Beard Science (Winston Brothers Book 3) (22 page)

I indicated with my head toward a graciously smiling Sienna. “Sienna Diaz.”

Billy’s gaze moved over me. “What about her?”

“How does she do it? Everywhere she goes, people—strangers—want to talk to her. I would hate it.”

“Would you?” Billy seemed surprised.

Beau nudged me with his elbow, obviously having been eavesdropping. “What about all that publicity your momma arranges for the Banana Cake Queen? Don’t you dress in costume and do appearances? And don’t you have a million followers, or something crazy like that?”

“The Banana Cake Queen has just over a million followers on Instagram. Jennifer Sylvester has zero.” I pushed my pulled pork around on my plate.

Beau nudged me again, this time with his shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, but you are the Banana Cake Queen.”

“She doesn’t look like the Banana Cake Queen.”

I lifted my eyes to the speaker of this comment and found Roscoe looking at me funny.

“Hey, Jenn,” he said, still looking at me funny. “How are things?”

Other than polite hellos early in the evening, I hadn’t spoken to Roscoe at all so far. But I’d caught him sending curious glances my way.

“Things are good, Roscoe. How are your things?” 

“My things are great. To tell you the truth, I didn’t realize who you were until we sat down for dinner. I didn’t recognize you at all.” He squinted at me, then Billy, then Beau. He also smiled. “So which one of these jokers brought you?”

“I did.” Billy administered a no-teeth grin to his youngest brother.

“Technically, we both did.” Beau nudged me a third time, giving me a conspiratorial side-eye.

“Is that so . . .?” Roscoe leaned back in his seat.

I didn’t get a chance to respond because movement at the other end of the table had us all glancing up from our conversation.

Claire had stood and was passing out hugs, to Jethro first, then Sienna. She turned to the rest of the table. I thought for a moment she was planning to go around and say goodbye to us, one at a time, but her movements halted suddenly when her eyes crashed into Billy’s.

I sensed him go stiff at my side, heard his quick intake of breath. Almost immediately, she tore her gaze away.

I fought the urge to lay a comforting hand on his arm. Emotion rolled off the big man, wild and reckless and so very sad. I just wanted to hug him.

“I have to get going, y’all. I have an early morning.” Her smile was wide, though it looked a little rattled to me.

This news was met with various sounds of disappointment, protests, and well-wishes. She waved and blew a kiss to Jessica, who acted like she caught it in her hand and stuffed it down her bra. This made everyone laugh.

Claire also laughed, then turned, striding purposefully away from the table. I watched her go, feeling both happy and sad.

I wish . . .

I wished I’d made an effort to know Claire before she left Green Valley. She was definitely someone worth knowing.

“What is it, Cletus?” Billy asked sharply, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I glanced between the two brothers and moved my twisting fingers to my lap; it was the first time Cletus had looked in my general vicinity since the backstage sex pow-wow and the subsequent ravenous look.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cletus shook his head slowly.

“I guarantee, you don’t.” Billy’s response was gruff and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.

“No. I do. And you’re wrong.”

Billy’s throat worked as he swallowed, his glare piercing and hot. “It’s none of your business, Cletus.”

“Well, you’re right about that. It’s none of my business. It’s your business. But you’re still wrong. You can’t win a woman with brute force, or wishing, or begging—not that you were planning on begging.”

Billy’s eyes flashed and he ground his teeth, the muscle at his jaw and temple jumping.

“You can’t wear her down.” Cletus softened his words, like he was softening a blow.

I realized with some surprise that our immediate tablemates had turned their attention away; Roscoe, Jessica, and Duane had their heads together, and I heard Duane mention Italy. Beau was studiously picking through his rib dinner. Everyone else was too far away to hear Cletus and Billy’s conversation. The restaurant noise from the first floor masked their exchange.

I took a page from Beau’s book and redirected my eyes to my plate.

“Then what do you suggest?” Billy sounded confrontational, his low voice laced with frustration. “What would you do?”

