Page 19 of Hating the Book Boyfriend

"What do you mean?" He leans against the counter.

"At the hotel, she volunteered for a polar plunge challenge to win a cash prize of three thousand dollars. I didn't ask what the money was for, but dipping into ice water for money seemed extreme."

His head bobs back in surprise. "We aren't having financial difficulties. We're doing better than we ever have, and like I said, she has her PR job..." He runs his thumb across his bottom lip. "That gives me an idea. JoJo could help you with your image. She handles the media for the farm in all capacities, but her specialty is crisis management." He shrugs. "You know, if you want help."

His response feels slightly like deflection, but not because he's trying to hide something, more like he doesn't have an answer for his sister's behavior. I leave it. He said his piece, and I have no reason not to believe it as true. Spinning the bottle in my hands, I check the label. The last beer I finished had notes of cinnamon, this one has more nutmeg and cloves, similar to a pumpkin flavor. The label says holiday collection; you need to read the ingredients on the back to know what his version of holiday tastes like. It reminds me of my current predicament. The man people see on the outside, "the package deal," they believe they are getting is different from the man inside. My brothers thought I needed help. Everett tried hiring a friend to help with my image. Initially, I bought into the idea, but in the end, I ran from it. I don't need more smoke and mirrors.

"No, I don't care what the world thinks. The only opinions that matter are friends and family. If you guys know the truth, the rest is just noise. I'm used to blocking it out. I only felt guilty about the stain I left on the firm, but my brothers' refiled the case and won. That happened right before I came here, actually."

I don't bother mentioning that home is where I was reluctantly heading when I got stranded and decided I wasn't ready to go back. Knowing they'd won the high-profile case, I had lost felt like a weight had been lifted. I never wanted to jeopardize a business they've worked so hard to build. Hell, I've poured into it too, but sometimes the things that used to fill our cups change, or at least that's what a waiter at a diner in Oregontold me one night over a pot of coffee. For some reason, that simple saying has stuck with me.

Kieran's truck pulls up outside the barn, and I nod toward the window. "He lingers."

Archer assesses me, his eyes holding mine a beat, before he says, "I'm going to act like noticing isn't equally as peculiar as lingering. Kieran is a traveling vet. His specialty is farm animals. It's why I asked him to tag along on my trip to pick up Beau. He's probably here to take a look at Snickerdoodle."

"Snickerdoodle? Did you get a new pet that I don't know about today?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turns down the flame on the stove. "Sugar plum… the dog."

"The name you're looking for is Snowball." I would know I've laid awake on the couch almost every night listening to her talk to that dog. She lets him sleep at the foot of her bed and everything.

He side-eyes me. "And you know the name of the dog."

"Are you really giving me flack about paying attention?"

Walking to the back door, he pulls on his coat. "When it comes to my sister, yeah, I am." He tosses me my jacket. "Come on, you put it in my head that Kieran's here for something other than pet care. Time to test that theory."

"I didn't know he was a traveling vet. That explains his prolonged visits."

"Maybe, but Snowball…" he lets the dog's name hang between us as if to say I've now put myself on his radar. "Is lying in the recliner." He throws his chin toward the chair in the living area just past the kitchen. "Come or don't, Callahan," he calls out, letting the storm door slap against the frame as he leaves.

There's no way I'm not going. Someone has to frame the narrative. Who better to do that than the man who hasn't left Pine Falls because of his sister?

When Archer said he wanted to test my theory, I didn't know that meant cutting fifteen trees and hauling them up to the barn for decoration while he played twenty questions with Kieran. My body isn't used to this kind of labor, but after two weeks of helping around the farm, the aches of using new muscles have started to ebb, but now my skin feels like it's on fire. I run the towel through my hair to dry, and as I do, my skin feels tight, like it might crack.

"Fuck," I hiss. I don't want anything on my skin. Even the towel wrapped around my waist feels like too much.

I'm ready to drop the towel when a gasp steals my focus. My eyes immediately flick up and land on the same ones that currently keep mine pinned open at night, too scared to close them and see hers. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were in here."

"I'm not." A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "It's not anything you haven't already seen." She's seen me in my underwear. I didn't change my sleeping attire because she was in my room.

Her eyes widen. "Excuse me, I haven't seen what's under that towel."

"Do you want to?"

"What? You know what…” she waves her hand up and down my body. “never mind. I'll leave you to it.” Her eyes fall to the floor as she steps back. Fuck. I hate that I don't want her to leave. Just like when we were younger, she's done a good job of making herself scarce since we've been home. At first, I was glad about it, but the opposite is true two weeks in. Like now, I want to pull her back to me, even if it's just to hear more of her snarkyremarks, and for a fleeting second, it feels like the gods have finally decided to show me some mercy because her eyes widen, and she takes a step toward me, but then she speaks. "Oh my god, Colton. What happened?" Her hand gently touches my arm, and I hiss. "I'm sorry," she snatches it back.

"Is it that bad?"

"That bad… your back is borderline raw. When did this start?"

I turn in the mirror and try to examine the damage for myself. "Shit, that's not good," I say when I see the red welts. The shower did not help. If anything, the water made it worse.

"I don't know. I woke up and felt itchy, so I hopped in the shower, and well… now here I am. Your guess is as good as mine. It fucking hurts. My skin feels tight and hot."

"You're probably allergic to the sap from the Christmas trees," she says as she digs through the medicine cabinet. "Sit down while I find some Benadryl. I know we have some around here somewhere." I sit on the toilet, and my eyes instantly fall to the hem of her sleep shirt, where I watch it rise to levels I shouldn't see but can't tear my eyes away from. I shouldn't want to know the weight of her cheek as it meets her milky thigh, and I definitely shouldn't be getting aroused by the scene. She's my best friend's sister, but when it's just us. I don't see Archer's sister. I see Josephine. The tomboy in boots and pigtails who used to run off and draw pictures every chance she got. I see the girl, the one I pretended not to see. The one I could never not see. She knocks something over in her search, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I don't think it's an allergic reaction. You're forgetting I worked this farm with your brother for many summers. I'll be fine with ibuprofen and maybe an ice pack to pull the heat out."

---