Instead she surprised me by laughing at the incriminating smudges. She also laughed about the fact that the rest of her clothes were ruined by my dirty paw prints—everything but her impractical boots—and waved away my insistence to replace the outfit. She seemed to be delighted by her rumpled state, and her eyes burned brighter after she saw how disheveled she was.
“Hold your hand up.” In my peripheral vision I saw Cletus lift his palm toward me, suspending it between us.
I kept my eyes on Jessica, the sexy sway of her hips, how her long blonde hair was blown over her shoulder as she walked to Claire’s car. She held her head high, and the big smile she gave me from across the parking lot as she opened the passenger door to Claire McClure’s Chevy almost knocked me off my feet.
This girl was flaunting the fact we’d just made out in the supply room.
“I will not hold my hand up,” I said absentmindedly.
“Come on, I want to see who has bigger hands.”
“Shut up, Cletus. I’m not going to hold your hand.”
I thought about calling to her before she shut the door. I also thought about doing a victory lap around the garage. Instead I settled for watching Jess and Claire pull out of the lot, make a left, and disappear down the road.
“I don’t want to hold your hand, I want to compare our anthropic units.”
“Quit it.”
Beau stopped in front of us, his expression blank. “Cletus, you finished with that Toyota yet? We need to leave soon if we’re going to make it to Nashville today.”
Cletus’s attention moved between me and Beau; he let his hand drop. “Listen, I think it’d be best if we just cleared the air now before things progress any further with Duane and Catastrophic Engine Failure.”
“Who?”
“Miss James.”
I felt my eyes narrow on my older brother. I hoped he wasn’t about to say what I figured he was going to say. I was in no mood—not now, not ever—to discuss Jessica’s infatuation with Beau. An infatuation, I noted, that appeared to be over as of last Friday’s bonfire.
“No need.” Beau shook his head rather emphatically. “No air to clear.”
“Come on now. No use ignoring things.” Cletus was using his grandfather voice as he placed his greasy fingers on Beau’s shoulder. “I think we’d all feel better if everything were out in the open, I know I would.”
My stare shifted to my twin and I felt a spike of alarm. “What’s he talking about, Beau?”
“I don’t rightly know, Duane.”
Cletus put his other hand on my shoulder and nodded solemnly. “The truth is, Duane—and I know this might be hard to hear—but the fact of the matter is, and you know I think Catastrophic Engine Failure is a sufficient teacher of calculus, but that doesn’t negate the face that—”
“Just spit it out, Cletus!”
“Fine. We all hate Jessica’s brother, Jackson James.”
I blinked at Cletus, then Beau and I blinked at each other. As much as two people could read each other’s minds, Beau and I could. He and I shared a brief, silent conversation where the following was shared:
Both of us: Of course we hate Jackass James.
Me: Didn’t he give you a speeding ticket over the summer?
Beau: Yes.
Me: Pigfucker.
Beau: By the way, I’ve always known you had a thing for Jess, since we were kids. I would never do anything to get in the way of you two being together (or something along these lines).
Me: Thanks. I appreciate that.
Beau: But you owe me one, because she’s hot, funny, and sweet (or something like this).
Me: Fine. I owe you one.
Beau: Good. Glad we have that settled.
“Stop it.” Cletus snapped his fingers in front of our faces. “I hate it when you two mind-meld through your eyeballs.”
Beau sighed. “Cletus, I think we’re all clear on the fact that no one in our family has any patience for Jackson James. After that shit he pulled with our sister when they were teenagers—”
“And all the times he arrested Jethro for stealing cars,” I chimed in.
“In all fairness, though, Jethro likely did steal those cars,” Cletus added offhandedly.
“Jethro was never convicted,” I added unnecessarily, wanting to defend my oldest brother.
“Exactly.” Beau sounded exasperated. “Plus Jackson still brings it up all the time. I saw Jackson at The Wooden Plank two weeks ago and he made some dumbass remark about Jennifer Sylvester’s new BMW being stolen and whether Jethro had been investigated as a suspect.”
“And that’s just him being a douchebag because Jethro has been straight-laced for over four years, and Jackson won’t let it go. Plus, Jethro hates bananas,” I added unnecessarily. Everyone knew Jennifer Sylvester had a banana cake in her front seat when the car was stolen. I could feel myself getting worked up and knew Beau was feeling similarly irritated.