“Lay it all out. Tell her everything.”

Billy’s gaze focused on where Claire had disappeared. Then, unexpectedly, his eyes moved to me. I saw him in my peripheral vision and I felt his glare. I held very still.

“Would you, Cletus?” Billy asked, his attention drifted back to his brother. “Would you lay it all out? Tell her everything?”

Cletus was quiet a moment before saying, “When you’re certain, when it’s the heart and mind you’re after, then you lay it all out. But if it’s empty, just physical, then there’s nothing to say.”

“Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.”

― John Steinbeck

~Cletus~

“Okay, now that
it’s just us three, I want to know.” Jessica turned in her seat and lifted her eyebrows at me. It was keen eyebrow lift, so I knew the next words out of her mouth were going to be a question. “What’s going on with Jennifer Sylvester and Billy? Or is she with Beau? Or what’s going on?”

I met Duane’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He was driving my new car back from Nashville. Jess sat next to him on the bench seat, and I was in the back being chauffeured. The others, including the lady in question, had already departed for Green Valley on Sienna’s plane.

Duane was—by far—the best driver in the family. I suspected he was the best driver in Tennessee. Whenever I needed a fast four-wheeled escape, he was my guy. Which meant when he left for Italy and other grand capering, I would be without a getaway driver.

A depressing thought.

Duane cleared his throat, shifted a bit in his seat, but said nothing. He quickly returned his attention to the road.

He was no help.

Or, perhaps he was also curious.

“Come on, Cletus.” Jessica reached over the seat and pushed my knee with her fingertips. “Am I going to have to guess? Don’t make me guess.”

“She’s not attached to either Billy or Beau.”

“Are you sure?” Jessica pushed. “Because Beau and she seemed mighty friendly.”

I moved my attention to the window at my side rather than allow Jessica to see my displeasure at this news. Truth was, I’d been preoccupied by thoughts of Jennifer for weeks.

I
was . . . attracted to her.

Physically.

A lot.

Her image haunted both my day and night dreams. Most were of the dirty variety, because the woman’s body drove me to distraction. But some fantasies were just flashes of us being together, talking and touching. Always touching.

I’d been fixating on her since our last lesson. Matters weren’t helped by her unexpected delivery of the most delicious muffins ever conceived in the history of muffins.

“Beau is friendly with everybody.” I forced calm into my voice and schooled my expression before turning back to Jess.

“Then what was she doing here today? And the other day at the house?”

“She’s a family friend.”

The woman definitely had an effect on me. Her voodoo had me doing and saying things without premeditated forethought. We had conversations. We spoke of events and our lives. I was
sharing
things about myself without conducting a mental chess game or deliberating how to best leverage information she communicated for my benefit.

I wanted to be with her, spend time in her company for the sake of her company—a sentiment that was both novel and entirely unwelcome.

Jessica’s eyes narrowed on me. “Since when?”

“Our grandfathers were friendly. So, I suppose she’s been a family friend since Don Donner and Grandfather Oliver first met.”

Jess huffed impatiently and smacked my knee. “You’re being evasive, Cletus. And when you’re being evasive, it means you don’t want to talk about something. And when you don’t want to talk about something, it usually means that something is really interesting.”

I nodded somberly. “What a fascinating theory.”

Jessica eyeballed me for a stretch and I met her meddlesome glare with an easy one of my own.

But then Duane—the turncoat—said, “I think Cletus is helping Jennifer.”

“Duane.” I suffused my tone with warning and shook my head.

He refused to meet my eye in the mirror, instead subtlely smirking and adding, “Billy took her out a few weeks ago, a practice date or something. She’s never had a boyfriend, I don’t think. You’ve seen how her parents have her locked up like Rapunzel. My guess is Cletus is helping her figure shit out, so she can break out from under her parents’ crazy.”

I gaped at the back of my brother’s head. “Well hello, Garrison Gossip.”

