Beauty and the Mustache by Penny Reid Page B

if I were
the only one who noticed. Was it a byproduct of my wonky,
grief-induced vulnerability? Were my emotions susceptible to
delusion? Was I imagining the galvanized tension between
us?
    I issued him a miniscule
smile, hoping to convey irritation, while I tried to regain the
abrupt loss of my body’s ability to regulate its temperature. I was
hot, flustered, ill prepared, and emotionally unequipped to
interact with fictionally handsome men speaking to me in intimate
tones and staring at me like I was cake.
    And what the heck was
wrong with me that I was even noticing Drew’s tone of voice? Let
alone his fictional handsomeness. My mother had just been given a
terminal diagnosis for heaven’s sake. I was wrong in the
head.
    I swallowed, finding
strength in my self-recrimination. I leaned close and whispered,
“Understand this, cowboy: I’ve surrendered nothing .”
    Inexplicably, he grinned.
It was small and knowing and smugly sexy, and I found it intensely
irritating. He quoted Nietzsche again, “‘Perhaps truth is a woman
who has grounds for not showing her grounds.’”
    I stepped away,
immediately finding relief from my muddled hormones by putting some
distance between us. I held his gaze for a beat then walked
backward to the stairs as I dismissively informed him of a real
truth. “You can kiss my grits and my grounds, Nietzsche. And while
you’re at it, go jump in a lake.”
    “ Which lake?”
    I turned away and took the
stairs two at a time, not liking that my palms had grown hot. “I
don’t care,” I called out, “Preferably one with no
water.”

CHAPTER 5
    “ There is nothing I would
not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of
loving people by halves; it is not my nature.”
    ― Jane
Austen, Northanger Abbey
    Roscoe and I drove into Knoxville to drop off the rental car.
He took Momma’s car and I took the rental. On the way back, we
stopped by the hospital to check on Momma; she was asleep, so we
met with the hospice social worker to arrange her transport
home.
    Roscoe held it together,
which was the opposite of how Winston men usually dealt with
stressful situations. Of course, this was based on previous
experience, which was now eight years out of date.
    I also held it together
despite my ping-ponging emotions with Drew from earlier that
morning and the bizarre, intimate moment that followed. But then, I
usually held it together. My motto was save your drama for your llama.
    I checked my cell phone on
the way out of town, as I wasn’t getting any reception at the
house, and saw a text message from Elizabeth. Their plane was set
to touch down at 4:15 p.m., but I needn’t rush to pick them up
because they would get a rental car. She finished the text
with we love you, girl , and that made me smile.
    The message helped, and
knowing that Elizabeth and Sandra were coming gave me a sense of
calm reassurance, even if it was only temporary. I felt like I was
surrounded by strangers. These brothers who I thought I knew were turning out to be
a mystery wrapped in an enigma, slathered in conundrum flavored
cream cheese.
    Since Roscoe and I only
had each other as company for the hour drive home, I encouraged my
youngest brother—who was now six-foot-two—to dish the dirt on the
older ones.
    Except, there was no dirt
to dish.
    “ So, Jethro is a park
ranger? How’d that happen?” I briefly wondered why my mother hadn’t
said anything about it. Even though she rarely spoke about my
brothers during our daily phone calls, Jethro cleaning himself up
and becoming a park ranger seemed like it would’ve been pretty big
news.
    “ It’s awesome, right?”
Roscoe’s smile was immediate and proud. “It’s a pretty funny story.
Jethro was…well, you know. He was stealing cars and partying, but
he was smart about it. That boy was arrested so many times, but he
was never charged. He was damn lucky.”
    “ I remember. The day I
left for college he was coming home from lockup.” I could