last time you leave Baker’s Creek,” I say, following right behind him.
“Come to visit often, and I’ll think about it.”
“I’m running the summer camp you volunteered to organize.”
“You insisted I stayed in Baker’s. If it was up to me—”
“This is me you’re talking to, Beac. Don’t pretend you don’t care about it, because I know you better than you know yourself,” I warn him.
He smiles and pulls me into an embrace. “Fine, I might give a few fucks. Because I do, I’m doing my best to behave. You should come and visit me more often, though.” His voice sounds like a plea. “There’s a room with your name on it.”
“There is not.”
“Come and see it for yourself.” He kisses my temple and looks at me. “What happened to the latest loser? Did you break up with him?”
I give him the SparkNotes. The asshole dumped me before I had the chance.
“You need a few lessons on how to date,” he claims.
“Because you’re an expert.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“Beacon, I’m not in the mood,” I grumble as we arrive at my car.
“I’m trying to save you time and energy,” he replies.
“As much as I’d like to listen to your wise words, you have to go.” I tilt my head toward my brother’s car.
“I’m wise.” He laughs. “G, you just need to stop dating losers and maybe…I don’t know. I’d have to see your dating techniques and figure out what you’re doing wrong.”
“So, you agree there’s something wrong with me?”
“No, you’re perfect. There’s a difference between being smart, talented, and gorgeous and knowing how to date.”
I snort, “You’re going to give me dating advice?”
This guy has never dated in his entire life.
“Mr. Casanova doesn’t have any moves,” I mock him. “You just snap your fingers, and women flock around you. What’s today’s flavor?”
“My, G, that’s inaccurate,” he says. “That was back when I was a stupid kid. Plus, you know my brothers and I have rules. We don’t date the townies.”
“You still act like a kid,” I remind him.
“You like me that way.”
“Not always.”
“Well, the offer is on the table. Come to Baker’s Creek so I can tame the shrew. I can give you a few tips. Maybe teach you how to avoid losers.”
I burst into laughter. “Go home, Beac.”
He gives me a weird look. “Come with me.”
“Maybe another day, okay?”
He cups my face and says, “Swear, you’re not going to start working with another team just because I’m not there.”
“I’ll try.”
“Damn it, G!”
“How about just scouting work with Seth?”
“You’re such a maddening, stubborn woman.” He shakes his head, kisses my forehead, and leaves.
And maybe that’s my problem. I don’t let anyone dictate my life. I’m quiet, but I make sure people hear me. I’m shy, but I impose what I feel is right. I’m not some weak mademoiselle in distress. I save men who are in trouble.
Chapter Eight
Beacon
“Hell, day one thousand and twenty-seven,” I complain while preparing dinner.
I like to pretend I’m upset about the chores assigned to me or our situation when my family is around. It creates a fun atmosphere.
Henry gets irritated. Pierce pokes him. Hayes lectures them. Henry cusses in response because we’re always judging him. Mills chides them for swearing in front of his kid. I toss a few more words to work them up and add Vance into the mix. That dude needs anger management. It’s so much fun to stir them and watch them fight about some nonsense.
“We all have to cook,” our oldest brother, Henry, argues.
He doesn’t cook shit. The guy orders food from the chef of the restaurant and voilà, we have a fancy dinner for eight and a kid’s meal. It really doesn’t bother me to help. I’m used to looking after myself—and cooking large meals for my people. My brothers and their wives don’t know it. I use everything they never cared to learn about me to my advantage.
See, that’s the difference between my brothers and me. They don’t use the weaknesses of their enemies to their benefit. Not that they are my enemies, but we’re not on the same team either.
They are still unsure if they want to stay, and unhappy because we have to live together. Coexisting with each other is more challenging than any of us thought. We’re older. Each one of us has some baggage. There’s also resentment among us. We’re mad because the other never called. If we were mature enough, we could be discussing everything as adults. We don’t. I resent that neither one of