Sutton

SULLY: Word is your farm yoga starts today. How firm is this no brother rule?

VIVI: Did he just start another group convo?

JJ: Apparently the perv in him is stronger than the group chat hate.

ME: 1 - How do you even know it starts today? And 2 - It's a firm hell no to brothers.

SULLY: 1 - I have my sources. 2 - You're really fucking mean sometimes.

VIVI: How much you want to bet the source is mom?

FINN: I ditto Sully's #2. Mean, Sutton. You're pure mean.

CHARLIE: I ditto both Sully & Vivi. Mean Sutton & no doubt the source is mom.

JENSEN: Go be pervs somewhere that's not our family business, yeah?

SUTTON: Since the word of the day is apparently ditto, I ditto J.

VIVI: Same.

JJ: Not to be the black sheep, but how about you just don't be pervs period?

SULLY: Where's the fun in that, Double J?


Rolling my eyes, I wedge my phone into the tight waistband of my yoga shorts, and I survey the area designated for Yoga on the Farm. It's a patch of grass that butts up to where we host Wood Fired Pizza nights.

Now that the calendar switched over to September, the mornings begin chilly and the temperature slowly crawls up to hot as the day wears on. Dressing becomes an artform this time of year with layers being your new best friend. By midday, I'll have ditched everything but my yoga tank and shorts.

Tugging the cuffs of my sweatshirt over my hands, I trudge through the dewy grass, cussing the fickle weather. Although it's not ideal to downward dog on damp grass, at least the yoga mats will provide some protection.

I unroll my mat, tossing a few extra ones to the side in case anyone needs one. Then I scroll through my phone to find my yoga playlist and do a test run with the Bluetooth speaker to make sure everything is set up and running correctly.

"Nice calming music." I raise my head at the voice to see Vivi approaching with an armload of yoga mats and a basket hanging off one arm. She unloads the mats near the ones I discarded earlier and sets the basket on a table in the Wood Fired Pizza patio area.

I nod toward the basket. "What's that?"

"Coloring stuff for the kids once they lose interest in cow and cat stretches." Vivi dusts off her purple yoga pants while she makes her way back over to me. "I could get used to dressing like this for work." She usually dresses business casual since she spends most of her days in a cushy office.

"I brought my regular uniform of jean overalls to switch into later, but I'm thinking I could probably get away with this, too, if I throw on a flower shop apron." I stretch to loosen my muscles and Vivi joins in.

"You nervous?"

I glance up at her from my deep lunge. "Nah. Not really. Well, a little. Only because I want it to go well so I can prove a point."

"What's the point exactly? That you were right and Jensen was wrong?"

"Well, yeah, that." I laugh, straightening from my lunge. I quickly throw my hair up into a messy bun hoping the short amount of time I'll have my hair up won't give me too big of a headache. "Mostly, though, I want to show everyone—myself included—that I can do adult things."

Vivi pauses her stretches to study me. "No one thinks you can't do adult things, Sutton."

I wave her off, not feeling like getting into a deep conversation right now. But she isn't letting me off the hook. "Sutton..."

"Look, Viv," I interrupt her quickly. "I'm not immune to the way you all see me. Being the baby of the family and all that. But whatever. This isn't the time for this. Let's make this the best first farm yoga, as Sully so eloquently called it, it can possibly be. Ok?"

She nods but doesn't look entirely ready to drop the subject. Just then a few women walk toward us, three young kids straggling behind them. The children's energy level sets the mood, and instantly a smile lights my face, and I feel a surge of adrenaline.

"Hi," I cheerily greet the group. "I'm Sutton and this is Vivi. The kids will be with her," I motion toward the area behind us. "And the adults will be here with me."

Vivi waves at the kids with a big smile. "Hey, guys. Who's ready to learn some animal yoga poses? We're going to moo and meow and oink like big fat pigs!"

The kids snicker and cheer as they follow my sister over to their designated spot. The moms laugh as they watch the commotion and then turn toward me. "If you just want to set up your mats over here, we will get started soon."

Over the next ten minutes, people young and old arrive and begin filling the grass with multicolored yoga mats. Raucous noises from the children's side drowns out the women chatting. As I survey the scene, a small sense of pride fills me up. My moment is short-lived, though, when an ear-splitting noise breaks through the drum.

"Yoo hoo! Dearie!"

