“Jordan got called into work last night, so Landon’s over at his place babysitting Abbie. And hey, I added a little somethin’ extra to your dad’s famous scone recipe. Let me know how you like it.” I sat on the stool at the side of the counter and shoved half of one in my mouth with a groan.
“Almonds and chocolate chips. Yum.” I glanced up as he slid a cup of coffee in front of me in my favorite mug, followed by a plate filled with bacon and eggs, sunny-side up. Another one of my favorites.
He knew about last night.
“Who told you?”
His eyes darted to the window, then quickly to the floor. That’s how I knew he was about to tell a fib. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can’t I make your favorites, just because?” His puppy dog eyes landed on me, brimming with false sincerity.
“Uh, yeah, and you should do it every day. But who freaking told you, Leo? Was it Jackie? I can’t believe she’s your sister, let alone your twin. How could the two of you come from the same womb? It’s like the devil-and-angel-on-my-shoulder thing come to life. Ugh!”
“The mystery is everlasting, and we may never know the answer. Kind of like we may never know the reason why you keep blowing off Friday night dinners with me and your brothers.” Like usual, I ignored that pointed barb. “And yes, she couldn’t wait to text me all about it. In fact, she woke me up last night. I told her to move on—again.”
“I do not get her. It’s not like we told her she couldn’t hang out with us back then. One of these days, I’m gonna forget she’s your sister and punch her right—”
I almost fell off my stool and Leo jumped a foot as the outside door swung open to bounce off the springy doorstop thing with a huge boing. “Y’all, did I miss it?”
“Give us a coronary, why don’t you, Clara? Miss what?” Leo shouted, hand to his chest, from the other side of the kitchen, where he had dashed off to.
“The hard hats, the muscles, the sweaty construction crew man-candy! I’m ready for bulging biceps, heavy lifting, and the grunting sounds of exertion.” She stopped when she caught sight of my plate. “Oooh, scones. Am I early?”
“Yeah, Clara, you nut. You’re about an hour early,” I said with a laugh.
“The man-candy is scheduled for eight,” Leo confirmed.
Clara sidled up to my side to hug me. “I’m sorry about last night, Molls,” she whispered in my ear.
“Dang it! Who told you?”
“Willa, of course. You should have called me. I was at the farm with Momma and Sadie last night.” Clara’s mother owned a lavender farm called Lavender Hills, located in the foothills above town. Clara sometimes stayed there to help at their farm stand.
“Oh, ugh. How did that go?” Leo asked. Clara’s mother was a difficult woman. They did not get along. A fact we’d been discussing ad nauseum since our delinquent beer-drinking days of yesteryear.
“It went exactly like you said—ugh. But I don’t want to talk about that. What’s with the hair, Molly? A bun?” She let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god, did you have sex with Garrett last night? Finally?” Her eyes got big, then she scrunched her face and shook her head. “That isn’t it. If y’all two banged, you’d be off hiding somewhere freaking out . . .” I sat back and let my raised eyebrows do the talking. Clara was good at one-sided conversation. “I know! You kissed him and now you’re all swirly-whirly inside your girlie parts. Did she finally get a clue?” She addressed Leo, who only chuckled in response to her question. Rude. I let out a huff and looked away. “Ha! You’re so predictable, Molls. Buttoned-up shirt, strapped-down boobs, bad hair, no lip gloss. You want him real bad. We all know it.” She snatched a scone from the plate with a self-satisfied expression. “Well?”
I let out another huff. “Shut up.”
“I knew it. Another Monroe is about to bite the proverbial dust.”
“We’re friends. Like we always have been. Just like usual,” I insisted.
Leo snorted. “Just friends. Okay. Nothing about the two of y’all is ever usual.”
“Et tu, Leo?”
He laughed at me. “Yeah, et me. We’ll see what happens when they get here. The truth will come out and that’s all I’m saying.”
“It sure will.” Clara leaned in. “Listen, if you finally have a chance with him, Molly, take it. I stayed with Willa and Everett at their place last weekend to help decorate the new nursery. He is an entire husband, that one is. Miz Becky Lee raised those boys right. He makes her green smoothies every morning now that she’s pregnant. He won’t let her lift a finger around the house, and—” She turned, bouncing her head from Leo to me with big eyes. “This is classified information.” He nodded and zipped his lip while I shrugged and bobbed my head in agreement. “I heard things, y’all. Those Monroe boys have stamina. Like, hours of it. If you don’t marry Garrett, at least, please screw him and tell me how it was. There’s no hope for me anymore. All the good men have been taken. No more available Winston brothers—my chance at Beau and/or Duane is gone forever. That hottie Tucker Haywood was single for about five minutes before getting snatched right the frick up by that new girl, and there are no more Monroes now that you’ve finally scented Garrett. I could use a vicarious thrill; my well has run dry. The last man I dated said he was thirty, but I swear, y’all, if you told me he was really two fifteen-year-old boys stacked up inside of a trench coat, I would believe you.”
Leo smirked and shook his head at her. “What about one of those Erickson boys, the fighters?”
“They’re superhot, but too overtly athletic for me. I get the feeling they’re the type to run five K’s on holidays, or you know, like, 'Hey, let’s go out and toss this football or whatever ball around after dinner.’ That’s against my religious beliefs. I like to undo my top button and eat my weight in dessert on holidays, thank you very much. Hard pass.”
He chuckled. “You know, the Monroes have cousins, right? And what about Barrett? He’s divorced.”
“No, sir, I did not know that. Tell me of these cousins of which you speak. And Barrett is taken. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is. Sadie claimed that boy way back in middle school, you know that. Always following him around like a sneaky little puppy. She was so stealthy I thought for sure she’d end up joining the FBI or something but no . . .” She shook her head. “Anywho—cousins? I need some names and I need them right the-ever-loving-heck now. Tell me they’re hot and where I can find one. I’m getting desperate.” She batted her eyes beseechingly at Leo. She had gone full Blanche-Deveraux-southern-belle dramatic. It was known far and wide that Sadie’d had a hopeless crush for years on Barrett Monroe, the oldest of the Monroe brothers. We used to tease her about it years ago every time we drove past the Monroe house in town for her to catch a glimpse of him in the yard, where he was usually shooting hoops in the driveway or tossing a ball around with his brothers. Some would call that stalking, we called it . . . okay, there really was no other word for it. We stalked him.
“Becky Lee has six brothers and all of them have at least two kids each. One even has eight. I can’t believe you didn’t know this—everyone does.” I informed her as I sipped my coffee.