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Because I’ve never experienced a damn thing.
But at the same time, I’ve experienced more in the past few weeks than I have in years in Heatstroke.
“Ugh.” I get out of bed, draw back my curtains so that sunlight streams into my tiny, cozy room, then head out of the door and across the hall for a shower.
The morning passes in a haze of indecision and thoughts about Carter. About how he makes me feel, about how he touches me, about how we spent last night together, curled up on my sofa, reading together, my legs in his lap.
I prepare a lasagna, cover the dish with foil, then drive over to Ganny’s house. A lot of the storm damage has been repaired, but there are a couple of stores and homes in Heatstroke that are either under construction or need work. I roll down my windows, grateful that my car doesn’t smell like a mushroom patch anymore. It’s a perfect summer’s day, the sky blue, the grass green and lush, and Ganny’s house, all shiplap, with its porch swing drifting in the breeze, is the picture of home.
Home. I park my car and gnaw on the inside of my cheek.
Savage’s motorcycle is parked out front, and my heart skips and flutters. He’s already here. He’s inside. With my family. Waiting for me.
Run before you lose your heart.
But that battle’s already been lost. He has my heart, and he won’t return my feelings. It will be too much, too soon for him.
The screen door bangs open before I can get out of the car, and Belle comes down the stairs, taking them expertly in high heels. “Ugh!” She lets out a frustrated cry, balling up her fists.
“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” Leo saunters down the stairs behind her. My brother is built like a house. He’s even taller than Cash, closing in on Savage, and he’s got a rugby player’s build. He’s also a playboy and an asshole, and he’s wearing a shit-eating grin as he walks up behind Belle. “You can’t take a joke, can you?”
“You,” Belle says, spinning toward him. “You better watch your tongue, because I am not going to take this. We’re meant to be keeping this professional, and you are making that very difficult.”
Leo towers over her, he strokes his jaw, his eyes glinting with excitement. He’s got our mother’s green eyes, and they’ve always made him look like a bird of prey. “Maybe you should stop talking about my tongue, then.”
Belle pokes him in the chest. “You’re going out of your way to make my life hell, and you know it.”
“I would never try to make your life hell,” Leo says, still grinning. “That’s just a happy side-effect of being me.”
I can almost see the steam coming out of Belle’s ears. She hates fighting. She hates any kind of friction, and my brother is a professional at getting under people’s skin.
It’s why he’s always getting in trouble. He loves to compete. He loves to win. And he doesn’t understand what it means to back down.
“Can’t you be serious for just a second?” Belle asks, still with her finger pressed into his right pec. “Just for a god damn second?”
“Language, Sweetheart.” He catches her wrist and encircles it. “You got to watch that dirty mouth of yours in public. I’m meant to be keeping my image clean, remember?”
Oh, boy. This is about to go south fast.
“I’m not the problem,” Belle says.
Leo releases her and steps back, brushing his hand through his dark hair. It’s shorter on the sides and he’s added yet another tattoo to the collection on his arms. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m the problem.” He’s still smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t kid around with you again, all right, Miss Simms? We’ll keep it as professional as you need.” And then he turns and heads off back inside, still with that swagger.
Belle’s breathing like she’s run a marathon.
I grab the lasagna and get out of the car. “Are you okay?”
“Christ on a cracker,” she says, jumping on the spot. “You scared me.”
“I’ve never seen you lose your temper like that.”
Belle presses her hair back from her forehead. “It’s so bad. I don’t usually act like this. Your brother is driving me crazy. Like… I want to quit crazy.”
“You know what they say.” I join her and give her a sideways hug. “There’s a thin line between love and?—”
“Pure, unadulterated hatred and irritation?”
“That’s how they etched it onto the side of a Pharaoh's tomb somewhere.”