A woman in a boxy dress is powerwalking toward me, making good speed for her age. If I had to guess, she's in her mid-70s, but it feels like she's lived on this earth since the dinosaurs. Directly behind her is a lanky man toting a camera around his neck. I suppress the groan lodged in my throat. Marg Newhouse and her nephew Mark. She's Lake Hope's busybody who so happens to have a regular gossip column in the local newspaper. Her nephew recently filled the photographer position.

"Morning, Marg," I say as sweetly as I can manage. Once she's standing in front of me, I can see today's fabric of choice and I have to cover my smile with my hand. The dress is dark purple with figures bent and twisted into angles that can only be assumed came straight from a Kama Sutra book. Her dress of the day has me wondering if there's a Paperback Rider's book club meeting tonight, and I make a mental note to ask Teddy later. Plus, I secretly ponder for the millionth time how the hell I can finally get invited to this exclusive book club.

"Now don't mind us, dear. We're simply flies on the wall to this very exciting new venture to hit Lake Hope. Carry on like we're not here."

"You're putting this in the paper?"

"Course. Maybe it'll even make the front page."

Must be a slow news week, I think. Then I remind myself it's always a slow news week here.

Once it looks like everyone is settled on their mats, I walk to the front and clap my hands to get their attention. I glance behind me to see Vivi has managed to settle the kids down and they're sitting crisscross applesauce on their mats.

"Morning, ladies...and, er, gentleman," I quickly correct myself when I notice a middle-aged man seated in the back row. "We're so excited to start our new Yoga on the Farm program. If you like it, we hope you'll join us every week. Now with a show of hands, who has never done yoga before?" I survey the group of varying ages and stages in their lives, from young mothers to the retired. A few hands pop up. "Don't worry. We will go slow and work our way through the trickier poses. If you need to sit out or take a break at any time, that's completely fine."

I cue up the calming music and I take a seat on my mat in front of the class. "Let's start with centering in a relaxed easy sitting position, crossed-legged with your hands rested on your knees." I continue talking while the participants settle into their positions. "I want you to focus on your breathing to bring you into the present moment. This will ground us before we begin."

Next, I move us into a warmup with simple poses and end with a sun salutation before moving into the more dynamic poses of our session.

When I look through my legs during a downward dog, I notice Mark behind the group with his camera perched at his face, the telltale clicking noises of the shutter giving him away. Marg is next to him, whispering and animatedly moving her hands. As I talk the group into their next pose, I quietly shimmy around them to meet the Newhouses.

"Hey," I say softly in the sweetest tone I can muster. "I'm thinking it might be better to take pictures from the front instead of getting their, um, behinds. I'm not sure anyone wants their bums on the front page of the paper, you know?"

Marg waves me off and instructs her nephew to continue. When I open my mouth to object, she interrupts by gruffly stating, "Sex sells."

"Yes," I hedge, deliberating how to deliver my rebuttal with tact. "But I'm trying to foster an environment where people feel calm and safe...and not be exploited as soft-core porn for Lake Hope's geriatric population." Shit, that just slipped out. Whoops.

Grabbing Mark's arm, I usher him to the front of the group. "See, this angle is much better, yeah?"

Before I can return to my mat, Marg corners me, and speaks out of the corner of her mouth that only practiced moms have perfected. "I know things about you, young lady. You and that Ledger boy think you're so secretive. But us 'geriatric population' see you."

My mouth drops open, and I stammer. "Um...what?"

"Leo saw you two canoodling on a porch in that fancy part of town. Lakeside Drive." She raises a single brow at me as if challenging me to deny it.

"Canoodling? No. Nope. Just a friendly beer between friends. No partaking of any said canoodling." Jesus, why does this lady make me feel like a child being scolded?

When Marg continues to direct that judgmental brow at me, I whisper-beg, "Please do not put any of this in your gossip column." The brow holds firmly, and I squirm. "Don't you have some sort of journalistic ethics to uphold?"

Finally, the brow relaxes. "I heard from a little birdie that you want to join the Paperback Riders, but I'm sorry to disappoint you, dearie. The club is no place for a prude." With that statement, she leaves me open-mouthed, and hauls her nephew away by the elbow. It feels like I'm witnessing my dreams being dragged away by a lady in a sex dress.

-

BY THE END OF THE WORKDAY, I'm ready to be done. I have a lingering headache from the hour I wrestled my hair on top of my head and my body is sore from all the stretching. Obviously, I need to make more time for yoga if my aches and pains are any indication.

