No More Secrets: A Small Town Love Story (The Pierce Brothers Book 1) (10 page)

“Please tell me you’re getting that one,” she said, pointing to a purple camper model, as she got out of the car.

“I could have made good use of a van with a bed in the back in high school,” Jax waxed nostalgically. He led the way toward the office/garage.

A man in neatly pressed khakis intercepted them. His wispy white beard came to his chest and the hair on top of his head was tamed by a blue bandana.

“I thought I saw a Pierce meandering about out here,” he said, clapping Jax on the back.

“Good to see you, Ern,” Jax said. “This is my friend Summer.”

Ernest took her offered hand and kissed her knuckles. “A veritable pleasure, Summer. What brings you two to my humble entrepreneurial endeavor?”

“I’m in the market for some wheels,” Jax told him.

“Planning to replant some transplanted roots, I hear,” Ernest said, wiggling his bushy brows.

“That’s the plan. What have you got for me?”

Ernest surveyed the lot. “Well, we’ve got your buses there, your Dubs there, a couple of sedans over yonder. But I’m thinking a man such as yourself needs a little more power under the hood.”

“I knew you’d have something squirreled away,” Jax nodded. “Tell me more.”

“How does a 1969 350 small block with black on black sound?”

“Like you’re about to make me the happiest man on the planet.”

Ernest chuckled. “Let me introduce you to your new bride.” He keyed in a code on one of the garage bays and the door rose silently.

Jax let out a low wolf whistle. “Hello, beautiful.”

The black car squatted under a lift. Beefy tires and sleek, shiny lines gave it an aggressive look that even Summer found appealing.

“Summer, do you know what this is?”

“It appears to be a car of some sort.”

“You’ll have to excuse her, Ern. Summer’s from Manhattan. This car, Summer, is a 1969 Chevy Nova.”

Ernest tossed him the keys. “Might as well escort her out on a date. See if it’s true love.”

“Come on, Summer. Let’s see what she can do.”

She did a lot, in Summer’s estimation. The Nova’s deep purr was capable of shifting into a full on roar and gluing her shoulder blades to the pristine vinyl of the passenger seat.

After a five-minute thrill ride, Summer’s heart was in her throat and Jax was sold. He and Ernest haggled — more out of habit than necessity — for briefest of moments before settling on a price and shaking on it.

“I’ll treat her right,” Jax promised.

“You be sure to do so,” Ernest said, pocketing the check. “Summer, it was a delight.”

––––––––

C
arter was attempting to enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet with a beer and some Beethoven when they returned. He nearly laughed when he watched his brother cart in eight jars of Julia’s wares. “I see Summer met Julia,” he said.

“We’re having a tasting,” Jax said, heaving the jars onto the counter. “Break out the shot glasses.”

Summer came in behind him, lugging what looked like a dozen shopping bags. Her face was flushed and happy. It hit him like a fist to the gut how much he liked seeing her in his house. As much as he enjoyed his solitude, his peace, there was something to be said for a beautiful woman happy to see him.

“Looks like shopping was successful,” he said, taking the bags from her and putting them down.

“I don’t know what came over me, Carter. I just went for one or two pairs of jeans and look what happened!”

“Summer got to meet Mrs. McCarthy,” Jax said, pulling plates out of the cabinet.

Carter dumped the subs out of the bag, while he listened to Summer chatter about their afternoon. A wax paper bag came tumbling out of the sub bag. Inside he found two heart shaped cookies.

The BC strikes again.

He held them up and Jax laughed. “I take you didn’t order those?”

Carter glared at him. “No. I did not order pink and blue heart cookies for dinner.”

His brother fished a set of car keys out of his pocket. “After you’re done crumbling cookies, check out the new wheels.”

“You took Summer car shopping?”

Jax shrugged. “She took me juice shopping.”

“Jax spent way more than I did,” Summer said, defending herself. “Go meet his new lady and I’ll get dinner ready.”

Since there was no actual cooking to be done, Carter figured it was safe to leave Summer alone in the kitchen.

The car was impressive, the test drive Jax allowed him was even more so.

