Page 36 of Some Like It Hott

Eloise’s tears dry up, and she nods.

“Sorry,” Sonya says to me. “Can we get together soon?”

“Definitely,” I tell her, and she and Eloise follow Uncle Preston into the kitchen.

I watch them go, filled with sympathy for Eloise. I know exactly how it feels to want more of Preston’s time and attention.

18

Preston

Natalie was right. About pretty much everything.

Watching my four big, tough brothers—and five even bigger, even tougher Wilder brothers—get their nails painted has been an unexpected treat.

Brawny, bearded Gabe Wilder’s nails are ten different shades of pink, including four with glitter.

I didn’t even know there were that many shades of pink.

Horseback riding, lasso lessons, the rage room—they’re all huge hits.

And apparently people love submerging themselves in an enormous kiddie pool of Jell-O with other people and rolling around. Go figure. There’s no accounting for taste.

I look around for Natalie. She’s astride a horse, walking it around the perimeter of Hanna’s enormous back yard, under the instruction of a tall, broad-shouldered twentysomething in a cowboy hat. Her tits bounce with the horse’s motion—a glorious sight to behold—but that’s not the thing that makes it impossible to look away. It’s the expression on her face. She’s beaming, delighted.

I’m not the only person who’s noticed. The cowboy at her side can’t take his eyes off her, either. And I’m pretty sure it’s not her smile that has his attention.

My hands clench into fists.

“She’s pretty good at her job, huh?” Shane asks. I turn to find him at my side, also watching Natalie. It’s hard not to because joy radiates off her, like sunlight. There’s an intense magnetism to how much she’s enjoying herself. Or maybe that’s just me.

I want to be closer to her.

“It’s lucky that you’re not trying to fulfill the terms of Granddad’s will on your own,” another dry voice says. “You’d be totally screwed.”

“Look who’s talking, Quinn,” I growl. “Best receptionist Hott Spot’s ever had.”

Both my brothers are wearing swim trunks and T-shirts and are soaking wet from the garden hose. Even so, they have leftover bits of purple Jell-O still clinging to their clothes, hair, and bodies.

“She’s easy on the eyes, too,” Shane muses aloud, looking from me to Natalie.

“Don’t be a dick, Shane,” I growl.

Quinn shrugs one shoulder. “Don’t let him goad you.”

“Who’s goading anyone?” I say, trying for an equally careless shrug and failing miserably. “I’m not interested in her.”

Quinn winces. “You don’t want to go there, dude. It’s like catnip to him.” He tilts his head at our brother.

When Quinn told Shane he wasn’t interested in Sonya, Shane went to town messing with Quinn’s head. Of course, now Shane’s planning his own wedding, and he’s so gone for Ivy that I can’t imagine him playing those kinds of games.

“It’s not like that,” I say. “Natalie’s not my type. We couldn’t be more different.”

Both my brothers eye me suspiciously.

I throw my hands up. “What?”

“We’re not saying you’re interested,” Quinn says carefully. “It’s just that, well, Grandfather’s plans have a way of working out.”

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