No More Secrets: A Small Town Love Story (The Pierce Brothers Book 1) (9 page)

Thank God, Beckett was still the same obnoxious smartass. Some things would never change.

Carter disconnected a wire and cleaned up the contact.

Only a few days ago, he would have been doing this with the certainty of solitude. No one asking him a thousand questions. No one to keep from injuring herself. He could just grab a sandwich for lunch and eat on the go. No one sleeping in the guest room wearing those little cotton shorts and tank top so thin he could see her —

His hand slipped and his knuckles grazed a bolt, drawing blood. “Son of a bitch!” Just the thought of Summer turned him into a ham-fisted moron.

He crawled out from under the trailer and was wrapping his hand with a mostly clean rag when he heard the yelling.

He was out the door in a flash and was halfway to the house when he spotted what was causing the commotion.

Clementine had Jax by the jeans and at the rate she was going, there wouldn’t be much left. Summer was standing on the other side of the fence with the pigs, watching through her fingers in horror as the goat devoured his pants.

“Get off me,” Jax bellowed, trying to drag the denim from Clementine’s teeth. “Jesus, are you on fucking steroids?”

He spun around, once and then twice, but the goat held on.

Jax gave one more tug and it was too much for the fabric. The back pocket and a good portion of his underwear were ripped clean.

Clementine trotted away with her prize. “Goddamn it! Those were Hanros,” he said, clutching at his shredded underwear.

Summer’s horror turned to giggles. Jax turned to glare at her.

“I’m sorry, Jackson!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t mean to laugh at you.”

Jax pushed past Carter muttering how much he hated that “stupid fucking goat.”

“Welcome home, Hollywood,” Carter called after him.

Jax mustered as much dignity as he could with his bare ass hanging out and raised his middle finger high as he stomped up the porch steps. “Fuck you, Carter.”

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W
ith the CSA shares sorted and Carter nowhere in sight, Summer decided she would head into town. She had jeans to buy and, after pizza last night, she wanted to get a better feel for Blue Moon.

She changed out of her work clothes and was leaving a note for Carter in the kitchen when Jax came in through the side door.

“Don’t you clean up nice?”

“I don’t always have vegetable dirt smeared all over me,” she laughed. “I’m heading into town. I need more jeans.”

“Clem get you, too?”

“First day here. They were True Religion.” She grimaced.

“Damn goat. She’s got good taste. Mind if I tag along with you? I’ve got some shopping of my own to do.”

“Sure.”

“Just let me get changed. I’ll meet you out front.”

Five minutes later, Jax was sliding the passenger seat in Summer’s rental all the way back. Those long Pierce legs required a lot of room.

“So where’s the best place to buy goat-proof jeans?” Summer asked, guiding the car down the driveway.

“There’s McCafferty’s on the square. They’ve got some heavier-duty options,” Jax said, running a hand through his short, choppy hair.

He was a little leaner than his brothers. Jax topped out an inch or two over six feet, but the profile, the walk, the eyes, they were all Pierce. He had a vibe that was uniquely his, though. Where Carter was the peaceful warrior and Beckett the cautious, by-the-book politician, Jax threw off the air of enigmatic artist.

Joey must have been head over heels for him in high school, Summer thought.

McCafferty’s Farm Supply took up all three floors of the skinny white clapboard building at the end of the square. From the outside it looked just as tidy as the rest of the buildings flanking the green, but on the inside it was crammed full of chaos from top to bottom.

There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the organization. Gas-powered generators sat next to a rounder of coveralls and extension cords. Horse bridles hung from pegboard behind a stacked display of wax logs. Cowboy hats and flowered straw hats were clumped together on top of every flat surface.

“Oh, my.”

Jax laid a hand on her shoulder. “Most of the clothes are upstairs and if we’re careful we can avoid —”

One of those flowered hats floated toward them.

“Jackson Pierce, as I live and breath!”

The hat, and the short, round woman under it emerged from the sales floor. She was wearing thick glasses and a denim shirt embroidered with the McCafferty logo.

“Miz McCafferty!” The enthusiasm in Jax’s voice didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I haven’t seen you in what is it now? Eight years? You lit out of town right before graduation after that horrible accident. My, you’ve grown,” she said, eyeing him appreciatively. “You Pierce boys sure give us ladies lots to look at in Blue Moon.” She perched her elbows on the register counter. “I hear you’re a big-time movie maker now.”

