Beauty and the Mustache (16 page)

“
Hi, Ash.” His voice was
deep, strong, and quietly commanding. “You want to tell me what
happened?”

I blinked up at him, gathered a deep breath,
opened my mouth to respond, and in burst Jethro through the front
door of the cabin.

“
What the hell is going
on? The radio is going crazy with reports of a giant bear on the
rampage and gunshots in this location. When I pulled up I found
these…” Jethro held up his underwear, my shirt, his backpack, and a
bag of walnuts, “…all over the side of the hill along with dead
raccoon bits sticking to my shit like confetti,
and…Ashley?”

Jethro glanced from Drew
to me then back again. He seemed to be taking in my appearance: the
scratches and fresh bruises on my arms, the dirt on my face, and
the lack of shirt covering my torso.

His demeanor grew at once
ominous and severe; he changed so abruptly that I flinched. His
eyes were like glinting daggers as they settled to where Drew’s
hand rested on my thigh.

His dark eyes lifted to
Drew’s and held his with a menacing glare. “You want to tell me
what you think you’re doing to my baby sister?”

“
Because sometimes people
who seem good end up being not as good as you might have
hoped.”

―
Jonathan Safran Foer,
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

The first time
I told the story of the bear-scare rabid-raccoon
attack, I did it in a rush so that my oldest brother wouldn’t
murder Drew.

As soon as Jethro had
calmed down enough to listen, Drew took off his shirt and handed it
to me.

“
There’s a sink in the
back and soap. Go wash those scrapes and, please… put this on.” He
said, his eyes averted to the floor. He didn’t look at me again
until I’d returned from the sink, my cuts and scrapes washed, the
dark gray T-shirt covering me to just above the knees of my muddy
jeans.

The second time I told the
story, it took forever. Questions were asked ad nauseam about the
size of the bear, which direction it went, where the raccoon came
from—they wanted to know the
precise
location—when I’d lost my
shirt, what happened to Jethro’s provision bag, and how I’d cut and
bruised my arms.

Drew crouched next to me
the whole time, rubbing my back at intervals or stroking my hair.
Instinctively I leaned against him, accepting his warmth and
comfort; both felt wonderful, like being submerged in a warm bath.
Jethro’s face paled when I came to the part about the rabid
raccoon; he gave me tight smiles that betrayed how helplessly
frustrated he felt with the situation.

I was just finishing with
this second recitation when more people arrived. Three additional
rangers and two state game wardens showed up, not knocking as they
entered.

Drew stood and Jethro made
quick introductions; three of them seemed to know me or recognize
me, presumably because I’d spent the first eighteen years of my
life nearby. I didn’t really look at the men or catch their names.
I did note that they all had beards; just like two weeks ago, I was
in a room with seven bearded men.

A little bubble of
laughter escaped my throat before I could catch it; it wasn’t loud,
but it did make me look a bit unhinged. I glanced at the table,
tried to focus on the sturdiness of it, the solid weight of the
wood. I rubbed my forehead and found that my hands were still
shaking; not as badly as before, but the tremors were definitely
there.

Then, I was asked to
narrate the story once more. When I related the bit about the
raccoon, all the newcomers had similar reactions to Jethro’s:
wonder and horror.

Of course adding to this
kerfuffle was the fact that Drew was shirtless. I tried to limit my
noticing, but I still noticed. How could I not? I don’t care how
unnerved a woman is, she notices when a man has a chest and back
and arms and stomach like Drew’s.

My reaction to his physical
perfection was
especially
heightened since I was still amped up on
adrenaline. If we’d been alone, he might have been in danger of a
different kind of bear attack from Ashley the bear. And he was
being attacked.

By me.

I tried not to dwell on
the fact that life and death situations apparently made me a horny
toad.

Instead, I focused on the
fact that I felt alive—really felt it—and it was good to be alive.
It was good to feel.

Jethro hovered at my side,
his hand on my shoulder during my recitation. My eyes kept
flickering to Drew’s, checking to see if he was watching me or if
it was safe to steal a glance at his bare torso. Of course, it was
never safe. He paced the room, but his eyes never moved from my
face, his expression focused. I did, however, catch his gaze
watching my mouth as I spoke, and sometimes lingering on my
neck.

This didn’t help my horny
toadness.

When I got to the part
where I took off my shirt and faced down the bear, Jethro shook his
head and Drew mumbled, “I can’t believe you did that.”

When I finished, the
menfolk began to talk among themselves, leaving me to stare dazedly
about the room. Once again, my attention focused on the oak
tabletop.

I caught the gist of their
discussion. They were arguing—well, not really arguing at
first—about making me recite the tale one more time. Jethro
maintained that I’d been through enough, that they could retell it
if needed.

The other five wanted to
hear my version again. One of the men proposed that they voice
record the story, then have me take them outside to diagram it all
out.

Voices were lifting, and I
continued to stare at the sturdy table. I’d never noticed the
intricate pattern of a wood grain before. The marks were enigmatic
and fascinating.

Then Drew was kneeling next to me. His warm
hand was on the back of my neck sending little spikes of heat down
my spine. His fingers were in my hair. He gently squeezed, bringing
my attention to him.

As usual, his eyes were
somber and ardent, but now they seemed more blue and silver and
vibrant than I remembered. I noted that he had the beginnings of
crow’s feet around his eyes; I was distracted by the striking and
bold shape of his eyebrows.

“
Ash….”

“
Yes?” He had a freckle
just below his right eye, and it was very attractive…and
distracting.

“
Sugar, are you
okay?”

“
Yes.” I
sighed. Usually I wouldn’t put up with being called
Sugar
; yet when Drew said
it, especially like that—all soft, concerned, rumbly, and
shirtless—it made me want to taste him.

