Chapter 8 Violet
VIOLET
It’s not too much later when I step outside the house with all three of the brothers.
I lock the door, feeling so awkward. Of course they managed to have an argument about Lennox and I hooking up because it feels like they can argue about anything these days.
Part of me wonders if I should have said something to Lennox, but an even bigger part of me is still embarrassed that his brothers know about what happened between us.
I can practically feel the tension between the three of them rolling off them in waves, and it almost feels like it’s even sharper and more intense than it was last night.
None of them will look at each other, and it’s like they have walls up, to keep the others out.
As much as I don’t want to be, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that Lennox didn’t contradict me when I said our hookup didn’t mean anything. I brushed it off to keep Sawyer and Rhett from harping on about it, but I kind of hoped that I was wrong and it did mean something.
Honestly, I probably should never have brought it up in the first place.
But Lennox referencing it after not bringing it up for years took me by surprise.
I really did think he’d forgotten it even happened.
I sort of convinced myself that either he was black out drunk and didn’t remember it in the morning, or I’d just dreamed the whole thing out of some weird longing.
And considering how uncomfortable things are right now, maybe one of those options would have been for the best.
Get it together, I scold myself, giving myself a mental slap. It’s in the past and you have to move on.
Especially right now when I have three men waiting on me to get the day’s errands started.
I walk down the driveway to my car, and then turn back, surprised that all three of the men are walking along with me.
“Oh,” I say, blinking. “You’re coming with me.”
Sawyer smirks, hands tucked into his pockets. “What do you think we’d do if we were all really dating you?”
Right. I nod. “We’d ride together.”
“Exactly.”
It feels so, so strange to have them piling into my car.
For one thing, they make it seem even more cramped than it already is.
It’s the perfect size for me, my little blue sedan, but Sawyer makes a show of shoving the passenger seat back to make room for his long legs, leaving Rhett complaining from his spot in the backseat.
Lennox doesn’t say anything, just looks out the window as I start the car and back us down the driveway.
My neighborhood is quiet at this time of day, everyone already occupied with the things they need to do, and I drive us out of the subdivision and into the main part of town.
Luckily, most of the places I need to go to are close enough together that we can park the car and just walk, so I do that, sliding into a space and killing the engine.
“This is going to be a little boring,” I say, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Sorry.”
Rhett shrugs. “I don’t think anyone’s errands are a party.”
“Fair enough.”
The first stop is the little spice shop where I buy some of the more specialized ingredients for my bakery. The bigger things like sugar and flour and yeast I get delivered in large quantities, but things like herbs and spices I like to try to source as locally as I can.
Jasmine, the daughter of the woman who runs the shop, smiles at me as I come in and then her eyes widen when she sees the men.
“Violet, are they with you?” she asks, her voice hushed.
“Oh. Uh, yeah, these are my…” I trail off, wincing a little. If I can’t even say it out loud, how am I ever going to sell this?
Sawyer swoops in, smile in place. “We’re her boyfriends,” he says. “She’s still shy about it, but that’s one of the cutest things about her.”
Jasmine’s eyes are the size of dinner plates already, and I just know that a good amount of that small town gossip we were talking about earlier is going to come from her.
I clear my throat before things can get more awkward for me. “Um, I asked your mom about some orange blossom water?”
“Oh, right,” she says. “She set aside some things for you, come and look.”
Ten minutes later, I leave with the things I came for—along with a few others—and we stop back at the car to drop them off.
It goes like that in the next shop and the one after that too. Unlike Jasmine and her mother, the owners of the next two stops have been in Sweetwater Lake for long enough to know all about the Sullivan brothers.
I can practically feel the rumor mill starting to churn as I make my purchases and Rhett scoops up the bags before I can.
“You know you’re working on your day off, right?” he says, raising an eyebrow at me.
I smile a little sheepishly. “I know. But when you’re the single owner of a small business that’s barely making even on a good day, there aren’t really days off. Come on, we’re going in here.”
We spend another half hour or so picking out cheeses for Danishes and little pastries for holiday appetizers, and I grab some nuts and fruits as well.
