The skin of my breasts, only half covered in my hot pink bra, burns with fire under Noah’s gaze, and I pull the shirt on over my head, feeling Noah’s hands brush my arms as he reaches up to help pull it down over my body.
I fix my hat again, his fingers still gripping the hem below my hips.
I’m afraid to meet his eyes but I can feel the heat rolling off him.
“The local guys don’t talk to you,” he orders in a raspy voice. “They don’t touch you tonight. Do you understand?”
I nod, still not meeting his gaze. My heart pumps so hard it hurts, but my stomach is flipping like I’m riding a roller coaster.
He finally releases me and backs up. “It looks nice.”
What does?
Oh, the shirt. Right.
“Tiernan,” someone calls.
And I dart past him to get my prescription, anything to get away.
Hours later, I’m twirling in my room, smiling as my new summer dress fans out along with my hair. It’s too cold to wear this tonight, but I’m going to anyway. After seeing it on sale in a shop earlier, I got an itch to clean under my fingernails and put on some make-up for my birthday dinner, since this could very well be the last time we hit town. A storm is coming.
U2’s “Dancing Barefoot”plays, and I move, closing my eyes and running my hands up under my hair. My homework is desperately late, I have missed calls—probably birthday wishes from Mirai and friends of my parents—and my shipment of paperbacks to get me through the winter is delayed in Denver, but… I deleted all my social media and I’m now a legal adult, completely in charge of where I can go and what I can do, so any weight on my shoulders feels a lot lighter now. I’m actually excited, even though the guys are busy dreading the boring coming months.
I spin and spin, but then I spot a figure out of the corner of my eye and stumble to a stop, seeing Kaleb standing in the hallway. He looks like he just came down from his room, paused in the middle of pulling on his T-shirt as he watches me.
My pulse quickens. It’s unsettling to have his attention, because I’m never sure what he’s thinking, but I always feel like it’s not good.
Stalking over, I kick the door shut, smiling to myself as I pick up my heels and sit on the bed, sliding my feet in. I feel great, and I’m not letting him ruin my night. Carter, my parents’ security, is taking care of the house back in L.A., Mirai and our lawyer are handling all of my parents’ estate business, and for the first time in my life I get to be a kid tonight. Smiling, laughing, playing, being around people who care about me… It seems weird that I finally get that on the day I become an adult, but I won’t analyze it. I’m taking it.
Buckling up my Louboutins, a Christmas gift from my parents last year—courtesy of Mirai, of course—set with pretty crystals and five-inch heels, I grab a cream-colored shawl to go over my dark pink dress and head out of the room.
Kaleb is long gone, and I carry the shawl as I fluff up my loose curls and smooth out my dress. It’s simple and innocent, but totally not me. Backless and short—falling mid-thigh—it has a deep cleavage and spaghetti straps. My heels clack on the wooden stairs, and I walk through the living room, seeing the guys around the table as I set my shawl and phone down and go for my purse.
Digging out my license and cash, I turn and hand it to my uncle. “Would you hold this in your wallet?” I ask. “It saves me from carrying a bag.”
But he just looks at me, kind of scowling.
“What?” I say.
“You’re overdressed.”
I tsk, giving him a coy smile as I stuff my card and money in his hand. “There’s no such thing.”
Of course, compared to them I am overdressed. They’re all in jeans, Noah double-fisting Budweisers.
“People don’t dress like that here,” Jake points out.
And he really didn’t need to say that. It’s not like I haven’t noticed.
“I don’t fit in anywhere,” I tell him. “I’m used to it.”
Seriously. I feel good. Stop hyperventilating.
He cocks an eyebrow and turns away, and I can see Noah’s concerned gaze flash to his.
Jake finally shoves a large package over to me, exquisitely wrapped in silver paper with a big silver bow.
I reach for it. “What’s this?”
It’s a weird shape.
But all he says is, “Open it.”
The paper looks just as pretty as everything under my Christmas trees growing up, and I can’t help but feel the smile I’m wearing. I know he knows what’s inside. Which means he picked it out. Hell, he might’ve even wrapped it, too.
I rip the paper, tearing it off in large sheets and picking at the scraps until the whole thing comes into view, and I look at the compound bow with a pink camouflage pattern and six arrows.
I pick it up. “Wow.”
“Do you know how to shoot it?” my uncle asks.
“A little.” I fist the grip and draw the band back, aiming toward the fridge. “I haven’t used one in a long time.”
And I’ve never used a compound bow. They didn’t have these at camp.
“Noah set up a target in the barn,” he tells me. “You can practice before we take it out hunting.”
I drop my arms and look at him. “Hunting?”
They all stand silent, and I gaze around at them as if there was a stipulation in my contract for living here that I missed.
“I don’t think I want to do that.” I set the bow down on the table. I’ll cook the meat. I’m not supplying it, though.
But Noah just laughs, and Jake shakes his head.
“We’ll talk about it,” he says.
Just as long as it’s not today.
“Well, thank you.” I give him a peck on the cheek. “I really love it.”
He nods once but won’t meet my eyes. He clears his throat. “I’ll go warm up the truck.”
I grab my wrap and swing it around my shoulders. An Aran Islands sweater from Mirai to keep me warm this winter, a shirt and hat to help me blend in with the locals, and a new toy. Better than any birthday so far.
But as I move to follow Jake, Kaleb steps in front of me, stopping me.
I look up.
He pauses a moment before he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a long strap of dark brown leather.
I narrow my eyes as he offers it to me.
The horn outside honks, but we stay, Noah approaching my side.
“What’s this?” I reach out and take it, threading it through my hand and turning it over.
“He makes them,” Noah says.
It’s a belt. Dark and tanned with carvings in the leather and an antique-looking silver buckle. I study the etchings. There are trees, a waterfall, the peak—the view from my bedroom window, actually—something that looks like a braid of hair, a horse, and a dreamcatcher.
I swallow. Why would he put a dreamcatcher on there?
But it is beautiful. He made this himself?
Then I notice something else, and I chuckle.
“The notches go all the way to the buckle,” I point out. “I’m flattered, but my waist isn’t that small.”
Noah leans in, whispering, “But your wrists are.”
My heart skips, and I dart my eyes up to Kaleb as he stares down at me.
What?
But Noah just laughs, both of them leaving me there as they head outside.
And I don’t realize I’m staring back down at the belt, spacing off until Jake honks again, making me jump.
“Give it to me!” I shout as Noah holds my phone out of my reach. “Come on.”
He plants his hand on my forehead and pushes me back as we sit at the table and he inspects the photo. “Holy shit,” he says loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “Why do you hide this?”
I launch up and snatch the phone out of his hand, plopping back down in my seat. “Because it’s a dumb picture.”
“Then why do you keep it on your phone?”
“Because,” I tell him. “It’s the only thing I’ve done that I’m proud of.”
I go to exit out of the link to the one article about me ever written, along with the photo shoot the magazine insisted be done to accompany it, but Jake plucks my cell out of my hands instead, taking his turn to look at the pic.