I yank the apron over my head, revealing my yoga clothes from earlier, and I can't help the small smile that creeps across my face. Despite the minor setback with Marg's disapproving and judgy eyebrow, the first day of Yoga on the Farm was a success. Many chattered about seeing me next week as they waved goodbye. Vivi gushed about the children, her face flushed and hair messily sticking up in all directions.

After locking up the shop, I pull out my phone to send out a quick text as I walk across the farm toward the offices.

ME: Attention, pervs: Marg and her nephew documented farm yoga. From behind. Your pervy wishes may come true. Stay tuned for this week's paper.

FINN: Fuck yeah. I knew I loved that old bat.

CHARLIE: I'll grab a few copies. Who needs one?

SULLY: Me.

I chuckle as I push through the doors to the office building and make my way toward my brother's office. I knock lightly before letting myself in. Jensen sits at his desk, his head bowed over his phone.

"Hey, bro," I announce myself.

He glances up and points his phone at me. "Your brothers are the worst."

"Your brothers. I don't claim them."

He laughs, setting his phone done. "How'd it go, though? Was Marg really there?"

I groan. "Yes! And I'm pretty sure she threatened me when I asked kindly that she didn't exploit the women for her geriatric audience. I may have even thrown the term soft-core porn out there, too."

He laughs, shaking his head. "You don't mess with that woman."

"No shit. At this rate, I'll never get into the Paperback Riders." I sink into a chair by the window and cross my arms over my chest.

"What is it with all you girls wanting to be a part of that weird cult anyway? Teddy is totally brainwashed, I swear."

"Jensen! They read smut. And discuss it. With a themed meeting. What is there not to get?" I throw my arms out in exasperation. "Your girl isn't brainwashed. She's soaking in the awesome."

He crosses the room to sit in the worn armchair next to me. "If you say so."

I try to mimic Marg's brow raising and fail miserably. "I do say." I laugh at his confused expression and then change the subject. "Actually, J, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Ok. Should I be worried? Last time you wanted to talk to me about something you were calling me out for being a shitty boyfriend." He man-spreads in his chair, his expression wary.

"Totally deserved, too," I say with a laugh. "But, no, not that. And before you can interrupt me and tell me I need to move on already, just hear me out, ok?" I pause only briefly, not giving my brother any time to object. "What if that mystery birth certificate in Uncle Don's safety deposit box is our long-lost sibling?"

His widening eyes are the only indication he heard me. When he doesn't say anything, I continue. "Hear me out. It's rumored that mom was pregnant during that year of separation. What if Uncle Don knew about this baby and has been keeping this information tucked tightly away all these years?"

"And, what," Jensen begins, sitting up straight in the chair, "mom and our uncle share this secret and only after his death does he think to toy with us until we figure it out?"

Tucking my feet under me in the chair, I ponder his question. "I don't know, J. Any way you think about it, it's messed up. Why is there a blacked-out birth certificate in the first place? The only clue we have is that mom may have had a secret pregnancy. Ever since I found this out, all I can think about is the possibility that we have a brother or a sister out there somewhere. Do they know about us? Are they looking for us? What was their life like? Was it shitty? Do they hate us? I know you want me to let this go, but I just can't, Jensen. There are too many what-ifs and loose ends. Don't you want to know?"

He sighs, leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs. Turning his head to look at me, he says, "I don't know, Sutton. Maybe it's better left alone. Who knows what you might dig up. Maybe it has stayed hidden all these years for a reason."

Before I have a chance to argue my point, the door bursts open, crashing against the wall as Teddy and Rylie enter arm-in-arm. "It's margarita time, bitches!" Rylie announces.

"It's what time?" Jensen asks as he rises from his seat and crosses the room in a few steps, pulling his girlfriend into him for a kiss.

"Gross, put the tongues away," Rylie gags. "You can have her later, because tonight we drink margaritas!"

She seems to notice me for the first time, and an evil smile lights her face. "Looky who we have here. Sutton Button! Jensen, invite your bestie. This just turned into a party!"

"A party?" Jensen questions with dread.

"No, no, no," Teddy placates. "Not a party. Just a small BBQ. Right, Ry?"

"What's this I hear about a party?" a fifth voice asks from the doorway.

"Finnegan," Rylie purrs. "Impeccable timing. Want to join us for our margarita party, errr, BBQ?"

