Page 1 of Saving Jared

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“You’re practically naked!”

"How, Darin? How am I naked? Practically or otherwise?" Willa Taggert crossed her arms and raised her brows expectantly at her oldest brother. After posing for the annual charity calendar featuring Maribel County, Florida firefighters, she’d anticipated this reaction.

It was Darin, after all.

It was why she’d prepared herself with every comeback imaginable. She’d just kind of hoped she wouldn’t need them. But no such luck—much to her disappointment.

"Well?"

Tick, tick, tick…

The clock hanging on their gaming room wall filled the silence. And with each of those ticks, Darin’s frown deepened, while his annoyed, dark blue eyes stayed on hers. When it came to stare-offs, Darin usually won. But it wasn’t happening this time. Her own eyes narrowed as a red flush climbed into his cheeks, competing with his dark auburn hair. If there had ever been any doubt about the whole red-headed equals hot-tempered thing, she could vouch it wasn’t a myth. It was a thing, and Darin was the poster child.

His broad chest relaxed on a long sigh. "Okay," he finally said with a quick glance at the calendar in his hand. The glossy pages opened to her month bent in his tight grip.

Darin had flinched first.

Round one to Willa.

"You’re not completely naked, but you might as well be." He tossed the calendar face down onto the green felt-covered poker table, then leaned across it with his palms laid flat on its surface. His resigned sigh matched the look he gave her. "Do you have any idea what some men might think if they saw you like this?"

"No, Darin. Tell me." Not that she expected he wouldn’t. Her brother had no problem saying exactly what was on his mind. It was a Taggert trait. One she and her three brothers all shared—regardless of her adopted status or not. "What would some men think?"

"Yeah, Darin." She rolled her eyes at Eric’s snickering comment from his place on the low, brown leather couch behind her. Otherwise, she ignored him. Leave it to the youngest of the Taggert brothers to find her dilemma more entertaining than the sports channel on their widescreen TV. "What would some men think?"

"You’re not helping," Darin groused while throwing a helpless look at Willa. "I’m not talking about men like me or your other brothers." He pulled out a chair and sat, lifted one edge of the calendar up a couple of inches, closed his eyes for a second, then let it fall back down with a huff. "I’m talking about men who won’t care what kind of person you are."

"It’s not so bad," Ben quietly spoke up as he picked up the calendar and turned her picture over. His ginger-red, bearded face broke out in a smile when he glanced up at her. "I think you look pretty, Willa-bear." Oh, her sweet, middle, mountain man of a brother—always trying to keep the peace.

"I didn’t say she wasn’t pretty." Darin threw an exasperated glance up at Ben. "But that’s the problem. She’s too pretty."

"I would say thanks." She grimaced at the backhanded compliment. "But I don’t think you meant that in good way."

"Well…" Eric’s tall form, still dressed in the work clothes he’d started out in before dawn, sauntered into view. At least he’d taken off his muddy boots. "I’ve already told you what I think we should do." He leaned back against the mahogany bar trimmed in brass—his muscled forearms resting behind him on the bar’s surface—then nodded at the calendar in Ben’s hands. "We buy all the copies and burn them." A grin split his face. "It’s for charity, so I look at it as a win-win situation."

“You would." Willa had no doubt he’d do it too. "But it’s too late." Her back went ramrod straight, while the slow smile she gave them probably bordered on smug. “They’ve been up for preorder for weeks and we’ve sold and mailed out over a thousand copies already.”

She braced herself for the explosion. She could see it coming with each look her brothers shared amongst themselves—looks ranging from surprised to concerned to downright irritated.

"A thousand copies," Darin finally murmured, shaking his head and slumping back in his seat. "Wow."

A bewildered Darin was something to behold as he stood and stalked past a grimacing Eric. It was that unlike him. She tracked his progress around the end of the bar. Not once did he look at her. But he did have a few things to say on his way to the refrigerator—all muttered and interspersed with words like mashers and sex fiends. He opened up the stainless side-by-side and pulled a bottled beer from the fridge and twisted off the cap. "A thousand copies…" A short, humorless laugh left him before he lifted the bottle to his lips and turned it up.

"But I do have a question."

Ben wasn’t one to yell or throw out snarky comments. So those few words spoken in his gruff, quiet way was all it took to pull Willa’s attention from Darin guzzling about half the contents of his bottle. Her brother gently put the calendar back on the table while his heavy brows drew tight.

She peered up at the towering, six-foot-eight man. Sorrow mixed with confusion shown in his bright, sky-blue gaze, sending the first niggle of regret creeping through her. The confusion she blamed on herself. But the sorrow?

Eleven years was a long time to mourn, and she had to believe Scarlett wouldn’t have wanted that for him.

"Why?"

Ben had a valid question.

Willa had lots of answers. Answers she had given him and their brothers countless times when it came to her being an adult. But the most pressing was the one she’d worked the hardest to get through to them.

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