Page 36 of Westin

“Yeah? What’s Thomas think about that?”

I sigh, sitting on the porch rail. My bare feet swing. “He always had a thing for me, even when we were teenagers. He used to be nicer, but the older he gets and the more time he spends with his brothers, the meaner he gets about it.”

“Does he fuck with you?”

Westin takes out another cigarette. I watch him flick his lighter, a muscle in his forearm moving. Then, he inhales and exhales slowly.

His face is hard. Cold.

“Um, no,” I say. “Sometimes Avery does, like he did the night we met. I kind of wish it was Avery that died, not Clint. Maybe you can invite him up to Sovereign Mountain too.”

Westin’s brows shoot up, and there’s a second of silence. Then, he lets his head fall back as he laughs that rich, deep sound.

I frown. It wasn’t that funny.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Avery or Thomas, darling,” he says. “I have a feeling they’ll sort themselves out.”

“What does that mean?” I press.

He shakes his head. “Don’t you worry about it.”

I flip my hair, jumping off the railing. “I’m getting whiskey. You can’t tell me no because it’s my whiskey.”

He laughs, following me into the kitchen. I take down a shot glass and a bottle and step out the back. This porch is cooler with wooden lattices on either end to block the sun.

I sit on the bottom steps, my bare feet in the dust. He sits behind me on the top step. I’m between his knees, back to him, his boots on either side of my body.

I find I like sitting like this.

“What are you doing here? Just talking?” I ask, pouring a half shot.

He tugs at my hair. “Just looking at you.”

I glance over my shoulder. My stomach swoops.

“Why’s that?” I whisper.

He cups my chin, fingers trailing on my throat. “Because I’d like to keep seeing you.”

My heart hammers as I throw back a shot. It burns in my veins, giving me courage.

“You mean you want me to be your girl?” I ask.

“I mean, youaremy girl,” he says, thumb stoking the underside of my chin.

My head spins. He smells good, like sweat and the sex we just had in the truck. I take another half shot because what I want to ask requires bravery.

“Do you actuallylikeme?” I whisper.

He rumbles, and I feel it through his hand. “Yes, I do.”

The way he says it makes me go wild—firm, deep voice steady. No fucking around and pretending he doesn’t care. It’s straightforward, and that turns me on.

I shift, looking up at him from between his knees.

“I like you,” I say. “Sometimes you make me roll my eyes, but I still like you.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. His fingers caress my neck, slow and soft.

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