"Now your crazy friend has invite rights?" Jensen asks Teddy, his arm clinging possessively around her waist. "Should we just invite the whole damn town?"

"Nope. That won't be necessary. Everyone is here except your bestie. Text him now. Chop chop." Rylie snags Teddy by the hand, trying to extricate her from Jensen's tight grip. "She's mine tonight, buddy. Learn to share."

Once she's freed Teddy, Rylie gestures to me. "Come on, little pup. Let's get you freshened up, yeah?"

Standing, I glance down at my yellow tank top and black yoga shorts, and I run a hand through my tangled hair. "What's wrong with the way I look?"

Rylie looks me up and down. "Nothing, if you like that fresh from a workout look. Come along."

As we make the short walk out the office building and then up the stairs to Teddy's apartment, Rylie pulls me to her side and whispers, "You're welcome."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

About a half an hour later, we're trudging back down the stairs with a pitcher of margaritas and a tray full of meat to BBQ. As we round the corner, we're assaulted by two dogs, one small and one large.

"Scout! Bad boy!" Teddy yells, shooing her dog away with her foot as he tries to knock the tray of meat out of her hands.

The big dog pauses in front of me, her blonde, bushy tail waving back and forth. I kneel before her, wrapping her in a big hug. "Hey there, Lexi. How's my girl?" I'm greeted with enthusiastic slobbery kisses that knock me onto my butt, and I shriek with laughter.

"Hey, down girl. Off." The voice reverberates through my body, and I suck in a breath. A man is revealed once the dog is pulled away, a smirk greeting me. "Hey, baby girl," he says in a teasing voice that instantly grates against my nerves, and I cringe involuntarily. "Like making out with my dog?"

Kelly pulls me to my feet, and I resume our typical banter, resentfully reverting to our usual public behavior around each other. Crossing my arms across my chest in a defiant pose, I spit out, "Don't call me that." The statement is harsher than I intended, but it wasn't until I heard the taunting way he called me the pet name that I realized it sounds different when he says it with an audience. In private it feels softer, more intimate...less like an insult.

I'm busy dusting the dirt off my butt that I almost miss the look of hurt that briefly crosses his face, but he schools it quickly. I'm preoccupied nursing my own hurt feelings to have room for his, and I brush by him to join the others on the patio.

Jensen is setting up his BBQ station by the grill, Teddy talking animatedly next to him. Finn stands over Rylie, who is seated at the table with a margarita in one hand. "Wily Rylie, don't be like that."

"Like what?" I ask, sinking into a chair at the table. I help myself to a margarita, and Finn holds out an empty glass toward me to fill him up.

"Nu uh," Rylie tsks, taking the cup from him. "I already told you. These are for the girls. You get beer." She points at a cooler off to the side. Kelly stands next to it, chugging a perspiring bottle of beer.

Finn joins Kelly, and a few minutes later they are challenging each other to a game of basketball. I sip my margarita in silence, sulking, trying to dissect why exactly the way Kelly called me "baby girl" bothered me so much.

"Do you think people act differently when they're around other people?" I absently ask, my eyes fixed on the basketball game.

Rylie follows my gaze and huffs a laugh. "If you mean that hunky piece of man meat, yeah, for sure. I'm guessing he treats you differently when it's just the two of you?"

I wave her off. "I meant it hypothetically, of course."

"Of course." She grins. "Hypothetically, if a guy acts differently in public, specifically with you and him in mind," she says, nodding toward Kelly, "it's probably because his feelings for you are supposed to be secret. Yeah?"

"What now?" I say, nearly spilling my drink. "There are no feelings. Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, you big dum-dum, there most definitely are feelings."

Teddy joins us at the table, pouring herself a margarita. "Who are we hypothetically analyzing today?" She glances over as Finn nearly tackles the ball from Kelly, and the move is followed by Kelly shouting something about it being basketball, not football.

Teddy turns back to us. "Oh, never mind. The hypothetical is obvious. Ignore me."

"Nothing is obvious," I scoff, glaring at them.

"Sutton here wants to know—hypothetically, of course—why someone would act differently in private than they do in public," Rylie explains before slurping up some of the icy drink.

Teddy studies me and I resist the urge to crawl under the table and hide. I regret bringing up the topic. I should know better with these two. "Of course he acts different around us, Sutton. Hypothetically," Teddy amends. "I mean, his best friend—your brother—is right there." She gestures across the patio where Jensen mans the grill, smoke billowing around him. "Shit," she cusses. "He's probably charring our burgers. Should I say something? Nah, I'll let it go. I'm far too into this conversation."