He shrugged. “We’ll be in Italy next month, Cletus. Who are we going to tell? Besides, maybe Jess can help.”

“I want to help!” Jessica bounced in her seat, giving me a giant, pleading smile. “Oh please, let me help. I’ve always thought she was so cute and sweet. It’s a shame her momma dresses her like a banana. But she’s, what? Twenty-three now?”

“Twenty-two,” I corrected.

“Twenty-two is too long to live under the thumb of her parents. It’s about time she broke free. I could teach her so much. Please, Cletus? Please?” Jessica folded her fingers under her chin and flapped her eyelashes at me.

I frowned at Jessica and her unexpected offer. I didn’t like unexpected offers as a rule, but Jessica was good people. And she definitely had a backbone.

“I’m not saying yes,” I held up a cautionary finger between us, “but, if I did, what would you teach her first?”

Jessica’s eyes moved up and to the right, as though she was retrieving information stored in some secret woman-center of her brain.

Meanwhile, I was thinking on my hike with Jennifer down to the Yuchi stream. Telling her about my half-brother hadn’t been planned. It just . . . happened. Her father’s affair, his disregard for his marriage vows, reminded me of my own adulterous father.

The two men were a pair of assholes.

“Don’t freak out,” Jessica ordered, finally bringing her gaze back to mine.

“Why would I freak out?”

“Because, honestly, the first thing I would do is get that woman a vibrator.”

The car descended into a stunned silence. At least, I was stunned and I was pretty sure Duane was stunned. But then Duane barked a laugh. Jessica didn’t laugh. She smiled hopefully. I didn’t laugh. I was plagued with sudden and vivid images of Jennifer pleasuring herself.

This suggestion was almost as bad as Claire’s heartfelt appeal earlier in the evening—that Jennifer should seek love rather than experience—as well as the visuals that conversation conjured.

Dammit.

“Just hear me out.” Jess waved her hands between us, as though telling me to simmer down. “When I was a teenager and didn’t know what the hell I wanted, looking back I wish someone had given me a vibrator.”

“I would have given you more than that,” Duane mumbled.

“Oh good Lord,” I said on a breath, rolling my eyes.

Jess slid her attention to Duane, her grin growing sly, then brought it back to me. “I’m serious. Girls don’t know what’s up. My momma never talked to me about it, so I guarantee Diane Sylvester hasn’t said a word to Jennifer either. That girl was homeschooled, so she likely knows even less. And, her daddy checks the search history on her phone and laptop all the time. He used to brag about it to us teachers. I’m convinced that man is a sociopath. The Sylvesters make my parents look progressive.”

I didn’t find this news surprising. The main difference between my father and Kip Sylvester was that Darrell never pretended to be a pious saint. Jenn’s father, however, spread his holier-than-thou manure all over the place. My momma once told me—with the fire and ire—that Kip often misquoted the Bible to keep his kids under control.

Jennifer and Isaac had deserved better than growing up with their father’s judgmental hypocrisy. And their momma deserved better than the man’s betrayal.

“Your parents are very nice.” I leaned forward in my seat. “I’ve always found the sheriff to be reasonable.”

“He likes you, Cletus.” Duane glanced at me then back to the road. “Jess’s daddy thinks the world of you.”

I was surprised by this information, not because the sheriff ever treated me poorly, quite the opposite. He always treated me equitably, just like he treated everyone.

An odd twinge of guilt struck me between the ribs. I’d been funneling evidence out of Sheriff James’s station for months, replanting it in strategic locations along with forged listings of money laundering and loan sharking activities.

In my defense, the lists were an accurate accounting of the motorcycle club’s actual money laundering and loan sharking activities; but the Wraiths were irritatingly disordered. Their record keeping was unsystematic. So I’d recorded the details in an effort to make the club appear more organized. The stolen evidence just tied everything together in a nice big obstruction-of-justice bow.

