Page 11 of Forever By Morning

“I’m not making fun of you.”

She set her jaw and stared up at me with an arched brow.

I couldn’t resist rubbing her arms. “Okay, only a little. Elvis is my nephew. Zoe is engaged to a rockstar. Maybe you’ve heard of him? Ian Kagan.” At her blank look, I snorted. “All good. Rockstars are kind of like roaches around this orchard. My cousin Lila married one too. We’ve mostly gotten used to Nick. Laverne seems to like him for some reason. Good thing since he’s her son-in-law.”

“Oh. I vaguely know Ian’s name.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m more of a Taylor Swift girl.”

I lowered my voice. “I don’t think my brother-in-law can hear you. I think you’re good.”

She wrinkled her nose at me. “I like country too, actually.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me again.”

“Maybe. One of Ian’s best friends is Flynn Sheppard. He comes here to play a few shows every year at our concert stage. Usually sticks around to jam with us for a few days. Nice guy. Drinks us out of moonshine and whiskey every damn time.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“I know. We live a weird life. It’s quiet and boring most of the time then bam—crawling with rockstars during random holidays. We have become a pretty cool venue for the summer though.”

I was damn proud of what we’d built over the last decade. Especially since we’d almost lost it all a few times. But every time, I managed to pull us back from the brink with the help of my brothers. And now we were actually expanding.

Keeping that going was my only focus. It had to be.

I let my hands drop from her arms. “Let’s find you some clothes and a towel, huh?”

Chapter3

Helena

Think About It

I was just getting used to Beckett’s teasing and his face went all solemn and serious. Oh, he tried to play it off with a smile, but the mood had definitely shifted. I just wasn’t sure why.

I followed him into a bedroom. It wasn’t quite a nursery, but it wasn’t a guest room either. It had a bunk bed sort of set up, but the lower bunk was a full-sized bed. The top bunk crossed over the bed horizontally and was littered with stuffed animals, dinosaurs, and cars. A child’s drawings were taped up on the wall beside the top bed.

A comfy chair was tucked into the corner with another one of those fluffy afghans thrown over the back as if someone had just tossed it there after reading one of the books stacked on the table. It was a mix of children’s books and a few romance novels I recognized from my own digital library.

But the thing that set the room apart from a simple guest room was the mural above the chair. The corner had been painted like a tree with endless branches crawling out along two walls and inching over the ceiling. Some of the branches looked like octopus tentacles, some like a tree, and others like seaweed. It was whimsical and the hallmark of an artist I knew very well.

“Oh, my God. Your sister is Z. Manning?”

I had one of her paintings in my living room, for God’s sake. I’d been lucky to catch one of her gallery showings during a trip to California for one of the charities I worked on.

“Yeah, Zoe.” Beckett was digging into closet. He straightened with a pair of jeans and a few shirts in his hand. “Think one of these will work?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Most of Zoe’s stuff is stained with paint, unfortunately.” He held out the jeans. “Might be a little big on you, but better than that dress.”

“A burlap bag is better than this dress.”

“I probably have one of those in my ma’s orchid room.”

I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. I was learning Beckett had a dry sense of humor sometimes. I took the jeans and nearly sighed at the soft, worn material. Like my favorite pair at home. The ones I only wore when I knew my mother wasn’t around. I peeked at the size and internally winced. I appreciated that he thought my butt wouldn’t fit in them, but they might actually be a little tight.

Better than flashing my very pale backside as I had for the last hour.

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