I roll my eyes. "Anywho..." I say, attempting to move the conversation along. "Finn, huh?" I turn to Rylie.

"Finn?" She cackles. "Yeah right. That man-child couldn't handle me. Besides, you can't change the subject. We have a vested interest in this hypothetical situation now. Right, Teddy?"

Teddy nods with her straw in her mouth, taking a long drink. "Yep. 'Fraid so."

Groaning, I walk away from the gossiping table to join my brother. "Teddy says that you better not char our burgers or there's no sex for a week."

Jensen spins around and yells, "What the fuck, baby?"

Teddy throws her head back and laughs, obviously realizing I threw her under the bus somehow. "Don't believe anything your sister says. She's just salty."

The basketball bounces past us and Finn whizzes by after it. I glance up to find Kelly looking at me. I fidget with the hem of my tank top, bouncing the weight of my body from foot to foot, uneasy under his gaze. Now I'm regretting my decision not to let Rylie "freshen me up" since I'm still in my yoga clothes from this morning.

He tips his head toward the hoop. "Wanna play, Sutton?" My name is pronounced deliberately, each syllable a staccato beat from his mouth. It's the smirk that accompanies it that annoys me the most, though. I'd almost forgotten the way he treated me before...before what? The kiss? No, it was before then, right? There's been a subtle shift happening for weeks. It's hard to pinpoint when exactly. The difference only seems obvious now since we haven't hung out in a group setting in quite a while.

"Yeah, I'll pass," I say, turning my back on him to talk to my brother. Only once the dribbling of the ball resumes do I risk a glance in his direction. He's busy blocking Finn, and I take it as my cue to wander back to the table.

"Tell me how I can get into this cult you're in," I demand as I fall back into my chair, retrieving my mostly melted margarita.

"Cult?" Rylie questions, then turns to her best friend. "Are we in a cult I don't know about?"

"She means the Paperback Riders," Teddy explains. "J is convinced it's a cult."

"Course he does," she says with a laugh. "But poor Sutton Button is most definitely not ready for the cult, is she, Teddy?"

Teddy peruses me intently. "Hmmm. Hard to say. Where's this coming from? Is it because Marg crashed yoga this morning?"

"She called me a prude!" I must yell it louder than I thought because all three guys stop what they're doing to look at me.

"Who called you a prude?" Finn asks with an amused expression. He tucks the ball under his arm and walks over to the table, Kelly following behind him.

I avoid looking at Kelly and attempt to hide the blush warming my cheeks. "Fuck off. Mind your biz."

"Are you messing around with those stupid dating apps again, baby girl?" Kelly asks, his voice deceptively light, but I catch the agitated undertones. I briefly meet his eyes before looking away.

"Settle, lover boy," Rylie coos. "Our girl here was just about to explain why Marg called her a prude this morning at yoga."

"Actually," I interject, refilling my margarita glass, "I wasn't." I sit back in the chair, defiantly taking a drink.

"A brat as always, I see." Kelly's smirk greets me as I meet his eyes.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. "If you must know, apparently Leo saw us having beers on the porch of your flip and spread gossip about us 'canoodling'. Pretty sure Marg threatened me with this info after I asked her to please not exploit the women in tight yoga pants as they downward dogged in front of her nephew's camera. And something about referring to said pics as soft-core porn for her geriatric audience."

Everyone bursts into laughter, except Kelly, who is eyeing me fervidly.

"You did not call her audience geriatric!" Rylie hoots with laughter.

"She was right with the prude label," Finn declares. "We deserve to see this soft-core porn in action, Sutton. It's our right as citizens of this boring ass town."

I roll my eyes. "Fuck off, Finn. You're disgusting."

"Canoodling?" Kelly's voice is low, a controlled calm. "What the fuck does that mean? And what was the threat?"

I wave him away, feigning nonchalance by sipping my drink, but I'm a tad uncomfortable under his acute attention.

"Sutton." My name is uttered as a barely disguised warning. His jaw works furiously as he clenches his teeth.

"Kelly," I mimic his fervency, the game familiar by now.

"Ooohh, this is fun!" Rylie cheers, clapping her hands excitedly. "Is it always this intense?" she whispers to me behind her hand.

