“Jess, Duane still races cars down at The Canyon and he’s still undefeated—mostly because he takes crazy chances and fear doesn’t seem to register. Over the summer he killed a rattlesnake at the community center.”
“So?”
“So, he walked right over to it, stepped on its head, then reached for it with his bare hands.”
“Then he’s stupid.”
“No. Lord knows he’s no fool. He knew what he was doing, he just doesn’t seem to have a healthy fear of deadly snakes, or of getting killed at the drag races either. Beau is the safer choice. I can understand how you might’ve been drawn to Duane all along, but—”
“No. No. Just no.”
“They’re identical.”
“Looking. They’re identical looking. They’re not identical people.”
“Yeah, but by your own admission, you actually knew Duane growing up. You knew about him, you spent time with him. Yet your crush was on Beau?”
“He was the nice one,” I grumbled.
Claire laughed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe he was the safe one.”
I turned away from her and back to the brothers in question. They were leaning into the hood of a vintage car, their red heads obscured; however, I had an excellent view of their backsides.
I huffed with indignation, not liking Claire’s re-writing of my history (mostly because it made sense). “Listen, Dr. Phil, I don’t know why we’re even talking about this yet. Neither of us have had enough wine for this conversation. Although I could sit in this car and ogle Duane Winston’s fine ass all day from afar, I need to find out why my truck is here and what’s to be done about it.”
“I agree.”
“Good.” I nodded, reaching for the door handle, finally having enough incentive-impetus to eject myself from my seat.
“I, too, could sit here all day and ogle Duane Winston’s fine ass from afar.” Claire said this just as my feet hit the ground. Before I could administer my reproachful glare, she was out of the car with her door shut, striding purposefully toward the twins.
“Hey, boys!” she called immediately, drawing their attention and giving me no time to prepare my game face.
My steps faltered as they looked over their shoulders, Duane’s glare catching on Claire first then flickering to me. His expression didn’t change, not precisely. Rather, I had all of his focus. Once his eyes latched on to me they didn’t waver.
Apprehension warred with anticipation, and both caused a lump to form in my throat. Try as I might, I was unable to hold Duane’s gaze and I looked away, preferring instead Beau’s lazy, easy smile as he grinned at both Claire and me with straightforward, undemanding affability.
“Hello, beautiful ladies,” Beau drawled, pulling a rag from his pocket and wiping his hands.
“Hey, Beau. Duane.” Claire stopped about four feet from where they loitered in front of the car. I saw her dip her head toward Duane as I came to stand next to her.
“Hi, Claire,” Duane said, and just the sound of his voice made me feel like someone had lit a match in my belly, the warmth spreading to my fingertips in a shock. My eyes flickered to his, then away. He was still looking at me, all intense and focused, but otherwise expressionless.
He was unsettling. I was unsettled.
“Hey…guys,” I said lamely, like a lame person, to the patch on Duane’s coveralls that told me his name was Duane. Determined, I pushed past my uneasiness and cleared my throat, opting to speak to Beau instead.
The irony was not lost on me.
“I couldn’t help but notice that my truck is parked out front.”
Beau’s eyes were the color of the summer sky as he regarded me, his mouth pulled to the side in a plainly amused smirk. “Yep.”
I couldn’t help but return the smile as his were still infectious. “Last I knew, the truck was still parked at the community center with catastrophic engine troubles.”
“Not troubles, sweetheart.” Beau’s tone was gentle and replete with sympathy. “You’ve still got catastrophic engine failure. You need a new engine.”
I stuffed my hands in the back pockets of my khaki skirt and shifted on my feet. “I know that. But I don’t have the money right now to get a new engine.”
“We figured as much,” Duane cut in, stepping forward so he was shoulder to shoulder with his brother and directly in front of me. “We’d like to buy the truck from you, if you’re willing.”
I waited two seconds before lifting my gaze to Duane’s, needing time to gather my faculties. When I met his stare I was glad I’d taken the time to prepare. If Beau’s eyes were the tranquil summer sky, then Duane’s were a tempest at sea—a stormy aquamarine.
“Duane,” I said unnecessarily, and a little dreamily, on an exhaled breath.
His attention drifted over my face and his non-expression softened. “Hi, Jessica.”
My heart gave a little leap. Even though his features were completely absent a smile, I felt one—a blasted shy, wistful one—tug at my lips. “Hi, Duane.”