Whoa…where is this coming
from? What is wrong with me?

“
What’s wrong with her?”
This came from one of the other men. “She high or
something?”

“
No, asshole,” Drew
snapped, but his eyes remained on mine. “She’s in shock, and she’s
got a lot of adrenaline in her system.”

I was aware of the room
plunging into stunned silence. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I
remembered that Drew was infamous for his lack of verbosity. I
imagined his outburst was quite a shock.

Drew’s striking and bold
eyebrows came together and he frowned, studying my face, one hand
in my hair, the other holding mine. “When is the last time you
ate?”

I shrugged.

“
We need to get some food
in you. It’s a wonder you’re still upright.”

“
Thanks for catching me,”
I said dumbly, gazing into his eyes like a lovesick teenager. I
didn’t care. He was so epically handsome, and he was being so nice,
and his hands felt so good, and he was so strong and sturdy, and
did I mention epically handsome? And shirtless?

I was vaguely aware of
another person walking into the cabin and the men shifting,
shuffling their feet, and making room for the newcomer.

“
Sugar, I’d be honored to
catch you anytime you’d like to fall.”

I opened my mouth to
respond but was distracted from Drew’s vivid eyes and attractive
freckle by the sound of my name coming from a familiar
voice.

“
Ashley? Ashley
Winston?”

I turned and blinked at my
name, my eyebrows high on my forehead. Standing on the other side
of the table was a man, and this man looked remarkably familiar.
His hair was blond and cut short, his eyes were brown, he was
approximately my age, and he was roughly six feet tall. The man was
in a blue police uniform, which fit him very, very well. He had no
beard covering his square jaw. At present, all his white teeth were
on display in a wide smile.

“
Ashley? It’s me,
Jackson.” He indicated himself with both his hands.

I frowned at the name from my past and
allowed my eyes to dart over him again.

I knew the name Jackson
exceedingly well because Jackson was the name of my high school
boyfriend and best friend growing up. But the Jackson I knew was
short and scrawny, Anderson Cooper pale, played the obo in the high
school band, and had a severe acne problem.

He was not a muscular,
six-foot police officer with a golden tan, a sandy beard, and a
manly-man voice.

“
Ashley, it’s Jackson.”
His grin became lopsided and boyish. “Don’t tell me I’ve changed
that much.”

I flinched when I finally
recognized him because he
had
changed that much, but his smile was exactly the
same.

“
Oh my dear Lord!” I
blurted then shot to my feet, letting go of Drew’s hand. “Jackson
James?”

Jackson came around the
table, nodding the whole time. “Girl, what the hell happened to
you? You look like you just fought off a black bear.”

“
You have no idea.” A
laugh tumbled from my lips as he folded me into his arms, giving me
a big hug.

Jackson withdrew but
continued to hold my hands in his. “I heard a little of it on the
radio when it was called in.” Jackson’s eyes flickered over my
shoulder to where Drew stood behind me, then they came back to rest
on my face. “I heard about your momma. I’m so sorry.”

I flinched again, this
time because I’d completely forgotten about what was going on with
my momma. I’d been entirely wrapped up in surviving; then, when it
was over and I was safe, I couldn’t seem to focus on anything
tangible except Drew’s impossibly handsome facial features, the
warmth of his hands, the deep steadiness of his voice, and his
shirtlessness.

“
I’m so sorry,” Jackson
repeated, squeezing my hand. “I wondered if you would be in town.
I’m just sorry it had to take a bear attack for us to run into each
other.”

“
I’m surprised you decided
to come all the way out here.” This comment came from Jethro, who
was suddenly at my side. My brother’s proximity forced Jackson to
drop my hands and take a step backward. “Isn’t this a little out of
your jurisdiction, Jack?”

“
Yes, to be honest. Yes it
is.” Jackson’s eyes flickered between mine and Jethro’s, his
expression open and guileless. “But the report made it sound like
there was an exchange of gunfire. And when I heard Ashley’s
name….”

I felt a hand on my hip
and a chest at my back. I deduced it was Drew’s when he whispered,
“Let me take you to get you cleaned up,” his breath warm on my
neck.

Unthinkingly, as if it was
the most natural thing in the world, I leaned back against him. He
slipped his arm around my waist and turned slightly to address the
room.

“
That’s enough,” Drew
said. “She’s done. You all need to leave.”

I wasn’t surprised when no
one argued this time, given the tone of his voice. Even if he
didn’t have several inches on every man in the room, Drew’s
commanding presence and aura of perpetual in-chargeness would have
been enough. I surmised that when Drew Runous put his foot down
about a matter, nobody was quick to contradict.

Bearded men were grabbing
their hats and muttering to each other, their shoes scuffing on the
wooden floor as they departed. I didn’t miss that Jackson’s eyes
were focused on Drew’s arm around my waist before they lifted to
mine.

“
I’ll stop by the house
this week so we can catch up.” He gave me a friendly smile. “You’re
a very lucky young lady, Ashley Winston.”

I blinked at him, but
couldn’t find the words to respond that luck had nothing to do with
my survival. Me being a badass, however, might have been involved;
also, Drew’s gun. Jackson didn’t seem to mind my silence because he
gave me a wink and left without saying anything further.

Drew turned to Jethro and
said over my head, “I’ll take her with me; you’ve got that trip to
prep for.”

Jethro squeezed my
shoulder. “Thanks.” My big brother then gave me a kiss on the
forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I nodded and Jethro gave
me an affectionate smile; he then crossed to the other rangers and
gathered what he needed for his trip.

Drew turned me toward him,
but I watched Jethro’s back as he left the cabin. When I was alone
with a shirtless Drew, I lifted my eyes to his.