“I just write ‘em, Miz McCafferty. Someone else makes ‘em.”

“Now, who’s being modest?” she chuckled. “Notice I’m not asking what Joey thinks of you coming home. I’m no busybody. No siree. I keep my nose in my own business. Although, I’m sure you’ve been getting peppered with questions since you came home ...” She waited for him to fill in the blank.

“This morning.”

“Right, this morning.” She smiled, knowing she had hit fresh gossip. “Now what can I help you find?”

Jax shoved Summer toward the stairs. “We’re just here for some jeans.”

“Oh, hi there, Summer!” Mrs. McCafferty called. “I didn’t recognize you there with the wrong Pierce brother. If there’s anything you two need, just let me know.” She was already reaching for her cellphone as Jax shoved Summer up the stairs in front of him.

“And you willingly came back to this?” Summer wondered, climbing to the second floor.

“You know how sometimes with time and distance you can romanticize things?”

“Yeah?”

“I think with time and distance, I forgot all about Miz McCafferty.”

“She’d be heartbroken to hear you say that.”

“Jeans are over here,” Jax said pointing to the back corner.

They were piled on the floor, stacked on shelves, and hung from clothing rods. It was a mountain of denim.

“How do you find anything?” Summer asked.

“Just start digging.”

It took her ten minutes to find two pairs of jeans in her size plus a pair of comfy looking cargo pants. On the bright side, all three together were still significantly cheaper than the pair sampled by Clementine.

“We can try everything on in there,” Jax, holding an armful of clothing, pointed to two stalls cordoned off with sagging rope and tarp that acted as fitting room curtains. “I’ll take this one,” Jax said, gesturing to the room with the curtain that sagged to mid-chest.

Summer gratefully pulled the tarp closed on the room with slightly taller coverage and was delighted to find that all three pairs of pants fit perfectly. The jeans had reinforced stitching and seats and would look great with her boots. The cargos were as comfortable as sweatpants, and looked much nicer on her butt.

She exited the room, pleased with her finds, and was greeted by a shirtless Jax digging through a messy pile of t-shirts.

Wow. Those Pierce genes were experts in crafting perfection.

“Find what you need?” Jax asked, oblivious to her gawking.

“I think so.”

“You might want to consider a couple of three dollar t-shirts,” he said, tossing her a cherry red V-neck.

Back into the fitting room she went. She heard Jax’s phone ring next door.

“What’s up?”

“Yeah, she’s with me.”

“What are we doing? We’re getting naked.”

Summer heard his quick laugh. “
Relax.
We’re enhancing our farm wardrobes at McCafferty’s.”

Jax was quiet for a minute. “How about we bring home dinner? Will that make you less of a dick? You call it in. We’ll pick it up.”

Okay. Later.” He hung up. “I’m breaking a brotherly code here, but Carter was not happy about the idea of you getting naked with me,” he called over the tarp.

Summer was glad he couldn’t see the blush creep across her face. “He’s probably protective of all his houseguests.”

Jax laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Summer.”

By the time they left, Summer had amassed a collection of pants, shorts, t-shirts, and a baseball hat all for less than the pair of destroyed jeans. Flushed with success, she gleefully tossed the haul in the trunk of her car.

“Wow, you can’t buy a t-shirt for thirty dollars let alone three in Manhattan.”

“L.A., too. Those underwear Clem satanically destroyed cost me seventy-five.” He threw his bag in the trunk and closed the lid. “What else do you want to see while we’re here?”

Summer looked down the street. “What’s OJ by Julia?” she asked, spotting a colorful chalkboard sign in front of a neon green shop a few buildings down.

“Organic juice shop. Ever have a wheatgrass shot with an apple ginger juice chaser?” Jax asked.

“Can’t say that I have,” Summer laughed.

“Well, let’s give it a whirl.”

OJ by Julia was just as colorful on the inside as the out. Deep purple cushioned benches slid up against lime green wainscoting and flanked black tables. Stainless steel industrial lighting fixtures highlighted coolers of mason jars filled with colorful juices. There was a bar with high-backed stools and the menu was written in a charming script on blackboard in neon chalk.