Kelly rounds the table and pulls me to my feet. When he begins tugging me away from the group, I protest, digging my heels in. "What the hell, Kelly? You can't just manhandle me."

He loosens his grip, caressing his thumb over the skin on my wrist. "Sorry." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Will you please come with me a second?"

I nod, and he leads me around the building, pausing once we're out of eyesight or earshot. Leaning against the brick siding, he crosses his arms over his chest. "Explain."

"It's not a big deal, Kelly. You're blowing this out of proportion."

"Let me be the judge of that, yeah?"

With a sigh, I lean against the building next to him. "Fine. Marg just said that Leo saw us 'canoodling' in the rich part of town and we're not fooling anyone because the 'geriatric community' sees everything. Then when she wouldn't confirm or deny whether she was going to publish this nonsense in the paper, I accused her of not having any journalistic ethics or something."

He narrows his eyes at me while the words I spewed marinate. "And the prude part?"

Rolling my eyes, I explain, "Apparently, this whole thing proves I'm a prude, which also proves that I'm not Paperback Riders material."

"Paper what?"

"The spicy book club," I say as if it's obvious, the "duh" in my tone apparent.

"I'm not even going to pretend to care what that is. I only care about the part where she threatened you."

"That is the threat, dummy! To never be invited to the smut club!"

"Sutton." He pulls away from the wall, standing to his full, imposing height. "This is all about some stupid book club?"

"Well, yeah. What else would it be?" The "duh" is also strongly implied here.

"Fuck, baby girl. Don't do that to me." His body sags infinitesimally with obvious relief.

I turn my head away to hide the smile threatening to crack my lips, a sudden rush of solace and unexpected emotion swooping the dormant butterflies in my belly. He uttered the pet name in the sweet, sensual way he apparently reserves for our private meetings.

With a finger under my chin, he turns my face back to him. "What's going on right now?"

The smile breaks free. "Nothing," I deny.

He circles a finger around my face. "Seriously, Sutton. What's this?"

"I'm not allowed to smile?"

"Not when you you've been avoiding me this whole time and sending me all the bratty looks, you're not." He resumes his pose against the building.

"You're the one who's acting weird. Calling me baby girl and being all jerky." The smile slowly fades from my face.

"I always call you that." The confusion is clearly defined in his tone.

"Yeah, well, it sounds different when you say it in front of people. It's all judgy and taunting. Besides, I've told you a million times I don't like it. I know you say it just to annoy me."

"Sutton! Kelly! Time to eat!" Jensen's announcement interrupts whatever moment we're having, and I abandon our post against the building and stalk back to the patio. I take my seat and begin to fill my plate.

Kelly takes the chair opposite me, and we spend the entire meal ignoring the other. By the end, he has a collection of empty beers around his plate.

"That was good, J," Teddy says, slurping the remnants of her margarita.

"I didn't char them so there's no withholding sex," he responds, rubbing a hand along her thigh.

She barks out a laugh. "Is that what Sutton ran to you about earlier? She's so dramatic sometimes."

I roll my eyes at her grinning face. "Whatever, Teddy. You deserved it and you know it. In fact, everyone deserves some much-needed payback for how much everyone's up in my business."

"Not fair, Sutton," Rylie tsks. "You started it with your hypotheticals. You don't want to get burned, then don't play the game."

"And what game is this?" Finn asks, rubbing his hands together. "I'm not afraid of getting burned and I'm excellent at games."

"Your sister here was posing a hypothetical scenario where people act differently when in a private setting versus a public one."

"Rylie!" I shout, the warning evident in my tone.

"Ok, ok," she relents, throwing her hands up.

I reluctantly meet Kelly's gaze and my cheeks instantly heat. He seems less than thrilled by the implications of the hypothetical game. I run my hands over the goosebumps on my arms, refusing to look away first.

"Cold, baby girl?" He cocks his head, studying my reaction to the way he purposely pronounced the pet name in a seductive purr.

I catch Rylie fanning herself next to me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignore her dramatics. Instead, I tilt my head in the same manner as Kelly. "No, I'm good, Kelly." I mimic his tone.

"Oooookay," Finn says, scooting his chair back. "Anyone up for a game of basketball? Maybe boys versus girls?"

The girls groan in unison. "Pass," Teddy answers for us.

Jensen joins our brother at the hoop, and Kelly slowly follows, first stopping at the cooler for another beer.

