Page 98 of Roughing It

“You Brooks boys always have a table here.” She turns her lovely, laugh-lined face to me. “And for your beautiful lady friend.” She pats my arm and guides me through the restaurant.

Doing my best to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze, I examine the colorful murals on the walls, the gorgeous southwestern shades, and the tempting scents coming from all sides. Ava seats us in a large booth, and I sneak into the side facing away from the other patrons.

Hudson is right, of course. By the time Ava walked us through the restaurant, no one was paying us any mind, but I’d still rather not wake up to pictures of me stuffing my face.

“So.” I clear my throat.

“So.” He raises one eyebrow at me.

“The bookstore was amazing. Saul’s a trip, though.”

“He thinks he’s the fucking pope of Trail Creek or something, but he’s harmless.”

I smile and fiddle with my menu. The older man questioned me about my motives for coming to Trail Creek and if I planned to give the town a positive review. I tried to explain I’m not a travel blogger, but he didn’t seem interested inanything other than telling me about how unique Trail Creek is.

“Yeah, he seemed more concerned?—”

“We have company.” Hudson’s words cut mine off, and panic must be visible on my face because he adds, “It’s not my parents, and I swear I didn’t plan this.”

“Nice to see you again, Blakely!” Next to our booth stand two slightly younger versions of Hudson. Bo and Gray.

“How the hell did you two clowns find us? We just sat down.” He frowns at his brothers.

Gray crosses his arms. “Mistake number one?—”

Hudson groans. “Saul.”

“Yep. The gossip train started when our knock-off Taylor Doose spotted you.” The youngest Brooks brother winks at me.

There’s a low grumble coming from Hudson’s side of the booth, but I’m too stuck on Bo’s words about the gossip train to worry about anything else.

My therapist and I talk a lot about why I’m okay with being a minor entity online but hate the way small towns function. Together, we’ve worked through so many of my feelings about it, and I’ve concluded it’s because I can control the narrative of what I put out there when I’m online. And that comments, while hurtful, don’t affect my day-to-day life unless I give them power. She says the same is true about real-life gossip, but I like to remind her that real-life gossip did, in fact, impact my day-to-day life. I’m a gem like that.

Bo grins. “Aren’t you gonna invite us to join you?”

I fix my face and smile at Hudson. “Yeah, aren’t you going to invite your brothers to join us?”

Of course, my perceptive Bear sees through my mask, his eyes searching me over.

“Not yet. Why don’t you two go get us some sangria?”

Bo looks like he’s ready to argue, but Gray nods and pulls him away.

Hudson’s hands settle over mine, his thumbs tracing random patterns over my knuckles. “Talk to me.”

“This is exactly like Hawthorne.” He doesn’t say anything, so I press on. “The way everyone stared when we walked in, that it took two stops for people to call your family. I can’t,” I swallow, my eyes darting around the restaurant.

The pressure on my hands increases. “What do you think people are saying?”

“I’m not good enough for you. I’m city trash. This is all pretend, a publicity stunt inside a publicity stunt. I’m a highfalutin hustler.”

“Highfalutin?” The creases in his brow deepen.

Despite myself, I smile. “Yeah. Highfalutin. As a former Texas boy, I know you’ve heard it before.”

“Sure, but no one but my Memaw and her quilting circle still use that word.” Then he gets serious. “Blakely, I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable right now. This is what you worried would happen, but my gut says none of those things you’re thinking are what’s being said.”

My counterpoint is on the tip of my tongue when Bo and Gray return.

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