Page 4 of Summer Storm
The throaty rumble of a V8 engine turning off the county road and onto our winding driveway, dampens the ambient noise from a ballgame playing on the radio in the RV and covers the hushed sounds of the breeze moving through the treetops. The noise distracts me from my thoughts and the play of golden sunlight casting elongated shadows across the mountain vista I’ve been enjoying.
PB and Jay, who are laying at my feet, lift their heads alertly. A blue truck comes into view as it crests the hill in front of the house. The driver pulls up next to our vehicles and climbs out as Nolan steps out of the RV.
My pulse flutters and then bursts into a galloping beat. Oh, my, it’s Aaron. What is he doing here? I got the feeling he wasn’t going to ignore the situation between us, but I never thought he’d be so bold as to show up here.
Horrified, I glance down at the stained shirt I’m wearing and brush at the dried mud in the shape of a paw print on my left boob. Good, Lord, I was not expecting company. I watch avidly as he and Nolan exchange words. After a few moments Nolan, points at me and they both look my way and grin.Crap.
Aaron reaches back into his truck and pulls out a good-sized ice chest before they head my way. Nolan lets out a piercing whistle. Jericho, with Rudy in tow, steps out from around the far corner of the house and ambles toward us. Can we say paranoid andover-protective? What does he think I’m going to do when they aren’t here?
“Hey.”
I roll my eyes at my cautious brothers and sit a little straighter in my lawn chair, hopefully disguising the little shiver the sexy timber Aaron’s voice evokes.
“Hey.” God, I sound like a twit.
Aaron’s lips quirk, but Nolan howls with laughter. My face flames when I realize I criticized myself out loud. Aaron gets points for ignoring my awkward self. Nolan does not. I shoot him a quelling glance while Aaron’s goes about placing the ice chest on the ground next to one of the round upended chunks of log, the boys have set up for their lumberjack competition.
“Been smelling your campfire for the last couple of nights, thought I’d bring over a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift.” Lifting the lid on the chest, he delves inside and then offers Nolan and Jericho each a bottle of beer. Never ones to turn down free beer, they both accept, of course.
To me, he holds out a bottle of golden cider from one of the local taphouses and raises his brow. When I nod, he twists off the cap and hands it over, watching as I take the first sip. I smile my approval and then take a longer sip.
“That’s one of Jorie and Jolie’s favorites. They aren’t much for drinking beer; I thought you might feel the same way.” His eyesdarken as I slick my tongue over my bottom lip catching a drop of the fruity brew.
“It’s delicious. Thank you.” I wonder if he’s thinking about the bottle of Moscato we shared back in December. Blushing, I cast around for something else to focus on. I’m thrilled and more than slightly distracted by the fit of his denim jeans when he bends over the ice chest again.
Good, Lord have mercy. Instead of ogling the poor man, I focus on the brown butcher’s paper-wrapped package and a half dozen extendable roasting sticks he lifts from the cooler.
“Can’t have fire without meat.” Aaron announces as he straightens and thrusts the package into the air like it’s a trophy or something.
“Fuck, yeah.”
“Now, you’re talk’in!” Nolan and Jericho voice their approval.
Men, I swear.It’s not like they’re starving or haven’t eaten; we finished supper less than two hours ago.
Nolan eagerly throws another log on to the fire as Aaron passes off the roasting sticks to Jericho and then rips into the packaging of what turns out to be hot dogs, and not the mass-produced kind you have to choke down either, but the good ones that are only found at a quality butcher’s shop. Yum.
He eyes Rudy, who’s ever an opportunist when it comes to treats and snacks, as he places his fare on the log seating. I roll my eyes as Nolan and Jericho converge on those hot dogs like they’re wolves who haven’t eaten in a solid month. Before you can say, ‘come and get it,’ they each have a stick with two hot dogs on them and are holding them over the fire.
That’s when my older brothers turn from grown-ass men into twelve-year-old boys and start making raunchy wiener jokes, each more embarrassing than the last. I drop my burning face into my palms. I wonder if I can sneak away and hide out in the RV? I’d still probably be able to hear them as loud and obnoxious as they’re being.
“I brought dessert too…” Aaron offers softly, as Dumb and Dumber carry on, “…but I think just maybe you should have to pay a tax to get it.”He holds a bag of marshmallows out to me. I pause just my fingers touch the bag.
“Oh, really? And how much is this tax?” My fingers brush against his in a barely there feathery touch that warms me more easily than the coals and burning logs laid out in the pit.
“Not much at all, all you need to do is agree to be my date at the rodeo in Missoula this Friday.”
“Umm…I don’t know…” I hesitate. I mean, I’ve had sex with him, but I really don’t know him. Do I really want to dive into…”
“I have chocolate too.” He sweetens the deal by balancing a whole bag of Hershey’s snack-size chocolate bars and a box ofgraham crackers on top of the bag of marshmallows. My resolve melts. No one else has ever come close to putting this much effort into taking me out. I start to agree but before I can get the words out of my mouth, my crazy-ass brothers strike again.
“I’ll go!”
“I’d love to.”
Chapter 5
Blood, sweat, and tears
