Page 26 of Untruly With You

As the echoesof Hank and Sutton reach us, the tension in the dining room is palpable, crawling over my skin and scratching at it like rough wool. The sound of the door closing behind Hank might as well be a thunderclap in a library. Immediately, Wells follows his dad’s trail, shooting a scowl at Sutton when he passes. Magnolia jumps up from her seat, her stance as stiff and straight as a flagpole. Frankie reacts in the opposite manner, sinking down in her chair and pinching the bridge of her nose. I, meanwhile, try to keep myMona Lisasmile in place. Though, I feel more like a Picasso right about now.

Magnolia clears her throat, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She sends me an unconvincing smile. “Laine, darling, I’m sorry. Hank has been…going through a lot. I should go check on him,” she mutters, all but sprinting out of the room with enough nervous energy to power all of West River. “He’ll clean this mess up, don’t worry about it.” By her tone, I know she means only the literal mess, not the metaphorical one.

Frankie stands next. “I’m going to…” she says, her voice trailing.

“Yeah, I should head to bed too,” I reply.

Frankie coughs out a dry laugh and pushes her wild mane of blonde curls behind her shoulders. “Oh, I’m not going to bed. I’m going to go kick Wells’ ass.”

I grin. “Can I watch?”

“Trust me,” Frankie says over her shoulder as she walks out, “it won’t be pretty.”

Sutton returns to the dining room soon after, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him. His hair stands at wild angles, presumably from raking his hands through his curls in frustration. The classic button-down he’s wearing is coming untucked. His eyes are so narrowed I can hardly see any of their whites.

“Your dad is such a sweetie,” I joke, trying to crack Sutton’s tension. “A real softy.”

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his dimples, and collapses into the chair next to me. “Oh yeah, we’re like two peas in a pod.”

I’m shocked that I have to hold myself back from the impulse to reach for Sutton’s hand. That movement came so naturally, but it’s not as if his family is here to see it now.

“Do you think we're doing a convincing job?” I whisper, eager to get Sutton’s mind off his father. I lean close enough to him I can smell his cologne, ginger and a hint of musky floral. Maybe he intentionally strays from woody colognes or anything reminiscent of the ranch. “I think we need to up the ante,” I continue. “We’re hardly acting any different from our usual.”

Sutton’s lips quirk up in a half-smile. “Or maybe my family is actually vacating the premises one by one simply because they can't handle our dazzling chemistry.”

“That could be it.”

“Yes. Not the fact that my father told me I was never welcome back.”

“And certainly not because there’s anything awkward about your brother and your ex getting married.”

“At least she and I didn’t date long,” Sutton quips, dry humor coloring his voice.

“Yeah, five years is nothing.” We’re quiet for a moment, and my eyes drop to the rhubarb stain across the tablecloth and floor. “I didn’t really want pie, anyway.”

Sutton lets out a half-bitter laugh. Then his smile fades, and I can see his thoughts spinning behind those vacant eyes.

“Hey,” I nudge his knee with mine, “let’s go hide out from everyone.”

He nods, and I pull him to stand, wrapping an arm around his torso as we shuffle back upstairs.

“I’m sorry you wasted that dress on a night like this,” Sutton says once we’re back in the guest room. He eyes me up and down, and my cheeks warm. He’s never looked at me like this before—so unabashedly. I tell myself his eyes are lingering because he’s just too exhausted physically move them any quicker.

“I’m sorry about my family. The good news is my dad will be gone for the next two days. He apparently has some business out of town. Meaning, we only have one jerk to worry about for a bit.”

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of difficult personalities. I think I can handle it.”

Sutton gives me a sidelong glance. I can see that he’s trying to act playful, even when he feels anything but that. “Is that your subtle way of saying I'm a difficult personality?”

“Oh, Sutton Davis, you're not difficult. You're…an acquired taste. Once you let someone in, you’re wonderful.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “An acquired taste, huh?”

I nod, leaning against the dresser. “Definitely. But you grow on people, like…a good mold.”

Sutton lays his hand over his heart mockingly. “Comparing me to mold? Laine, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

“Oh, don't sell yourself short. You're the finest mold I've ever encountered. Like a nice gorgonzola.”

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