“Huh,” she said. “Why does Willow usually do it?”
He frowned. His youngest cousin’s tone had taken on an edge. “I don’t know, exactly.”
“Why doesn’t the person who calls the bonfire do it? Oh, wait, is it because he has a penis?”
He almost dropped the phone. Since when did little Drew use that word?
“That isn’t what I meant!”
“If it’s not what you meant, then why didn’t you call Baxter or Orrin or Trevor to organize it? You automatically think of Willow or me, and you’d have asked Maria in between if she hadn’t just got married.”
He lowered his head. “You’re right, Drew,” he said, realizing that all four male Brand cousins relied on the females to handle the organizing of their frequent bunkhouse bonfires. “I honestly hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right.”
“Dang straight I’m right.”
His hope of help was dwindling. “I don’t…It’s just that I’m not very good at that sort of thing.”
“Neither am I. Neither were Maria or Willow ’til somebody made it their job.”
“Well, that’s probably true, but?—”
“Let me help you get started. We’ll need about six pizzas, nobody wants anchovies, multiple bags of chips, various flavors, and a lot of beer. Which of those things would you like me to bring?”
She wasn’t going to give in, was she? “Um, chips?”
“Very good. Now repeat this phone call to Maria, Willow, Baxter, and Trevor. Better yet, use the dang family text loop you avoid like the plague. Assign each cousin something to bring—divvy up the pizza and beer costs among all of us, so nobody’s paying the whole shot.”
“What about Orrin?” She’d listed every cousin but her brother.
“I’ll tell him. We’ll go in together on the snacks and bring enough for everyone.”
“Okay.” He felt chastened by a child.
“Oh, and don’t forget to invite Lily. She’s part of the family now. You wouldn’t know that, bein’ gone most of the time.”
Man, she was really letting him have it, wasn’t she? “Okay,” he said again. She’d managed to make him feel like she was the one pushing thirty and he the barely twenty-three-year-old.
“Good. See you tomorrow night.”
She disconnected. He shook his head. The kid was right. She was also growing up and becoming a spitfire too.
He rolled his eyes, then turned on some mellow country music.
Chapter Four
Lily couldn’t sleep. She wanted to get up and go get herself a snack, but she didn’t want to wake her father. He slept so lightly that the least sound or movement would rouse him. He was feeling good, she thought. Better all the time, actually. And his mind was still sharp and clear. He’d made friends, and they played cards and bowled. Cooking at the cantina was healing for him, she thought. So was working with him there, for her.
It had only been two years since they’d lost the real Lily, and none of them had healed, although she thought Harrison had progressed furthest. Finding Maria, marrying into her family, moving down here—he’d found his place.
She still wasn’t so sure of her own. And their dad? She didn’t know, but she sure wished the sparkle would return to his eyes.
The real reason for her sleeplessness, she knew, was that Ethan was back. She usually knew when he was coming. It had to be an event; a wedding, a funeral, or a major holiday. They always ran into each other when he was in town. She always had a plan to ensure they would, but she’d never had to use one. It always happened on its own.
She’d never been more attracted to a man in her life, from the moment she’d first set eyes on him. No, before that. She’d fallen in love with his voice before she’d ever seen him. She’d heard him on the radio, downloaded his album, followed his fan pages on social.
Seeing him for the first time, face-to-face, had been entirely different from seeing his photos and videos, though. His dark-brown hair had lighter and darker shades in its loose curls that looked as soft as satin. His stunning black-rimmed, light-brown irises seemed to gleam in contrast with his heavy, dark eyebrows.
He was so big, the thought of being with him was a little bit scary. She wasn’t big anywhere. But when she thought about being wrapped up in those arms, she didn’t feel fear, she felt bliss.