It didn’t surprise him that his brother went vintage. Even in high school when everyone else thought newer was better, Jax and Joey bonded over their love of American muscle.

What did give him pause was the fact that buying a car appeared to be a real sign that his brother was serious about staying put. He wondered what that meant.

When they returned, Summer had neatly arranged the subs on plates and filled shot glasses of juice at each place setting on the island. She couldn’t cook to save her life, but her presentation was appealing.

“How was the ride?” she asked, all blue eyes and full lips.

“She moves,” he answered.

“Why do men refer to cars as women?” she asked, frowning.

“There’s only one other thing that gets a man’s blood up like the rumble of an engine,” Jax said.

“And that’s a beautiful woman,” Carter added.

She laughed and he couldn’t stop himself from putting his hands on her shoulders. “So what are we sampling here?” he asked.

“Julia was so passionate about what she does and the health benefits of it, I picked up the ones she recommended.”

Being OJs by Julia’s main supplier of organic produce and herbs, Carter had tried most of the juices before. He knew which ones were palatable, delicious even, and which ones were to be avoided at all costs.

“Food or juice first?” he asked, taking the stool next to her.

Jax picked up a glass and sniffed it with suspicion. “Let’s juice first and wash it down with food just in case they taste like they smell.”

Summer swigged back a shot of the Citrus Berry Brew. “That one was really good,” she said, licking her lips.

Jax went for the Ginger Sunrise and drew in a breath through his teeth. “That one has a bit of a kick.”

Carter hid his smile as they both reached for the Jolly Green. He grabbed a shot of the Beet Root Reboot. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” they answered.

Summer clinked his glass and drank hers down. The reaction was instantaneous. She clapped both hands over her mouth to keep the juice from coming back out. Jax wasn’t as dignified. He raced to the sink, spit out the offending juice, and drank straight from the faucet.

“What the fuck was that?” he gargled.

Summer gagged. “It tastes like ... feet. Disgusting, horrible feet.”

Jax groaned in the sink.

Carter roared with laughter.

“You knew!” Summer stared at him accusingly.

“As soon as I’m sure I won’t puke, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Jax grumbled.

Summer took matters into her own hands and filled Carter’s empty glass with Jolly Green. “Drink up. We’re in this together.”

Carter eyed her up and then sprinted around the island.

“Come back here, you coward,” Summer yelled, running down the hall after him while wielding the glass.

She saw him dart into the dining room and chased after him, not realizing it was a trap.

Carter jumped out and snagged her around the waist. Summer shrieked and bobbled the glass. He snatched it out of her hand and pushed her up against the wall. “I think you want another shot of this, don’t you?” he teased.

He used his body to hold her in place and playfully brought the glass to her lips. Summer clamped her mouth shut and shook her head from side to side.

“Come on, baby, open up.”

She turned her head to the side. “Not as tough as Jax? Can’t handle a little juice?” she asked.

“You manipulative little —” he grinned.

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, Carter.” Her eyes had gone deeper than the Atlantic. “I was just making an observation. Obviously, given the current evidence, I can’t help but assume that your brother is more of a man than you are.” She shrugged delicately.

“My brother is puking in the sink.”

“No, I’m not,” Jax yelled from the kitchen.

“Sounds like he survived it. Are you afraid you won’t?” She was cocky now, and it was a fucking turn on.

Carter held up the glass. “What do I get, sweet Summer, if I drink your poison?”

“What do you want?” Her smile was slow and dangerous. 

That smart mouth on his. That lithe body wrapped around him. Those sea goddess eyes opening in his bed in the morning. That’s what he wanted.

He leaned in an inch closer and those plush lips parted for him.

“You can owe me one,” he said, stopping a breath before her mouth.

He raised the glass, dipped a finger in it and painted it over her open lips. Her tongue darted out to taste his finger and he downed the contents of the glass. The touch of her tongue to his skin overrode the sensation of liquid garbage sliding down his throat.

“You owe me.”

“Try and collect,” she said saucily.

“Manipulative,” he said, pinching her as she walked past him.

“Calculated,” she tossed over her shoulder and sauntered back to the kitchen.