A lavender head popped up from behind the counter.

“Well, well, well. Jackson Pierce. Of all the juice joints in all the world, you had to walk into mine.”

“Julia,” Jax grinned. “Look at you all entrepreneurial.”

She scooted out from behind the counter, leading with a very pregnant belly. “And pregnant as all hell,” she said, hugging him as best she could.

“You were pregnant at Dad’s funeral, weren’t you? This still the same one?” Jax teased.

“That was my first. We’re on our third now.”

“Holy shit, Jules.”

“I know, I know. But Rob and I wanted to get them all out of the way before we’re too old to play or tackle them when they’re awful.” She tossed her light purple curls out of her face. “Now what can I do for you two?”

“My friend Summer here has never had wheatgrass.” Jax said pulling out one of the stools for her.

“Well, Summer, you’re in for a treat. First wheatgrass is on the house,” Julia winked.

“I’m anxious to try liquid grass.” Summer sat, as Julia cut spears of green grass from a potted flat on the counter.

“Summer’s here doing an article on the farm,” Jax said, taking the seat next to her.

“I know,” Julia winked. “But I find it incredibly rude when strangers skip over the whole introduction part even though they already know who you are and where you got your cowboy boots.”

“Not to mention creepy,” Summer added.

“You get used to it eventually,” Julia said running the blades of grass through a hand-cranked juicer. Juice the color of spring clover trickled into the shot glass.

She wiped her hands on her apron and put a glass in front of each of them.

“Cheers,” Jax said, raising his glass.

“Cheers.” Summer echoed, clinked hers to his. She briefly wondered whether she should hold her nose but decided to just go for it. She downed it quickly like medicine.

“It’s sweet,” she said in surprise.

“What did you expect?” Julia teased.

“I think something that tasted a little more like dirt. Are there health benefits?”

“Oh, lord,” Jax chuckled. “Prepare to be educated by Dr. Juice.”

“The benefits of drinking clean, fresh juice are numerous,” Julia began.

Twenty minutes later, Jax helped Summer lug her eight jars of juice to the car. “Between the clothes and the juice, this qualifies as a shopping spree in Blue Moon. You and your purchases will be all over Facebook.”

“And you will too, by association.”

They swung by Righteous Subs, a tiny sandwich shop squeezed between the bank and Karma Kustard, to pick up dinner before heading home.

“I had fun today. Thanks for being my shopping buddy,” Summer said. It sure beat harvesting lettuce.

“No problem. It’s nice to ease back into life here.”

“Is it rude if I ask about the accident Mrs. McCafferty was talking about? I promise, you can tell me to shut up and I’ll only be moderately offended.”

Jax eyed her over his sunglasses. “I can see Blue Moon is already rubbing off on you.”

“Very funny.”

“Joey and I used to date, as I’m sure you’re aware,” Jax said. “Right before graduation we were in a car accident. I was driving.”

He said the words casually, but the way his fingers gripped his leg was anything but casual. She let it drop.

“So. Why did you come back?”

He sighed and propped an elbow on the door. “Your picture.”

“What picture?”

“The picture on your blog of Joey.”

“But I just posted it yesterday.”

“I told you, I have a Google alert set up for the farm. I’ve been thinking about coming back for a while. And when I clicked that link and saw her I knew it was time.”

“Just like that?”

“Booked a red-eye, and here I am.”

“And you’re back for good?”

“If she’ll have me.”

“You think there’s a chance.”

“Oh, I know there’s a chance.”

“She hit you pretty hard. You might have a concussion and be delusional.”

“Funny girl. That just means she still has feelings for me,” he winked.

Summer found his confidence endearing. And maybe a little naïve.

“What about all your stuff in L.A.? Your house, your seventy-five dollar underwear collection, your job?”

He shrugged again. “It’ll keep.”

She let that drop, too.

“So you write movies?” she asked, changing the subject. 

They talked writing and process until Summer turned toward the farm.

“Do you mind if we make one more stop? There’s one last thing on my shopping list.”

E
rnest Washington’s used car lot occupied an acre on the outskirts of town. EW’s VWs specialized in restoring vintage Volkswagen buses. There were five of them gleaming bright in a rainbow of color against the road.