"Jeeeesus," Rylie exclaims once only the girls remain. "Hypothetically, that was hot."

Teddy nods in agreement. "Hypothetically, you guys are so fucked."

Groaning, I bang my head against the glass tabletop. "Hypothetically, I agree."

"I feel like we've stopped using the word correctly. Hypothetically speaking, of course," Teddy says with an amused grin.

The lower the sun dips in the sky, the more the temperature drops. The goosebumps on my arms are now indeed due to the cold, and I cross my arms over my chest for warmth. When I can't stop the shivers, I debate fetching the sweatshirt I discarded in my car after yoga. Before I have a chance to do so, Kelly walks over with a flannel he seemingly plucked out of thin air and drapes it over me like a blanket. Without a word, he wanders back over to the basketball game.

I snuggle into the shirt, trying to discreetly sniff the familiar scent of Kelly, but Rylie eyes me knowingly. "Shut it," I preempt whatever is about to come out of her mouth and she laughs.

I sit up to put on the shirt, my hands drowning in the sleeves. I don't bother rolling them, preferring the warmth of being nestled in a piece of Kelly. I already know I'm going to sneak the shirt home with me, claim it the way I did his other one.

Later, once it's too dark to see further than a few feet in front of us and the bugs are swarming around the lights surrounding the patio, we decide to call it a night.

"Wait up, Sutton," Kelly calls before I can take off. "I'll walk you to your car."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Don't be a brat. I just want to make sure you're safe."

"Safe from what? We're alone on my family farm," I argue.

"He's right, Sutton," Jensen interjects like the overprotective brother he is. "It's a bit of a walk to your car. You never know who or what could be out there when it's dark like this."

"Fine, whatever," I relent. "Let's do this then."

We walk side by side, and he periodically bumps into me. At first, I think it's like the other day at the house he's flipping where he kept finding excuses to touch me, but then I realize he's a bit unsteady on his feet.

"You look good in my clothes, baby girl." His words are a little slurred.

"How much have you had to drink, Kell?"

When he shrugs, I follow up with another question. "Are you ok to drive?"

"Are you worried about me?"

We've reached my car and I pull the keys from my purse, the car lighting up when I hit the unlock button. I hesitate, studying him. "Maybe don't drive just to be safe, ok? I could give you a ride. Or Finn."

In response, he pulls me into a hug. I reluctantly wrap my arms around his waist, and we linger like this in the dark parking lot for a while. I hear him inhaling my hair before running his nose along my neck. He mumbles something against my skin that sounds a lot like, "If only."

When I ask him what he said, he straightens, pulling out of the hug. Tucking my hair behind my ear, he shakes his head. "Nothing, baby girl." He wears a smile that's bathed in sadness. Or longing. Or regret. Or, probably, I'm projecting my own feelings again.

Once I'm in my car driving along the dark, gravel road that leads to town, I use voice commands to text Jensen to take away Kelly's keys.

Later, as I'm lying in bed, sleep evading me for what feels like hours, I hear my phone vibrate with a text. I know who it's from without even looking, and I consider ignoring it, not entirely certain I can handle anymore conflicting and confusing behavior from Kelly tonight. But, in the end, I cave and reach for my phone.

KELLY: You asleep?
ME: No. Can't sleep.
KELLY: Me either. My mind is spinning.
ME: Too many beers?
KELLY: Probably. J made Finn drive me home. I'm pretty sure I have you to thank for that.
ME: You're welcome.
KELLY: I might owe you an apology too?
ME: An apology? For what?
KELLY: I probably shouldn't be around you when I drink. The no inhibitions thing is too dangerous.
ME: You were fine, Kelly. Nothing inappropriate was said or done. Perfect gentleman.
KELLY: K. Good.

A few beats of silence lapse, and I debate letting the conversation die, but I realize I never had the chance to tell him my plans. I weigh whether I want to invite him anymore, the night's confusing events messing with my mind. Again, I cave, and text him anyway.

ME: I was thinking of digging around my dad's attic tomorrow. Wanna join me?
KELLY: You know I do.
ME: It's a date then.
KELLY: My head doesn't feel as spinny now. I think I can sleep.
ME: Sleep tight, Kelly.
KELLY: Hey, that's my line.
ME: It's not copyrighted.
KELLY: Brat.
ME: See you tomorrow, Kell.
KELLY: Sleep tight, baby girl.