Authors: Jeanette Lynn
Ephraim gave me a slow grin and stepped over Thatcher, but Thatcher grabbed his leg at the last minute and yanked him down with him.
They tussled around on the ground for a bit, and I shook my head sadly.
Oh, brother.
Brothers,
I should say.
I just rolled my eyes at them openly.
If they're all like this
, I thought worriedly,
then just shoot me now!
Turns out there is
some
saving grace in all of this madness.
Sawyer and Bowen, the other brothers I had yet to meet, seemed relatively normal compared to Ephraim and Thatcher when they showed up for lunch.
I'd immediately been ushered into the kitchen by the jackaloons, Ephraim and Thatcher, not even ten seconds in, where they’d begged profusely for me to make them something to eat.
Sucker that I happen to be, I took pity on them and slapped together a huge bowl of pasta salad and some sandwiches from the leftover meat they had from a pot roast in there.
They were very grateful, but made it a point to repeatedly mention how much they hate sandwiches and why.
Oh, well… I’d tried, right?
Sometimes there is just no pleasing people!
It's not like they had too much else in there at the moment!
Want better food? Go shopping!
I will definitely be needing to make a trip to the store in the near future, but first I need to eat, shower, sleep, and settle in, preferably in that order.
Two large, barrel-chested men had entered the house at about the same time the food got done and they didn't hesitate to join us.
Introductions were quickly made and the two older men didn't mention anything being off or odd about me, physically or otherwise.
It was rather nice.
So, ha ha!
It made me relax a little more and I didn't feel as defensive as I had initially.
Everything went fine until Thatcher opened his fat yap and gossiped like an old bitty, yammering on about what I like to call ‘Ephraim's folly’.
Of course, Sawyer was quick to apologize for their combined stupidity-
of which I cracked up at
- and also point out that Thatcher and Ephraim were the two younger brothers, as if that wasn’t obvious enough from one glimpse at the two older, linebacker looking, lumberjack men in front of me.
It was nice to feel defended, though.
Sawyer, the second oldest of the Harrison brothers, had long, thick blonde hair that he kept tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and a goat, minus the ‘T’.
His deep brown eyes were full of warmth and open friendliness as he’d introduced himself and chatted me up.
Point for Sawyer for slapping Thatcher upside the head for trying to touch me
once again
.
Personal space, Thatcher, ever heard of it?
Bowen, the oldest brother, was dark haired and quiet, but it didn’t strike me as a brooding sort of quiet, and I found his silence soothing compared to Ephraim’s rambling and Thatcher’s constant commentary.
Bowen had thick, dark brown hair, so short he looked almost bald, but it worked for him.
He looks good and I'm not ashamed to say I noticed.
He strikes me as a very serious type, with the sort of grim look about him he seems to always be sporting
- but that’s just my initial impression.
I don’t think Bowen smiles all that much
, I observed as I surreptitiously studied him.
His hazel, greenish-blue eyes seemed to brim with intelligence, and I was intrigued by them, tempted to try and get him to talk to me, just to see what he had going on in that brain of his.
“What are ya gonna make for dinner?” Thatcher asked excitedly, leading me towards the kitchen again once everyone had finished eating, snapping me out of my mental replay and back to the present.
“Can’t I set my bag down first?”
I sighed heavily and groaned internally.
He's lost his mind if he thinks I'm gonna hop on that right this minute.
Man's a damn bottomless pit!
He had four helpings of pasta and two sandwiches.
Where the hell does he put it all?
“Yeah, Thatch, she just got here,” Sawyer put in and intercepted me, steering me towards the stairs.
Thank you, Mr. Common Sense.
At least one of them has some!
“Are all the rooms upstairs?” I asked Sawyer curiously.
Ruthie isn’t made for climbing stairs anymore and she won’t be doing much of that when she recovers after her heart surgery either, especially if I have any say.
“No,” he answered, stopping at the first step.
He looked back at me. “Ruthie stayed in the guest room downstairs, across from the office.”
“What room were you going to have me use up there?” I used my head to gesture at the upstairs.
“Oh, we figured we could put you in the room between Thatcher’s and Ephraim’s. No one uses it since we put the gym in the basement, so it’s kind of like our guest room now.”
Gee, what a toughie.
Privacy downstairs in Ruthie’s room or a room conveniently placed between ‘grabby hands’ and ‘jabber jaws’…
“Can’t I just stay
there?”
“In my room?” Ephraim blurted, like I’d lost my mind.
“What?!” I laughed, unable to believe he’d lost the thread of conversation so thoroughly.
“No, you dunce. She meant Ruthie’s old room. Why the hell would she wanna shack up with
you,
anyways? You’re still wet behind the ears. If she wanted to shack up with anyone, it would be
me
,” Thatcher remarked confidently, winking at me, his brows wiggling suggestively.
“Dream on, blondie.” I snorted and rolled my eyes.
Sawyer laughed and pushed Thatcher and Ephraim out of the way as they hurled insults at each other over my head, squabbling to their hearts’ content.
