Page 37 of Tempt Me

“We know you always come for the first day.” Jevin shrugged. “We wanted to see you.”

“What if I was busy?”

“Busy?” He glanced at me, then he did a double take. “Oh, I see.”

Jamila whacked his beefy arm. “Not like that. I meant that I’m busy with the camp.”

Not like that.Of course it wasn’t. I only wished it were.

“Too busy for your brothers to take you to dinner?” Jevin did a superior impression of a puppy-dog-eyes emoji.

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re not going to stick me with the check?”

“You’rea billionaire,” J.J. said.

“You do fine,” she said. “And who paid for your school?”

“You did.” When he looked down at his sneaker, I caught an echo of what he must have been like when he was smaller than Jamila. J.J. was the quiet one.

“We’re buying,” Jevin said. “Now come on. You, too, Natalie. I want to hear about this PR work.”

But on the ride to the restaurant, there were no PR questions for me. I sat in the backseat of Jevin’s black Escalade next to J.J. while Jamila and Jevin argued in the front seat about where we were going, Jevin’s driving, and whether the air conditioning should be on or the windows open. Finally, he pulled into a gravel parking lot next to a shack.

A literal shack.

A haphazard array of picnic tables dotted the scrubby grass, and all types of people occupied them, most dressed casually but a few wearing business suits with jackets folded beside them on the benches.

When I didn’t move to get out, J.J. stuck his head back into the car. “You coming, Natalie?”

“Wait, I…I thought it was another joke. We’re actually eating here?”

“Texans don’t joke about barbecue,” he said. “This is the best barbecue spot in Austin.”

I slid out of the SUV.

“Find us a table, Mila,” he said. “We’ll get in line.”

I only noticed the line as J.J. mentioned it. It extended almost to the parking lot. While the two men sauntered to the end of it, several women watched them. A few shook their heads in appreciation.

“Come on.” Jamila grabbed my hand like I was six and towed me to a table where a group of guys in battered jeans and boots had just stood. “Y’all all done?” she asked in a sweet-tea voice.

“Yep.” One tall man plunked a straw cowboy hat on his head and swiped at a spot of sauce on the table. The neatness of his movement, along with his sandy-blond hair and blue eyes, reminded me of Cooper Fallon. “It’s all yours.” He winked.

“Thanks, cowboy.” She grinned.

My cheeks burning, I tried to shake my hand loose so she could properly flirt back, but she held on tight.

He snagged a beer bottle from the table and held it up in a toast. “Y’all have a pleasant night.”

“Thanks. Y’all too.” She sat on the bench and scooted over so I could sit beside her.

But I didn’t sit. I snatched some paper towels off the roll in the center of the table and started wiping it down. “You don’t have to stay here with me,” I muttered. “You can…you can chat with him if you like.” I scrubbed at a stain, but it was so old it was part of the wood.

“Chat with who?”

“That cowboy.” I nodded at him. He and his friends strolled toward the parking lot.

“Why would I do that?”

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