Beard Science (Winston Brothers Book 3) (20 page)

So, no. I didn’t want to kiss Cletus.

Not if it didn’t mean something to him.

Because it would mean something to me.

The ache in my chest became a burning thing, I pressed my fingers against my sternum and rubbed.

“Here are the facts.” Cletus paused, his tone rational and reasonable. “You need practice. Yes, at first you got my attention because of the video. I freely admit that. But we’ve become something else. We’re friends, right?”

“I hope so,” I admitted as I stood from the rock and faced the trail, not yet brave enough to meet his gaze when the subject was whether or not he would teach me how to kiss.

“Then let me help you, as a friend. I can teach you how, give you confidence in your technique. I know what I’m doing. I’m basically a kissing professional.”

“I have no doubt you know what you’re doing,” I said without turning around and a little stab of jealousy prickled behind my eyes, making my brain hot.

How many women has he kissed?

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t know.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. I could feel his eyes on me and it did nothing to ease the riot of emotions and longing assaulting my heart, making it difficult to breathe and think.

“How about we do it once, no big deal. If you—”

“Cletus!” I faced him suddenly. He sounded so practical, so academic about the whole thing. Like kissing me would be as forgettable as eating a tuna sandwich. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine.” He lifted his hands as though he surrendered. “Don’t talk about it. Just think about it.”

I exhaled an agitated breath and turned away. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

In my peripheral vision I saw him nod once, like the matter was settled.

I felt slightly sick. Because the truth was, given the strength of my reaction to his suggestion, I probably wouldn’t think about anything other than kissing Cletus Winston for the foreseeable future.

“
Hide not your talents, they for use were made. What's a sundial in the shade?
”

― Benjamin Franklin

~Jennifer~

Rain pounded
against
the roof
when Billy picked me up on Saturday morning. Rainy days are my favorite because hot food tastes best on a cold rainy day.

My mother was not happy about my decision to go to Nashville. It took some convincing, but she finally acquiesced. She said it was because I didn’t have any events or special appearances booked. But the truth was, I didn’t give her much of a choice.

The only thing giving me some guilt was that I had to bake, decorate, and freeze the cake orders for the next several days ahead of time. The cakes wouldn’t be as fresh as usual, but they were finished and ready to be delivered.

Hopefully, their personality would keep.

I escaped my house easily enough, Billy holding a big umbrella over our heads, but then stopped short in my driveway. Billy’s truck was nowhere in sight. In its place was an impressive, black Lincoln town car. The first thing I noticed about the car—other than its make, model, and color—was that it had suicide doors and appeared to be vintage.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“This is Cletus’s car. He wanted us to drive it over.”

Beau was leaning against the car and lifted his head from where he was scrolling on his phone. The redhead gave me a welcoming grin, and then he wagged his eyebrows. “Bring any muffins?”

I chuckled and blushed because I’d looked up the euphemism-use of the word
muffin
on my laptop. My father would see it in the search history, but I told myself it was just as well. Sooner or later a girl with a mind to marry has to figure things out. Ignorance didn’t feel much like bliss these days.

Billy scowled at his brother, but I cut in before he could reprimand Beau. “No muffins for you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m a discriminate baker.”

Billy barked a laugh. And once Beau recovered from his shock, he laughed as well.

When we were settled and on our way, I thought to ask, “Where is Cletus? Are we picking him up?”

“No. We’re the only ones driving. I had work last night and Beau held down things at the auto shop. Everyone else flew out yesterday on, uh, Sienna’s plane.”

“Sienna has a plane?”

Beau answered from the back seat. “She chartered it, to fly from Knoxville to Nashville.”

“Oh.” I let this information sink in. I’d never known anyone who chartered a plane. It took me a moment to wrap my mind around the idea. “So, who went yesterday?”

“Everybody. Jethro and Sienna, Duane and Jess, Ashley and Drew, Cletus, of course. Roscoe is already in Nashville, for vet school, so he’s meeting us there.”

“I didn’t know he was becoming a vet.” I glanced over my shoulder at Beau.

“Y’all are the same age, right?” Billy checked his side mirror and merged onto the highway.

“That’s right. We were in church choir together.” I didn’t add that he and I had never spoken to each other over the course of our entire lives, but so it goes being the unofficial reject in a small town.