On its own, if I hadn’t interfered, the evidence stolen might’ve led to the arrest of several members of the Iron Wraiths. And those arrests would have been minor wins for the sheriff. But the wins would’ve been fleeting, because none of the evidence would have led to the club’s downfall.

I had my eye on the big picture. Helping the club appear more organized in their criminal endeavors would lead to their destruction, because RICO charges didn’t just remove the head of an organization. RICO charges brought everyone down.

When I was done, everyone was going to prison for a long, long time.

Every. Single. Member.

Even Isaac . . .
This realization gave me pause.

“Cletus?”

I refocused my attention, seeing that Jessica’s pleading smile hadn’t dimmed.

“You might think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I’m right. And you’re smart. So you know I’m right. Give a man a fish and you’ve fed him for a day, but—”

“Give a woman a vibrator, and she’ll orgasm for life. I get it.” I waved Jessica off, looking out the window to my left, while I debated her advice.

It felt like a big step. I didn’t want to frighten the woman with sex toys. “I don’t know, Jess. I have no idea how she’ll react. Put yourself in her shoes.”

“You want to help her? Empowering her is key.”

“I know that.” I did know it. That’s why the second homework had been for her to make changes, but only changes she wanted to make.

Jess continued to push. “She’s different already. How she’s dressing, wearing her hair, speaking up for herself. And that’s wonderful, it’s great to see. She’s taking control of her life with baby steps.”

“But me showing up with a genital stimulation device doesn’t seem like a baby step.”

“Then let me do it.”

I glanced at her askance. “What?”

“Let me do it. You bring her to Big Todd’s and I’ll walk her around. She can even choose the color.”

I groaned, a new and vast smorgasbord of lurid images assaulted my psyche: Jennifer standing in the bathroom using her toy; Jennifer standing in the bathroom using her toy in front of the mirror; Jennifer standing in the bathroom using her toy in front of the mirror while I stood behind her and . . .

I groaned again.

Forget whether or not Jennifer could handle the introduction of a vibrator. The real question was, could I?

***

“What are you
planning to do with that?”

“Pardon?”

I glanced at Shelly. The woman stood before me, arms crossed, sharp gaze moving between my face and my hands.

“The torque wrench. What are you doing with it?”

I glanced at the socket wrench in my hand and discovered Shelly was right. It wasn’t a socket wrench. I’d mistakenly grabbed the torque wrench.

Dammit.

I needed to focus.

The last two days had been excruciating. Not only had Jessica been a plague, but the idea seed she’d planted in my brain took on a life of its own.

I spent the whole drive back to Green Valley Saturday night thinking about Jennifer. Wondering if she’d gone to the bakery to prep for the next day, or if she’d gone home. I’d tortured myself with images of her slipping into bed. What would she wear? What did she dream about? Was she getting enough sleep? Was she gardening in overalls? What was she gardening? Had she gone hiking again?

It rained on Sunday, and I knew she liked reading while it rained. Had she read a book? What book? Did she like it? What did she think about it?

Jessica showed up after church on Sunday and hadn’t quit her harassing until I’d agreed to her plan. But I hadn’t agreed because of her pushing, I’d agreed because it was a good plan. It was time for Jennifer to broaden her horizons. It was time for her to be pushed out of her comfort zone. This was a big step.

But the sooner Jennifer Sylvester stood on her own, the sooner I could remove myself from her life and establish normalcy and calm in mine.

I was still fixating.

Meanwhile, important things—like nailing the coffin shut on the Iron Wraiths, the arrangements for Jethro’s wedding in two weeks, Thanksgiving, and preparing for my boar hunt in Texas—required my attention. Not to mention my regular work, various and sundry projects, fund management of my momma’s trust, ensuring Shelly was adequately trained and prepared for Duane’s departure while managing Beau’s temper, and all the other irons in the fire.

I tossed the torque wrench to the toolbox where it made an angry clatter. “We were just visiting.”

“You were visiting with your torque wrench?” Shelly asked deadpan.