops her plate of fruit salad. The Miller sisters, who used to torment me in algebra class, lean in to whisper something to each other. Even old Mr. Henderson, whose lenses are thick as a brick, seems to be straining to get a better look.
Great, even the geezers want to know about my sex life.
My fight-or-flight response kicks into overdrive. Every instinct screams at me to bolt, to hide, to disappear into the crowd or better yet, back into Jax’s truck.
Knox steps closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Ignore them.” His voice is low, meant only for me. “They’re not worth your time.”
Before I can respond, he’s already moving toward the house, that purposeful stride of his cutting through the crowd like he owns the place. Several people nod respectfully as he passes. His grumpy reputation precedes him even at breakfast gatherings. That’s why no one ever messes with him.
Maura appears from behind one of the serving tables, her blonde-gray hair caught up in a messy bun and her face lighting up like Christmas morning when she spots me and the twins. She beelines straight for me, ignoring the whispers completely like she’s had plenty of practice, and I bet she has. She used to be the one everyone talked about.
“You three look like you slept well together,” she says, smile turning wicked. “In the same bed.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Jax says.
She gives him a disbelieving once over. “Well, all I can say is it’s about damn time you all grew a pair and told Callie how you feel.” She turns to me, beaming. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Maura.” I manage a genuine smile for the woman who’s been like a second mother to me. Of course she isn’t scandalized. Maura probably has her own menagerie of men.
She winks and hefts a tray of what looks like chocolate chip pancakes. “Your mom’s been buzzing around here like a cracked out hummingbird and your daddy’s been chasing after her. You know how she gets.”
I do know. Mom throws herself into hosting with the same intensity most people reserve for Olympic training. Mom isn’t happy unless everything is perfect and everyone is included, and my dad isn’t happy unless Mom is sitting down relaxing and letting other people do the hard work.
“Don’t let a few nosy Nancys run you off. Women own their sexuality now. We fuck who we want when we want, isn’t that right, Callie?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, fighting a laugh. Maura talking about sex will never not be weird.
“Well then, you all come on and help.” She waves us toward the house and hustles off to deliver pancakes.
“Are we really doing this?” I whisper.
Jax steps closer, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fuck ’em. If they want to talk, let them talk.”
With that declaration, he swoops in and kisses me. Right there in the middle of Mom’s front yard, with half the town watching. I gasp in surprise at the boldness of it, and he pulls away with a chuckle, booping my nose.
“Jax!” But he’s already sauntering off to help carry food, leaving me standing there with my lips tingling and my cheeks burning. Jesus, that man knows how to kiss.
Brax slides his fingers through mine, interlacing them like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The simple gesture sends warmth shooting up my arm, but it also makes me acutely aware of all the attention now laser-focused on us.
They’re speculating. Remembering. Probably wondering if history is about to repeat itself, or if it has already. Wondering if I’m about to get tangled up with the Williams brothers again only to have it all blow up spectacularly.
But you know what? I think I’m done running from one of the best nights of my life. I’m tired of being ashamed of something that felt so right, so perfect, so absolutely fucking amazing that my body still aches for more. I can’t wait to do it again. Hell, maybe I’ll even record it and post it online.
Whoa, whoa. Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. All I mean is that I’m embracing this. I refuse to hide it to make other people more comfortable or to avoid being the center of gossip.
