Beauty and the Mustache (14 page)

Plus, Jackson James was
the sweetest, kindest, most amazing boy in the entire world...until
the end of our senior year when he dumped me.

I was stunned when that
happened. I wasn’t in love with Jackson—not in the passionate or
romantic way that books and movies tell you is real—but I had come
to rely on him. He’d been my first everything: my first kiss, my
first boyfriend, my first
first.
And when he dumped me just before college, he cut
off all communication. I was so devastated over the loss of my best
friend that it felt like I’d lost a part of myself.

Over the years, the
feeling of loss had dwindled to a slight ache, mostly related to
nostalgia. I’d come to view him as another example—in a long line
of examples—of why men were as trustworthy and reliable as tampons
made of sand.

“
Oh, please.” Duane rolled
his eyes. “Jackson James is an asshole. I still don’t know why you
gave him the time of day. You could have had any guy in a
hundred-mile radius, and you didn’t give anyone a second look
except that dipshit—and he was a scrawny little bastard. Didn’t he
play something stupid like the clarinet or something?”

I gritted my teeth. “It
was the obo, and he was really good.” For some bizarre reason my
gaze searched out Drew’s and found him watching me. When our eyes
met, he didn’t look away. Therefore, I did.

Jethro grumbled as he
placed the utensils around the table. “Real men play instruments
with strings, like a guitar or a bass.”

“
Or the drums. Those got
no strings,” added Cletus.

“
He just wanted to get in
your pants,” Duane said and shook his head, obviously having worked
himself into a temper of disgust for my childhood best
friend.

“
Duane Faulkner Winston.”
Jethro’s voice held a hint of warning. “Quit being ugly. That was
disrespectful. Apologize to Ash.”

Momma had given each of us
her favorite authors’ surnames as our middle names. Mine was fine,
Ashley Austen Winston for Jane Austen. But I felt a little sorry
for Billy, because his full name was William Shakespeare
Winston.

Duane placed his hand on
my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ash. I didn’t say it to be mean. It’s just
that everyone in town wanted to get in your pants, and that guy was
the worst. It’s rough having a beauty queen as a
sister.”

“
Lots of guys to beat up,”
Billy mumbled under his breath as he finished placing the
napkins.

I frowned at Billy and
could feel my neck heat with embarrassment, but I addressed Duane’s
apology. “It’s okay. I know you weren’t trying to be mean. But
Jackson really was my friend. I knew him when we were
kids.”

“
You mean you felt sorry
for him,” Duane insisted. “He was a reject. You were the only one
who was nice to him.”

I closed my eyes and
rubbed my forehead, feeling abruptly tired. “I think I’m going to
go lay down.”

“
But you haven’t eaten,”
Cletus argued from behind me.

“
I’m sorry…I’m just not
very hungry.” I was already walking toward the hallway that lead
back to the den.

When silence followed, I
thought I was home free. But then I felt a hand catch my wrist and
pull me down the hall in the opposite direction of the
den.

“
I said….”

“
I heard you.” Drew’s
voice was like tempered steel, his eyes silver and flashing, and he
had rendered me momentarily speechless. His presence was
overwhelming. Despite my various states of exhaustion, I couldn’t
resist checking out his well-formed backside as he led me through
the family room, out the front door, and onto the porch.

Once there, he let me go,
but he stood between the door and me, his arms crossed over his
chest, his face grim. Then, he stalked toward me.

I blinked at him, at the
door, at the brightness of the early evening sunlight. My brain
told me it had been more than a week since I’d been outside. When
my brain also told me that I needed to pull myself together by
voluntarily taking showers, eating three meals a day, and finding a
way to keep in regular contact with my friends in
Chicago—basically, to rejoin the land of the living—I told my brain
to hush.

Drew was glaring at me,
each of his steps bringing us closer, and his jaw was set. I
mimicked his stance, though I backed up as he advanced. I’m sure
the effect was pathetic. I was tired. I lacked the physical and
mental energy to argue with anyone.

However, it seemed that my
body did not lack the energy required to become hot and flustered
at finding myself suddenly alone with Drew.

“
You’re sleeping on the
cot in the den every night, aren’t you?” His words sounded
accusatory, and his jaw ticked.

I scrunched my nose at
him, taking another step away. “Yes. I am.”

“
I told you that you and
your brothers would take shifts. I don’t want you sleeping in there
every night. You need to take better care of yourself.” His tone
was straddling the line between angry and agitated. He stalked
closer.

I shrugged, my back
hitting the porch post. I couldn’t retreat further.

“
Fine,” I said.

I’d learned, growing up,
that if I said
fine
,
people usually left me alone because
they thought they’d won. Then, I ignored their wishes and did
whatever I wanted to do. This approach also worked well with
physicians when they got a bee in their boxers.

I could sit tight,
say
fine
, wait for
the narcissists to tire themselves out, then go back to my
business; or I could try to fight back. Fighting back never worked.
It was like trying to hold back a bursting levy with duct tape and
a plucky can-do attitude. Better just to let the tide wash over you
and ride out the egomaniac storm.

Drew was now two feet away.
“You say
fine,
but
I know you’re going to go back in there and sleep on that cot again
tonight.”

I gave him my stone face.
This wasn’t any of his business. I wasn’t his business. What I did
or didn’t do wasn’t his business. But for some reason, my brothers
and my momma had invited the entitled Dr. Runous into their lives
and given him the reins.

I could do nothing about
that, but I didn’t have to like it.

Brow furrowed, mouth
stern, eyes piercing, Drew stepped closer. I was forced to tilt my
head backward to maintain eye contact, and my silly heart began to
pound out a staccato rhythm.