Rascally Roscoe
is what the pastor’s wife used to call him; becoming a vet and working with animals suited his playful spirit.

“He’s not going to recognize you.” Billy’s comment drew my eyes to him; he was watching me with a thoughtful frown.

“I’m sure he’s changed, too.”

“Not much.” Beau laughed. “He’s basically the same. Meanwhile, you’ve become a swan in the last two months. What happened all the sudden?”

“Jennifer has always been lovely.” Billy scowled at Beau through the rearview mirror, and his defense of me sounded almost . . . well, it sounded almost brotherly. It reminded me of Isaac and made me happy-sad.

“That’s not what I meant, Billy,” Beau responded irritably. He tapped me on the shoulder and I turned in my seat to meet his earnest expression. “I wasn’t referring to what you look like, Jenn.
You
have changed. You’re finally talking to people. It’s good.”

“I’m not talking to many people,” I said and thought out loud. “Just ya’ll, really. Cletus has—” I stopped myself, glancing at Billy.

“This isn’t a date, so feel free to bring up Cletus to your heart’s content.” He dipped his head in an encouraging nod.

I gave him a grateful smile. “Cletus has been a big help, and so has your brother here.” I indicated to Billy with my thumb. “I think I’ve been stuck. Y’all grew up here, you understand how it is. Everybody thinks they know everybody, but they don’t. Not really. Look at my family, Isaac for example. If someone had predicted five years ago that Isaac would be riding with the Iron Wraiths, I think everyone would’ve called that person crazy.”

“Do you talk much? You and Isaac?” The line of Billy’s brow had grown stern, preoccupied.

I shook my head, attempting to ignore the dull ache in my chest. “I’ve seen him, around town. But he doesn’t acknowledge me.” I stared out my window and spoke my thoughts as they occurred to me. “His indifference was difficult at first, and confusing. Growing up, you know how sheltered we were. My momma kept us busy and we had a good education, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t lonely sometimes. Isaac was my friend, my only friend really if you don’t count my pen pals. And I was his. He was so serious and stern all the time, and I’d make him laugh.”

Beau placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “He’ll come around.”

“Or he won’t.” Billy’s tone was severe and his tempestuous eyes cut to Beau’s reflection. “Or he’ll become one of them and he’ll be lost.”

Beau sighed loudly. “Gee thanks, Billy. You win the award for most depressing statement of the road trip. Next time maybe keep all the sunshine and rainbows to yourself.”

“No. It’s okay.” I patted Beau’s hand where it rested on my shoulder. “When Isaac left, I think it was good for me. I missed him, and I miss him now. But I didn’t get restless until he left for the army. If he’d done as my parents wanted, gone to college for marketing and joined the family business, I don’t know if I ever would’ve approached Cletus for help. Desperation is a great motivator.” I laughed, and Beau squeezed my shoulder again.

“So you went to Cletus for help?” The curiosity in Billy’s tone had me regretting my words.

“I . . . uh . . . yes. I asked him if he’d help me, uh, figure out how to get out there and meet people. And he said yes.” I rolled my lips between my teeth, hoping they wouldn’t ask about the particulars.

“I’m surprised,” Beau said.

“I’m not,” Billy’s eyes had clouded, as though he was recalling a specific memory.

Before I could ask why Billy wasn’t surprised, Beau spoke up. “You’re not? He likes to meddle with us, and he’ll help people with car troubles and the like. But after what happened with—”

“Beau.” Billy’s tone was sharp and exacting. “Mind your words.”

I glanced between the two brothers, knowing my eyes were wide with curiosity and anticipation. “After what happened?”

Billy shifted in his seat, his jaw ticking. He didn’t look at me. “Cletus used to, you know, lose his temper a lot growing up.”

I remembered this about Cletus, but only via hearsay. “My father used to talk about Cletus, at dinner. He said Cletus was a dangerous kid, always getting into fights, and that we should avoid him.”

“Cletus doesn’t like bullies,” Beau chimed in, but then volunteered nothing else, even though I got the sense he wanted to expand further.

Billy’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace. “He doesn’t like bullies,” he echoed. “He used to get into trouble for standing up to bullies, instead of minding his own business.”

“He still stands up to bullies,” Beau mumbled. “He’s just a lot sneakier about it now.”

Billy scratched his cheek, his eyebrows pulling into a V as he studied the road. “We should talk about something else.”

