Chapter 18
18
Preston
N atalie was right. About pretty much everything.
Watching my four big, tough brothers—and five even bigger, even tougher Wilder brothers—get their nails painted has been an unexpected treat.
Brawny, bearded Gabe Wilder’s nails are ten different shades of pink, including four with glitter.
I didn’t even know there were that many shades of pink.
Horseback riding, lasso lessons, the rage room—they’re all huge hits.
And apparently people love submerging themselves in an enormous kiddie pool of Jell-O with other people and rolling around. Go figure. There’s no accounting for taste.
I look around for Natalie. She’s astride a horse, walking it around the perimeter of Hanna’s enormous back yard, under the instruction of a tall, broad-shouldered twentysomething in a cowboy hat. Her tits bounce with the horse’s motion—a glorious sight to behold—but that’s not the thing that makes it impossible to look away. It’s the expression on her face. She’s beaming, delighted.
I’m not the only person who’s noticed. The cowboy at her side can’t take his eyes off her, either. And I’m pretty sure it’s not her smile that has his attention.
My hands clench into fists.
“She’s pretty good at her job, huh?” Shane asks. I turn to find him at my side, also watching Natalie. It’s hard not to because joy radiates off her, like sunlight. There’s an intense magnetism to how much she’s enjoying herself. Or maybe that’s just me.
I want to be closer to her.
“It’s lucky that you’re not trying to fulfill the terms of Granddad’s will on your own,” another dry voice says. “You’d be totally screwed.”
“Look who’s talking, Quinn,” I growl. “Best receptionist Hott Spot’s ever had.”
Both my brothers are wearing swim trunks and T-shirts and are soaking wet from the garden hose. Even so, they have leftover bits of purple Jell-O still clinging to their clothes, hair, and bodies.
“She’s easy on the eyes, too,” Shane muses aloud, looking from me to Natalie.
“Don’t be a dick, Shane,” I growl.
Quinn shrugs one shoulder. “Don’t let him goad you.”
“Who’s goading anyone?” I say, trying for an equally careless shrug and failing miserably. “I’m not interested in her.”
Quinn winces. “You don’t want to go there, dude. It’s like catnip to him.” He tilts his head at our brother.
When Quinn told Shane he wasn’t interested in Sonya, Shane went to town messing with Quinn’s head. Of course, now Shane’s planning his own wedding, and he’s so gone for Ivy that I can’t imagine him playing those kinds of games.
“It’s not like that,” I say. “Natalie’s not my type. We couldn’t be more different.”
Both my brothers eye me suspiciously.
I throw my hands up. “What?”
“We’re not saying you’re interested,” Quinn says carefully. “It’s just that, well, Grandfather’s plans have a way of working out.”
“Quinn and Sonya couldn’t be more different, either,” Shane says. “On paper. And look at Ivy and me. Small-town girl; bright-lights, big-city guy. Fame avoider, fame seeker.”
“Yeah, well, not gonna happen this time.”
I make myself look away from the sight of Natalie’s deliciously thick thighs locked around the horse’s flanks.
I am not fucking jealous of a horse.
Except I’m looking back. Again. Imagining those thighs?—
She’s done with her lesson. She dismounts, gives the cowboy a hug…
“Not interested, huh?” Shane says, looking down at my hands, clenched so tight my knuckles are white.
I close my eyes.
“So…” he says quietly, suddenly serious—and I should scent trouble because Shane’s rarely serious. “Were you ever going to tell us about your divorce?”
“No,” I admit. Then, “How’d you find out?”
He shrugs. “Hanna has a client from New York. I guess it’s not as well-kept a secret as you thought.”
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret,” I say.
“Only from us?” Shane asks. He doesn’t sound as hurt or angry as he probably deserves to be. “Did you think we’d give you shit about it?”
The truth is I didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not with people who know the history. I still don’t. But they’re both waiting for an answer.
A hand touches my arm. “Hey,” Natalie says. And I can’t help any of the things that happen next—not the unclenching of my fists or the unclenching of the tightness in my chest. I’m really fucking glad to see her, so much that it surprises me.
She looks from my brothers to me and back again, and for a moment I’m terrified that she’s going to apologize for interrupting and leave us alone again, so I’ll have to answer Shane’s question. But she doesn’t. She turns to the two of them, holds out her hand, and says, “Hi! I’m Natalie. I don’t think we’ve met.”
My brothers introduce themselves, and Natalie asks them what their favorite activities have been so far.
“Definitely the Jell-O pit,” Shane says.
Natalie raises both her eyebrows at me.
“Just because my brother’s a caveman…” I say.
“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it,” Natalie teases.
“You haven’t tried the Jell-O pit?” Shane says. “Have you ever done Jell-O wrestling?”
“Nope,” I say.
“Now’s your chance!” Natalie says buoyantly. “Shane, you and Preston should wrestle.”
“No way,” I say.
“Oh, come on,” Quinn says. “Even I did it. It’s pretty fun.”
All three of them face me, arms crossed.
“I mean,” Natalie says, “if you’re going to bring an activity to your sister’s resort , you should probably vet it first, right? Make sure it’s safe?”
I glare at her, but it’s clear I’ve lost this one. Besides, she did save me from the third degree by my brothers. So maybe I owe her this win.
Also?
Pretty sure I can take Shane.
“Okay,” I concede and turn to face my brother. “You’re on.”