I have some ideas for new treats I want to add to the menu for the holidays, and I’m already itching to experiment by the time I’m done picking things out.
“What do you think about stopping for lunch?” Sawyer suggests, closing the trunk of my car with a decisive bang. “I’m starving.”
I check the time, surprised that it’s already after noon. “We can do that. I have been dragging you all over the town today.”
“Is Porter’s still a thing?” Rhett asks.
“Of course. You know Mr. Porter is going to die before he lets his diner go out of business.”
Porter’s is one of those places in our small town that’s been there since everyone was a kid.
Mr. Porter runs it, and his father ran it before him.
He always says the business will die with him, since both of his sons moved away after college, and one of them became a doctor and the other an accountant, but most of the people in Sweetwater Lake think his daughter Rosalie will take over before that happens. There are actual bets about it.
That’s small town life for you.
Something like a smile flickers over Lennox’s face. “That used to be our favorite spot growing up,” he says. “We’d go there after school—”
“—and get chili dogs and French fries and a milkshake,” Sawyer finishes.
“We shared the milkshake because then it was healthier.”
Lennox snorts. “I ate so much one time that I threw up on the way home behind Mrs. Campbell’s bushes. She never did find out that was me.”
The two of them laugh, sharing that memory, and for just a second it’s almost like how things used to be between them. But the moment doesn’t last, and it’s easy to tell the moment they remember they don’t like each other, smiles dropping away.
They turn away from each other, and I stifle a sigh.
“Let’s go get some lunch,” I say, leading the way down the street.
Porter’s sits at the end of the square, and it’s always busy. With the weather being crisp and cold, and people dipping in and out of the shops on High Street, doing their holiday shopping, Porter’s is the place everyone comes to get warm and get fed.
They do a rousing trade of hot cocoa, tea, and coffee, as well as a steady stream of burgers, sandwiches, and fries.
We join the line at the counter, and the guys look up at the menu.
“Is it the same as you remember?” I ask them.
“Just about. I don’t remember there being salads the last time I was here,” Sawyer says.
I snort. “There definitely were salads, I think you just ignored that part.”
“You sound like you know what you’re going to get,” someone says, and I glance up to see the guy in front of us in line smiling at me. I don’t recognize him, which means he’s either new to town or just passing through on his way to somewhere else.
“I come here a lot,” I reply, flashing him a polite smile. “And I basically get the same thing every time.”
“Maybe you could help me then.” He steps a bit closer, leaning down into my personal space just a little. “You know, tell me what’s good.”
“Oh, it’s all good. Porter’s is famous for having the best of everything.”
“Is that so?” He smiles. “I guess you’d be the expert.”
Before I can reply, Sawyer steps up next to me. He puts an arm around my shoulder, pulling me against the warmth of his side. I’m suddenly surrounded by the smoky scent of him, and I swallow back my surprise.
“You’re a grown man,” he says. “I think you can decide what to eat for yourself.” He jerks his head, a clear order for this guy to get lost.
And the guy does, holding up his hands and turning around, putting more space between us.
“What was that?” I hiss lightly. “He wasn’t doing anything.”
Sawyer gives me a flat look. “Violet, he was hitting on you. And not even subtly.”
“I think you’re reading too much into it. He was just making conversation.”
“You’re not reading enough into it,” he says. “And anyone who thinks they can just hit on you like that is going to have to go through me. I might not have been in the army like Lennox or worked as a bodyguard like Rhett, but I can still throw a punch.”
My eyes go wide at the way he says that. It’s so possessive, so protective, and utterly surprising. Of course, it’s just for the lie we’re trying to sell, but there’s a seriousness in his tone that makes my stomach flutter in response.
Luckily, it’s our turn to order next, and I can take a breath as I smile at the cashier and order my burger and salad.
We get our food, and we’re lucky that a family of four has just vacated their table when we’re ready to sit down. Someone wipes it down for us, and we sit with our food.
My stomach growls from the smells, and I bite into my burger, humming with pleasure.
The guys don’t really talk much as they start to eat, but for once it’s not really awkward. They seem more focused on eating than antagonizing each other, and I’ll take that right now.