Page 95 of No More Secrets
“And you look like you got a nice, quiet night’s sleep. Alone,” Carter smirked.
“Dick.”
“Asshole.”
“Boys,” Summer warned. She gave up on her hair and pulled on her Yankees cap.
“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in unison.
“I can’t begin to imagine the hell that you three put your poor mother through over the years.”
“Phoebe Pierce isn’t the innocent little angel you think she is. She tortured us in ways only a mother can,” Jax said through a mouthful of cereal.
“Piano lessons,” Carter supplied.
“Carpool sing-alongs on the way to school,” Jax added.
“That time she got pissed at us and hid the TV remotes for a week.”
“The Great Vegan Experiment of 1995.”
“Trust us,” Carter said, riffing the bill of her cap. “We learned torture from the best.”
Jax dumped his empty bowl in the sink. “Give me five minutes to change and I’ll be ready to go.”
He hustled upstairs, and Summer and Carter ate a quick breakfast. Jax came back down wearing his Pierce Acres t-shirt.
“Aren’t you two cute in your matching shirts?” Summer cooed.
“It’s our farmers market uniform,” Carter grinned. “And technically, you’re to blame for it.”
“Yeah, you know, I think Summer could use a little branding,” Jax said, scratching his chin.
“Like the hot iron, flesh-searing branding?” Summer gulped.
“Well, we could go in that direction, or you could just wear this,” Carter said, tossing her a green t-shirt.
“You got me a shirt!”
“Welcome to the family,” Carter said, kissing the top of her head. “Go change.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The entire town square with its wide brick sidewalks and leafy shade trees had been transformed into an open-air market. It wasn’t quite eight yet, and already it was bustling. Vendors, including the Pierce brothers, erected pop-up canopies over folding tables that were soon covered in a variety of wares.
Summer helped unload and then stepped in to take over the setup when she realized they intended to just dump produce in sloppy piles.
“Trust me on this,” she said, wielding a summer squash at Carter. “Presentation is important.”
She organized the cucumbers, squash, and ears of corn into a cascading rainbow of color on the table before moving on to neatly stack beefsteak tomatoes in an upended crate on the ground. The green beans she lay in precise horizontal rows, edging the length of the table.
“Some galvanized tubs and crates would be better,” she muttered to herself. “And little handwritten chalkboard signs for the names and prices.”
“Huh,” Carter grunted.
She turned from her work. Carter and Jax were standing, arms crossed, studying her display.
“That looks a lot better than what we usually do,” Jax said.