Jax was out of the sink and swigging soy sauce straight from the bottle. “I can’t get rid of the taste,” he groaned. 

“Gimme that,” Carter said, snatching the bottle from him, and poured some into his own mouth.

––––––––

C
arter retreated to the great room after dinner. It had been a productive day. Orders delivered, grass mowed, crops mulched with the clippings. Jax was showing off his car to Beckett, and peace once again reigned in the house.

He picked up a book and turned on some music, classical piano so as not to disturb Summer who was still working in the kitchen. She had changed, yet again, this time into cotton pants and a little tank under a soft sweater. Her hair was carelessly piled on top of her head. He liked her this way best.

Comfortable, unguarded.

He liked watching her work, enjoyed the way she alternated between squinting at her screen and smiling at it.

Lord knew what was going through her mind. Unfortunately, it was
her
that kept running through
his
mind.

She worked all day by his side, and then every night she sat at the kitchen island until yawns of exhaustion forced her upstairs to bed. He doubted she got enough sleep. By evening she was pale with shadows under her eyes, but still she soldiered on.

He’d looked up her blog the night before and was pleasantly surprised.

She wrote with a simple directness that made him feel like she was having a friendly conversation. There were behind-the-scenes posts from photo shoots or magazine events, but most of her posts trended toward health and lifestyle topics.

She shared interesting research and short snippets of the biographies of interesting people she met. He couldn’t quite connect the woman who diligently slaved for the higher-ups and advertisers of a magazine featuring skinny, pouting models to the one who wrote so passionately about the New York make-up artist to the stars who was supporting her parents and siblings in her home country of Namibia.

Others seemed to appreciate Summer’s blog, too. Each post had dozens of comments and hundreds of “shares.” Whatever those were.

He skimmed her last post on the farm on his tablet, frowning at a picture of himself before scrolling lower. There were more comments here. Ones that nearly made him blush.

“Hey.” Summer came in from the kitchen carrying her laptop. “Can I show you something?”

Carter hit the power button of his tablet to hide the screen. “Uh, sure.”

She sat cross-legged next to him on the couch. “Okay. So I noticed you didn’t have a graphic or logo for the farm and I thought maybe you could use one. Do some branding and merchandising.”

He blinked. “Merchandising?”

“You know like reusable totes or t-shirts for the riding school. That kind of thing. Plus it’s something we could run with the article.”

Carter nodded. It sounded like a smart idea.

“Anyway, here’s what I came up with.” She passed him her laptop.

On the screen was a vibrant red apple with an arrow through it. The words Pierce Acres rounded under the apple.

“That arrow?” He frowned and cocked his head. It looked familiar.

“It’s based on the weather vane on top of the little barn. On the surface, the apple is because your mom told me the orchard is a big producer. Everyone loves Pierce apples. But it also represents natural, organic produce.” She bit her lip. “What do you think?”

Carter peered at the screen and back at Summer. “This is really good. You did this?”

She grinned and nodded. “Do you really like it?”

“Yeah, I do. It looks like us. Thank you,” he said laying a warm hand on her knee. “What’s an artist like you charge for this?”

Summer laughed. “Got any ice cream in the house?”

I
t was delivery day for Carter in town, and rather than set tongues wagging by accompanying him, Summer wrangled a lunch invitation out of Beckett. It was the perfect opportunity for her to get a little more background for the story.

Carter dropped her off in front of a rambling Victorian. Unlike the home next door with its midnight blue siding and Pepto Bismal pink front door, Beckett’s was a stately gray with white trim.

“His office is on the side,” Carter called from the driver seat, pointing at the far end of the porch. “Be back in an hour.”

Summer waved him off and opened the wrought iron gate to the walkway. The Pierce men were certainly eclectic with their taste in homes, she mused.

She followed the flagstone path to the front porch and wandered around the side. The sign on the fanciful glass door politely asked her to
Please Come In
. Summer stepped inside and found herself in a cheerful sunroom off the back of the house.

The girl behind the large mahogany desk was wearing a leather collar with metal spikes. Her black hair was combed into two neat pigtails. She smiled through her black-as-midnight lipstick. “Are you Summer?” she whispered.