Page 23 of Sweet and Wild

“If you think anyone on God’s green earth is gonna believe that the two of you could be alone in a cabin for an entire night and not screw one another, you’re not as smart as I thought you were, Lemon Winchester.”

“Believe what you want, but Colt and I know the truth.”

“Which is that you boned all night long.”

Rolling my eyes, I open my door before he’s even pulled the truck to a complete stop. I climb out, stomp up the path, and take the front porch stairs two at a time.

I yank the screen door back on its hinges and come face-to-face with Mama.

“Mama! Jesus, you scared me.”

“You watch your language in my house, Lemonade.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” I mutter, trying to inch past.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Upstairs to shower?” My response comes out like a question because it’s always better to play it safe where pissing off Mama is concerned.

Her scrutinous gaze rolls over me from my boots all the way up to my messy bed hair, and I smooth my hand over what I’m sure is an unruly nest fit for chickens to roost.

“You’re still wearing your funeral clothes.”

Cash walks through the front door and greets my mama, but it’s the deep gravelly voice that follows his which has my skin breaking out in gooseflesh. “Mornin’, ma’am. Lemon.”

I turn and glare at him just in time to see him tip his hat. He moves on past us and Mama’s bright blue gaze narrows on me. “You had better start talkin’, girl. I mean, I know you’re going through a lot with your breakup with Stavros, but … Cash?”

“Cash?” I screw up my nose in distaste. Not that Cash isn’t gorgeous to look at, but that whole cocky cowboy thing was never something I could fall for. “Mama, I didn’t spend the night with Cash.”

“Oh, thank heavens.” She sighs in relief. “Wait, that means you spent the night with Colt?”

“It wasn’t even like that.”

A slow smile spreads across her face and her eyes twinkle like string lights at Christmas. “Well, this is a new development.”

“What’s a new development?” West asks, coming in from outside.

“Nothing.” I make a beeline for the stairs, but Mama grabs my elbow and spins me around to face the kitchen.

“Breakfast in this house is six a.m. sharp. If you’re not at my table, you don’t eat.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll shower and head to the Buttermilk for a bite to eat. They’re still doin’ pie happy hour twice a day, right?”

“You will do no such thing. I will not have any child of mine eating breakfast at the diner and the whole town talkin’ about how I don’t fill their bellies before I send them off into the world.”

I let out a deep breath and stomp toward the kitchen before sitting down heavily in the seat next to Colt.

“Mornin’, Lemon.” Wyatt grins at me.

Which of course forces Wade to look up from the biscuits he’s scoffing down his throat and frown at my clothing. “Looking a little dressed up for breakfast aren’t we, Lemonade?”

“I think I’ve seen this ensemble before,” Wyatt says as he leans his elbow on the table and dissects my wrinkled dress and disheveled hair, “but I just can’t for the life of me figure out where.”

I roll my eyes and place a biscuit on my plate. I don’t do much more than just pick at it while everyone continues to pick at me.

“I could really go for some whiskey in this here coffee,” West says with the hint of a smile. “Know where I can find any, Lemonade?”

I stand and throw my napkin on the plate. “Y’all about done? Yes, if you must know, I drank too much and spent the night at Colt’s. And no, nothing happened. He’s a gentleman, unlike most of you.”

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