Page 14 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I immediately grin, recognizing the cadence behind a question he used to ask me every day at lunch. I was usually hungry, and him asking turned into a game. He would ask, then pull out some surprise he’d brought from home to share. His mother cooked way more than my mother ever did, and by the time we were in high school, Brody’s older brother Lennox, a chef, was already baking and experimenting with recipes.
I grin. “Always,” I answer, just like I did back then. We share a look that makes my heart squeeze. “The waitress is bringing us more.”
“And some queso,” Kristyn adds, totally oblivious to what’s happening between Brody and me.
Brody glances around the restaurant. “Google reviews said this place was good. I hope it checks out.”
I follow his gaze. I’ve been too hungry to notice much before now. The place is...festive? Kitschy might be a better word. The walls are covered in enormous sombreros and life-size cacti made out of paper mache. A mariachi band is tuning up in the corner, but the musicians look more like a country group who got lost on the way to their real gig. One guy is wearing a flannel underneath his traditional mariachi ensemble, four inches of shirt hanging below the hem of his suitcoat.
If I hadn’t already blasted my way through an entire basket of chips, I might suggest we try and find something a little more authentic. Except, the chips were really good. Clearly homemade. And the salsa was legit.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “So far, so good. But the music hasn’t started yet, so we’ll see how things go from here.”
Brody eyes the mariachi band and grins. “Are they in the right place?”
“I wondered the same thing.”
We fall into easy conversation as the meal progresses. Perry even livens up a bit, contributing to Brody’s story about their run-in with a bear a few days before.
“She wasn’t more than ten paces away from my tent,” Perry says, “and was even closer to Brody’s.”
“Close enough for me to smell her,” Brody says casually.
“Oh sure. Close enough to smell her. That’s not a big deal at all.” I shake my head. “Who are you, and what did you do with the guy who hid behind me when we ran into a raccoon in the apple orchard?”
Perry chuckles.
“Listen,” Brody says, folding his arms. “Raccoons have very scary teeth. And I swear that thing was hissing at us. It was ready to charge.”
“Which totally justifies you usingmeas a human shield.”
“Come on,” he says with an easy grin. “We both knew you were tougher than me. You probably still are.”
I eye his muscled torso. “I’m not so sure about that.”
He takes a long drink of water, and I watch his Adam’s Apple bob up and down with each swallow. Did he have one of those when we were in high school? I feel like the answer is no because it feels impossible that I could have been around him andnotnoticed.
Kristyn nudges me with her elbow and I startle out of my stupor. Was I staring?
Iwasstaring.
Oh, I am in trouble if I even think hisswallowingis sexy. What is happening to me?
I clear my throat. “So what are you going to do with the rest of your summer?” I push my half-eaten burrito into the center of the table. The thing was legit the size of a football. I’m proud I managed to finish as much as I did.
“First, I’m going to eat the rest of your burrito,” Brody says, fork poised over my plate. He lifts his eyebrows in question, and I nod, nudging it even closer to him. He takes an enormous bite, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me. Somehow, it feels both achingly familiar and like an entirely new thing.
We have done this so many times. Shared meals. Passed plates between us without a second thought.
“Once I’m off the trail, I’m working an eight-week season at Triple Mountain, then I’m back at the academy the second week of August.”
“Triple Mountain?”
He nods. “It’s a paddling school on the Green River.”
“Oh, right. The kayaking thing. I remember you mentioning something about that.”
“Back then it was just a hobby. Now, I’m teaching.”