He led me towards a hallway just beyond the kitchen, and I let out a sigh of relief, the sounds of Thatcher and Ephraim fading, the deeper into the house he led me.
“Nice, huh? The quiet,” Bowen asked suddenly from behind me.
Startled, I jumped.
When did
he
get here?
My heart is gonna jump outta my chest!
My hand came up automatically and clutched at my chest, fisting between my breasts, and I willed my heart to slow the hell down.
These Harrison’s are going to give me a heart attack!
How long did Ruthie say it would take ‘til she could be back on her feet?
I don’t know if I’m cut out for this kind of crap.
And what does it say about
them that they think me maiming and insulting them is appropriate?
What does it say about me?
Hmmm...
I contemplated that for a minute.
My brows lifted slightly and I shook my head a little.
Absolutely nothin’.
It says absolutely nadda about me.
I’ve always been this way- it’s just me, who I am.
Don’t know how to be anybody else or any other way.
I just am… who I am.
Just ask my mom, she’ll give you an earful about the woes of raising little ol’ me.
Heh. Heh.
They aren’t a crazy bunch, the guys,
I realized the more I really thought about it, got to know them better over lunch; intentionally blocking out the car/truck/bumper episode.
Car? What car?
After spending the last few hours to get a feel for them all, I have come to the conclusion that they just have loud personalities that jump out at you.
Even if they are a little…
kooky
at times.
Impulsive
is the word I think I’m looking for.
Yeah, I’ll go with that.
Get all of them into one room and it’s kind of chaotic and loud, but it’s not insane chaotic, it’s more of a comfortable chaotic.
A family level chaotic.
If that even makes any sense.
“Sorry,” Bowen chuckled, bemused by my reaction, laughing at my jumpiness.
He grunted when I swung around and
accidently-on-purpose
gut checked him.
Not so bemusing now, is it?
“So sorry,” I said unapologetically and followed Sawyer into Aunt Ruthie’s room.
Hey, if we're going to be living together, we better all get used to one another straight off.
Otherwise, I’d be more than happy to let them give me the boot.
I never was one for putting on airs either so this is the more reasonable choice of approach for me.
Let’s just be honest here from the get go.
“Here you go, Miss Genevieve,” Sawyer announced with a gallant bow.
Smiling faintly, I nodded to his bow and took a look around.
The room screamed ‘Aunt Ruthie’, from the handmade quilt on the bed to the Pinky and Blue boy lamps she had on each end of the dresser.
“Thank you, Aunt Ruthie!” I crowed, walking over to the bed.
I face planted into the quilted top, my bag dropping off to hit the floor before I even made contact with the bedspread.
“I take it you like this room?” Sawyer asked quietly, amused.
“Uh-huh.” My voice came out muffled from the bedspread.
I smiled against the quilt as the scent of lavender and Ruthie hit my nose.
Ahhh.
For as long as I can remember, the scent of lavender and Aunt Ruthie's favorite perfume has always imbued a sense of home coming in me.
A sense of comfort.
I really need something like that right about now, stuck in a strange new place with even stranger new people.
What can I say?
I’m just not a people person
- as evidenced already.
“Should we leave you and the bed alone?” Bowen teased, surprising me when I heard the mirth in his voice.
I lifted my head up a little and gave them a mock stern expression.
“It might be for the best,” I sighed gravely.
Smiling a little, I waved at them after that, shooing them out.
They grinned and started filing out of the room.
“I don’t know why Thatcher and Ephraim were so worried I’d leave earlier, I’m sure you guys could have quickly found a replacement. You’d think they’d had to chase down the help before or something,” I said on a laugh, making light of the situation.
They’d already explained themselves a bit, telling me how that it was hard to find someone willing to come all the way out here, and then about how they trust Ruthie’s judgment implicitly.
But still…
Bowen and Sawyer didn’t laugh along with me like I’d thought they would, and I glanced up, my eyes darting back and forth from person to person.
A look passed between them then, a silent communication, their expressions carefully blanked.
It was weird, and I got a funny feeling everyone was being a little secretive about something.
Maybe keeping something from me...
What, though?
They cleared their expressions and laughed lightly.
Frowning, I sat up and stared at them.
“What aren’t you guys telling me?” My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the big deal?”
They shrugged and gave me identical twin looks of innocence.
My frown deepened, as well as my suspicions.
The looks seemed oddly practiced.
“So… you
will
stay until Ruthie comes back,
right?”
Sawyer asked hurriedly after a moment.
“That was the plan,” I said slowly, studying them worriedly, “and you guys told Aunt Ruthie you’d be looking for a replacement for me as soon as possible, so I can go home, right?”
“Sure,” Bowen added quickly and nudged Sawyer.
Sawyer gave a short nod and they both turned to leave, filing out of the room and swiftly down the hall.
"Why do I feel like I just got the brush off?" I mumbled into the empty room.
Flopping down onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling.
Well, Vieve, whatever is going on will come to light soon enough.
And besides, it couldn’t be all that bad if Ruthie was willing to stay on…
True,
I relented and nodded to myself.
Scrubbing at my face, I gave my head a shake.
Enough of that, then!