Page 7 of Beehives and Broken Heroes

Allie stomped up to the porch and stormed through the porch door to the front door. “Forget your scissors.” She opened the screen door to the house and stuck her head inside. “Aunt Sophie, do you have scissors?”

Jo caught up and grabbed Allie’s arm. “We have guests,” she whispered.

Allie looked toward the men, her scowl dropping as recognition set in. Her gaze swept over them; she paused on Andy for a couple of seconds, and then on Brandon. He felt the sweep of her gaze like a chilled breeze passing through his body, making him want to pull his leather jacket on tighter. There was something wrong.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, and his stomach jolted. She was upset.

Brandon only now realized that he, Andy, and Cash had frozen as they’d watched the twins come up the steps. Mr. Winslow was chewing a piece of ice, oblivious to the scene.

Cash stared at Jo with a dopey lovesick look on his face. Jo walked over to Cash and planted a quick kiss on his mouth, then turned to Andy and offered him her hand.

“Hi, welcome,” Jo said. “You must be Brandon’s friend?”

Brandon had let them know he was bringing a friend in the car ride over, and he had been chastised by an eager Mrs. Winslow for asking if he could.You knowallyourmalefriends are welcome.

Andy’s eyes went from Jo to Allie and back again. He took Jo’s hand in both of his. “Your menfolk didn’t tell me you ladies were so beautiful.” He winked at Mr. Winslow. “Though I could’ve guessed after meeting your cousins.”

Cash grabbed Jo’s arm and pulled her back to him. “Easy there, bucko,” he said. “This one’s taken.”

Andy chuckled and turned his gaze to Allie. “Does that mean you’re free?”

Brandon elbowed him in the side.

Allie watched the move, the look of hurt or frustration on her face morphing to annoyed amusement. “Single, yes. Not free,” she said. “I’m swearing off men. No good can come from any of you.” She leveled her gaze at Brandon, like whatever offense had happened to her was his fault. Her tone was teasing, but the look in her eye said she was dead serious.

Andy and Mr. Winslow laughed. Cash said, “Oooooh,” likesomeone’s in trouble, while giving Brandon a not-so-subtle grin.

Brandon narrowed his eyes. Two could play at this game. He retaliated. “Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine today.”

Her scowl returned. “Don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer, storm cloud?” he asked. She’d been here less than a minute and already had him arguing. He swore this woman’s cornbread wasn’t done in the middle.

“I would prefer nothing.” She jutted her slender hip out and placed her hand on it. “No nicknames, especially of the weather variety.”

Mr. Winslow raised his glass in solidarity.

“What did the weather ever do to you?” Brandon asked, suddenly very aware of everyone’s eyes ping-ponging back and forth between the two of them.

“It threatened rain on my sunny day.”

“Better that than a forest fire.”

“But in that case, I supposeonestorm cloud wouldn’t be enough?” she accused.

“No, it probably wouldn’t,” he snapped back.

She gasped, her gaze hardening. “What are you implying?”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure. He’d gotten lost two rebuttals ago. As far as he could tell, they were arguing over nothing. “Don’t get so bent out of shape,” he said.

“I’ll bend however I want to bend!”

Brandon tried not to picture that, but his lip quirked up on the side anyway.

She shot rays at him with her eyes. “You men, you’re . . . you’re all alike, aren’t you!”

For some reason, that comment ran deep. He had no idea to what she was referring, but the utter distaste in her tone didn’t sit well with him.

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