“Good idea.” Beau smacked the seat next to him. “How about we talk about Jennifer’s muffins and how I can get another taste?”

“Oh good Lord.” I chuckled, not caring that he made my cheeks burn red.

“Beau.” Billy’s voice was heavy with warning, but there was humor in it as well. “How about we talk about Thanksgiving? What are your holiday plans, Jenn?”

“Oh, we don’t usually do much. The week before is a busy time for my momma and me. I must’ve made over five hundred banana cakes last Thanksgiving, and every year it increases. So my father goes to a friend’s house to watch football on the day. My momma stays at the lodge and works.”

Billy glanced at me askance, visibly horrified.

But it was Beau who spoke. “Oh,
hell
no. You’re coming to our house for Thanksgiving. And you’re eating pie. Lots of it.”

“And you’ll bake nothing,” Billy commanded.

“I don’t know.” The idea of spending Thanksgiving with the Winstons struck me as wonderful, but also terrifying. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be.” Beau sounded so sure. “It’s settled.”

“Besides,” Billy added with confidence and a glimmer of something like mischief, “I’m sure Cletus was already planning to invite you. We just saved him the trouble.”

***

The car ride
ended too quickly and by the time we’d reached our destination, I felt affection for Billy and Beau Winston.

What does this say about me?
Was I doomed to go through life developing
an affection
for every new person I spoke to for longer than an hour?

If so, maybe my parents had been right to keep me sheltered.

I also couldn’t help comparing this new affection for Billy and Beau to my feelings for Cletus. It was different, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. My feelings for Cletus were . . . overwhelming, whereas my affection for Billy and Beau felt tranquil.

Clarity about the issue arrived when Cletus and Claire took the stage for the talent contest.

The whole shebang took place at the old Marzipan Theater in Nashville. The event space accommodated an audience of about five thousand; an impressive number, but nowhere near the size of a big arena show. Beau explained as we took our seats that the theater had hosted the likes of Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash back in the day, but had fallen into disrepair. It had recently been beautifully restored and the talent show was meant to relaunch it as a viable venue.

Cletus and Claire were the third act of ten. When Cletus appeared, my heart rose, clogging my throat, and I sat at the edge of my seat, waiting with bated breath for them to start their three-song set. They did and the audience fell quiet; they’d chosen a haunting love song to open, one I’d never heard before.

Cletus didn’t play the banjo during this first song, he played the acoustic guitar and he sang a duet with Claire. I’d never heard him sing before, and so my bated breath became a breath held, and then a sigh of thorough delight and wonder. He had a remarkable voice, deep and rich, and like his laugh it reminded me of smooth chocolate.

As Cletus and Claire finished the first song to a round of roaring applause, I decided that the difference between Cletus and his brothers was that Billy and Beau did
not
agitate my emotions. They inspired warmth and fondness; benign, safe feelings.

Cletus, however, had me on spin cycle. He agitated every single one of my emotions. I was all over the place. I’d never realized that feeling so much all at once was possible.

Cletus picked up his banjo for the next song, which was an upbeat cover of Mumford and Son’s “I Will Wait
.
”
Claire played the guitar and sang lead vocal.

I glanced at the row of Winstons and their partners and it warmed my heart to see each of them smiling at the stage, various shades of adoration and pride written on their features. I didn’t feel envy, but I did feel longing. This, right here, was why I wanted a big family.

They finished the set with Johnny Cash’s
“Tennessee,” but Claire switched
blue-eyed girl
with
boy
,
and
gal
became
guy
. It totally worked. She sounded deep and husky for this last song, demonstrating her impressive range. Plus, her voice had a vivid quality that sent goosebumps down my back. She was brilliant.

Much like Sienna with her gravitational aura, Claire’s presence on stage was both natural and thrilling. And so was Cletus. I might have been a little biased, but I thought he was just as good as Claire . . . except, he held himself back. He was circumspect, as though foisting the attention on his partner was the primary goal.

Even on stage, Cletus seemed determined to hide from the spotlight, to conceal his amazing. This comprehension left me agitated. He was remarkable, and yet he was determined people think of him as mediocre.

They finished and the place exploded, all five thousand or so audience members jumped to their feet. Claire laughed and tossed her hair, mouthing the words
thank you
and blowing kisses. Meanwhile, Cletus packed up his gear, took a short bow, and walked off the stage.