Truth or Beard (Winston Brothers #1)

As I stood, I decided if Beau’s eyes were the summer sky, and Duane’s volleyed between glittering sapphires and a swirling tempest, Billy Winston’s eyes were the color of glaciers. Even his warm smile couldn’t quite warm his gaze.

“How are you this evening, Jessica?” It had been a while since I’d spoken to Billy, so I’d forgotten he’d lost quite a bit of his eastern Tennessee drawl. He almost sounded like a generic person from the United States, what most would consider lacking in discernible accent. Well, generic except his voice held a soothing, melodic quality when he spoke.

“Just fine. And how are you, Billy?”

“I’m well.” His gaze drifted to the empty seat next to mine. “Is Claire here with you tonight?”

“Yes. We came together. But I think she’s up at the front with her father-in-law, helping with the donations.”

He nodded, his gaze growing sharper in a way I couldn’t help but notice. I thought it was remarkably odd, almost like he was frustrated.

But then whatever it was promptly vanished and was replaced with an unaffected air of controlled politeness. “How are things at the high school?”

“Fine…real good, actually. We now have a system worked out for all the kids bussed in for calculus.”

“All thanks to this little lady.”

I turned my head just as Kip Sylvester, the principal of the high school and therefore my boss, shouldered his way through the shuffling crowd. Next to him was his daughter Jennifer, who I would forever think of as Queen of the Banana Cakes.

This was not an uncharitable thought on my part. She’d literally won Best Banana Cake at the county fair for the last six years and worked for her momma’s bakery making the renowned cakes. Add to this her pale complexion, pale yellow hair, and bright yellow dress with brown polka dots, she might as well have been a banana herself.

“Thanks to Miss James, we’re seeing lots of progress in our STEM numbers already.” Kip Sylvester gave me an approving nudge.

It was somewhat strange, thinking of Kip Sylvester as my boss. I’d known him since I was two. He’d been the principal when I was in high school, too. I gave Jennifer a small smile of greeting, which she returned with sunny brilliance. But then I watched as she turned her gaze to Billy; it grew noticeably bemused and dreamy.

“That’s good news,” Billy offered benignly, pairing his statement with a head nod in my direction.

“Are you singing tonight, Mr. Winston?” Jennifer asked prettily, in a soft, sweet voice. Sweet as banana cake.

“I am. Or, I guess I was.” Billy turned and glanced over his shoulder. “It depends on whether Cletus is staying for the next set. We drove together.”

“Oh, I hope we’re not too late to hear you sing. I think I’d die if I missed it.”

Billy’s expression grew a bit perplexed, maybe even a little rigid.

My boss tried to cover his grimace with an indulgent smile—which only served to highlight his grimace. “What a silly thing to say, Jennifer,” he admonished his daughter, chuckling lightly and looking at Billy as though to apologize.

I felt a pang of empathy as Jennifer’s face fell and her cheeks tinged pink. “I’m sorry, I’m always saying silly things I guess. I must’ve overdone it today in the bakery.”

“See now, that’s a great excuse. I usually blame all the silly things I say on syphilis.” I started to laugh at my own joke before even finishing it. However, after seven seconds of dismayed stares and silence, I realized that maybe STD humor was lost on this crowd.

I reminded myself what I thought was hilarious, like my ironic sexy Gandalf costume, was often the cause of censure and elicited abject horror from others. I was always going to be a circle peg in a world of squares.

But then I heard someone laugh, or more precisely try not to laugh. I twisted at the waist and nearly lost my breath because directly behind me was Duane Winston. He was most definitely trying his best to contain errant laughter. His sapphire eyes were glittering down at me.

And then I really did lose my breath because, if I wasn’t mistaken, Duane was giving me a hot look.

His gaze moved from mine to his brother’s, then to Jennifer and Principal Sylvester’s as he handed out customary greetings to the small circle.

I hadn’t at all recovered by the time his attention swung back to me. “Jessica, do you have a spare moment?” he asked in a low voice.

I nodded.

“Please excuse us,” he muttered.

Without sparing a goodbye glance for our companions, Duane wrapped his long fingers around my upper arm and tugged me toward the open door.