Whether I liked it or not,
whether it was convenient or not, Drew’s proximity affected me. I
was awake to him now, fully aware. I might have been barely going
through the motions and neglecting my personal hygiene;
nevertheless, he was an irritating reminder that I was very much a
woman, and my body responded to silver-eyed, fictionally handsome
men—especially when this man seemed to make it his mission to look
after my momma and brothers.

“
Ash, Sugar, you need to
take better care of yourself.” His voice dipped, deepened, and
became soft and coaxing. He lifted his hand and pushed the hair
behind my neck, his hand lingering for a beat. The back of his
fingers brushed against my shoulder down to my elbow, making me
fight against a shiver.

Then, abruptly, he
snatched his hand back as if he hadn’t realized what he was
doing.

“
Don’t call me Sugar, I’m
not your Sugar.” I said this dumbly and without energy, my neck hot
and itchy. I had the strangest, most insane desire to press and/or
rub myself against him. He was so ludicrously manly and gorgeous
and swoony.

“
You can’t hide the
sweetness, Ashley. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“
I’m not sweet.” This
emerged somewhat breathlessly.

“
Yes. Yes you are. You are
working yourself to ragged taking care of your momma. You’re so
sweet you’re giving me a stomach ache and cavities.” He said the
words as though he were both impressed and aggravated, and he said
them suddenly, as if he hadn’t planned to speak them out
loud.

He was looking at me with
the same intensity he’d employed that night in my room when Sandra
was sizing him up. He was looking at me like I
was
sugar, like I was cake covered in
frosting, and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to bite me or
lick me first.

I held my breath as I
watched him, wondering what he was going to do, wondering if I
would stop him. His eyes grew unfocused as he gazed at my lips, our
heads inching closer.

The sound of voices from
inside the house broke the spell, and Drew stiffened. His gaze
moved over my face like he was surprised to see me there. Drew
must’ve disliked what he found because his scowl intensified and
his eyes narrowed into slits. Then, abruptly, he turned
away.

His tone was clipped and
low as he said, “Infuriating woman.”

With that, he disappeared
into the house, his exit punctuated by a slam of the screen
door.

I released the breath I’d
been holding and would have staggered if I hadn’t been leaning
against the porch post. I decided to wait a minute to give my body
time to simmer down before I went back into the house. I definitely
needed to simmer down. Drew had my heart beating a million miles a
minute; he made my chest hot and my belly disconcertingly—yet
deliciously—achy.

After several deep
breaths, I took a few steps toward the house only to be greeted by
Cletus poking his head around the screen door followed by two
plates of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green
beans.

“
Hey, baby sister, I have
food for you.” Cletus’s warm hazel eyes and affectionate words
softened my heart more than a little. He gave me an imploring
smile, and his tone was imploring as he said, “Come eat with me on
the swing. I’ll tell you about my auto shop.”

Just like that, faced with
sweet Cletus, I surrendered.

I inhaled then released a
steadying breath, my hands falling to my sides. “Sure, Cletus…that
sounds nice.” I took my plate and sat on one end of the
swing.

“
Something will have gone
out of us as a people if we ever let the remaining wilderness be
destroyed.... We simply need that wild country available to us,
even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look
in.”

―
Wallace Stegner,
The Sound of
Mountain Water

“
When
was the
last time you went
outside?”

“
What?” I said, squinting
as I glanced from my backlit eReader to my brother Billy. I had a
gray spot in my vision from staring at a bright screen in a dark
room for too long.

He glanced at Marissa. Even
with the lingering gray rectangle clouding my vision, I saw them
exchange a
look.
Her lips pressed together, her eyebrows raised meaningfully,
her eyes slightly narrowed.

Marissa the traitor.

Billy’s eyes widened, then
he looked at me and growled. “That’s it. Get up.”

He didn’t wait for me to
move. He walked around my mother’s hospital bed where she lay
asleep, and he pulled me from the recliner by my elbow and steered
me out of the room.

Billy didn’t stop until we
were at the bottom of the stairs, and he only stopped then because
I tugged my arm out of his grip.

“
Wait a minute!” I
spluttered, “Would you just hold your horses?”

His expression was
impatient and irritated. “What?”

I frowned. He looked
tired. His suit was wrinkled, and his beard was askew. “Are you
okay? Did something happen?”

“
I’m fine, Ash. Except for
the fact that my momma’s down the hall dying and my sister, after
disappearing for eight years, has returned home just to become a
ghost. Other than that, everything is just fine.”

I flinched, partly because
the family room was brighter than the den; but mostly because his
words scalded the marshmallow wall I’d been trying to build around
myself.

I had dropped all of the
balls I should have been juggling—specifically, the care and
feeding of myself and my family—in favor of spending every spare
minute with my momma. She’d even remarked on it, joked that I was
hovering, commented that I’d become so pale I was translucent. She
called me a glowing white angel sent to take her to
heaven.

A week had passed since my
strange interaction with Drew on the porch. Since then I’d been
pointedly avoiding him and everyone else. Whenever he came into the
den to visit Momma, the air seemed to shift. I always ignored it
and him by burying my face in a book. Seeing him and being near him
made me feel off-kilter.

Something in my expression
must’ve made Billy regret his last statement, because his eyes
softened a fraction, and he
tsked.

But then he growled with
exasperation and said, “You need to snap out of it—out of this. You
can’t sit inside all day. Plus, you’re not eating, you don’t speak
to us, and you don’t even acknowledge when we’re in the same room
with you.”