Before Him

“And she suggested you take it off there and then,” I say, half-joking. The way he shrugs off my words makes my eyes bug. “She did?” He doesn’t answer. “Well, did she?” Whoa there, shrill pony girl!

“I didn’t, obviously.” His smile is equal parts attractive and annoying. It’s the kind of smile that makes me unsure if it needs kissing off or scrubbing.

“This is a kid’s party, not Magic Mike.”

“Well, Magic Roman managed to resist the wet T-shirt portion of the day. What do I get for my prize?”

“What in the Alabama is going on today?” I say, ignoring his assertion. I run my fingers over my lips. Wilder’s parties are usually a much more sedate affair.

“Are you doing that on purpose?”

“Huh?” I look up and find him staring down, suddenly unhappy.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head.

“Did you spike the punch?”

“Didn’t Annie already ask me that?” He rolls his eyes, and at the mention of Annie, I feel myself frown. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help how I feel. “Anyway, you haven’t got any punch.” He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. I said we were done with the physical, but this must count as comfort. “It’s just the heat.” I shiver as his finger slides down my neck before pulling away a lock of damp hair.

“And the beer they’re drinking.”

“I went to the bottle shop, I mean, the liquor store, so you can blame me.”

I do blame him. I blame him for a lot of things as he slides a comforting circle across my back. But there’s no denying whatever he is doing back here has a calming effect on me.

“Why does everyone like you?” Oh, God. How low can a girl get? How pathetic.

“What do you mean?” His lips wrap in the shape of a smile, the kind that speaks of bemusement.

“Annie,” I almost say, changing my minds at the last minute for an equally valid, “How did you get Miss Ursula and Miss Betty to like you?”

“You get they like me because they think I’ll be good for you.” His expression flickers as though pained. “And because I’m Wilder’s dad.”

Even if a few weeks ago Betty would’ve married me off to Jenner?

“I’ve known them all my life, and I’ve never been invited to call them by their first names. In fact, I was sharply corrected the one time I tried it.” Like a ruler to the back of the knuckles.

“You’re a mental case,” he says, his expression lightening as he pulls me in for a tight hug.

“I’m beginning to feel like it.” I press my hand to his chest and glance up at him. Shadow dapples his face, though the blue of his eyes burns clear. He presses a kiss to my head and pulls me tighter to him. I feel rather than hear the vibration of his words.

“It was the crows,” he half whispers.

“What?” I pull away, confused. Annoyed still?

“I helped them with their crow problem. Well, I helped Betty mostly, though you should probably thank me for stopping her from repainting the walls of the pixie house.”

“I’m starting to think, if not the punch, you’ve spiked something.”

“Betty has this massive gun, right? A paint gun,” he amends when my mouth drops open. The woman once had a shotgun, but that’s another story. “She was shooting at crows this day, and I kind of got myself involved.”

“You involved yourself in paintballing crows?”

“I’m not that crazy. Look, come and sit down. It’s a bit of a long story.” Taking me by the hand, he leads me to a log felled from a tree trunk long ago, brushing fallen leaves and dirt from the top as I press my dress straight under my butt and lower myself down. “So crows are really clever, right?”

“If you say so.”

“I do because they are. Did you know they’re monogamous, usually for life? Anyway,” he hurries on, pulling my hand between both of his. “They’re smart. They can solve puzzles and recognise faces. They’re mischievous, but they can also be a bit vindictive.”

“Betty upset the crows?” I ask, my tone full of disbelief.

“Just one of them.” His lips play at smiling but don’t quite give in. “Though I expect he was planning on getting the boys around when it was time to murder her? That was a crow joke. You don’t have to laugh,” he adds, laughing himself.

“So she’s being bullied?”

“More like disturbed. She pissed off a crow trying to shoot it or something, chase it from the yard, so it decided to take its revenge by waking her up at five every morning. Like clockwork, apparently.”

“You know I’m going to confirm this with her, don’t you?” He makes a gesture, kind of, have at it. So maybe he’s being serious.

“She likes her sleep, does old Betty. And well, you were, at the time, being a bit of a hard arse about me being around, so I thought I would make friends with the pair of them.”