Calmly, Carefully, Completely (The Reed Brothers 3)

The girls were here for camp last month, and I didn’t feel this giddy because of them being here, so I don’t think it’s the camp that made me want to rush outside today. It’s Pete. And I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to like him as much as I do.

In a perfect world, I could date him. But my world’s not perfect. And it hasn’t been for quite some time.

I get dressed and pull my hair into a ponytail. We’re going to be working with the horses today before it gets too hot. The boys love to take short rides around the paddock. Some of these kids have never been on a horse before.

I walk outside, and I can smell the aroma of bacon on the griddle. My dad tried hiring a catering service, but he really likes cooking for the kids, and it seems to work better when he throws some bacon on a skillet, scrambles eggs, and offers fruit, yogurt, milk, and cereal to everyone. There’s something for every kid, even with some of the boys’ bizarre dietary restrictions.

The men from the prison are acting as waiters right now, and they’re doing a good job at it. Pete’s working in the middle of two tables. He’s signing to some kids and joking with others. He’s really good with the adolescents. Gonzo says something to him, and I see Pete hold up his hand to block everyone else from seeing it as he shoots Gonzo the middle finger. Gonzo laughs, and I force myself to close my jaw.

Pete looks over and catches my eye. My heart trips a beat. “Morning, princess,” he says quietly, his voice lazy and uncomplicated. But that’s a lie. Everything about this man is complex. There’s nothing that’s not complicated about this man.

“Morning,” I say back. I squeeze Gonzo’s shoulder as I walk by him, and he beams at me. “Sleep well, Gonzo?” I ask.

He grins and signs something to Pete. “What did he say?” I ask Pete.

“You don’t want to know,” Pete says with a grimace. He glares at Gonzo. “Watch your manners, Karl,” he warns. His voice is stern, and Gonzo hangs his head. That’s the first time I’ve heard Pete call him by his real name. Pete stands up and goes to get a fork for one of the other boys. He’s still glaring at Gonzo, and now I’m dying to know what he said to earn such disfavor from Pete.

“What did I miss?” I ask, looking back and forth between them.

“Some adolescent humor,” Pete grumbles, looking at Gonzo from beneath lowered lashes. Pete reaches for a salt shaker for another of the boys. “Which wasn’t amusing.”

Gonzo signs something quickly to Pete. “I know that was meant for me,” Pete says quietly, staring into Gonzo’s eyes. “But she’s sitting right here, and it’s rude to talk in front of her unless I can tell her what you said.” He grumbles something and then says, “And I wouldn’t repeat what you just said for a million dollars.” He holds up his hands as though he’s saying what the f**k. “You don’t talk like that in front of girls, dude.” He jabs a fork at Gonzo. “When we’re alone, you can talk all the shit you want. And it might even be funny.”

Gonzo taps me on the shoulder so I look at him. He signs something with his fist close to his chest. The color on his cheeks is high.

“He said sorry,” Pete grumbles. Gonzo signs something else and then blinks his eyes at me, batting his thick lashes. “He wants to know if you forgive him.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say. I still don’t know what he said, so I don’t know why I should be offended. But Pete’s so serious that I feel like I need to play along.

“Gonzo, go ahead and get suctioned or whatever it is you do so we can be ready for the first activity,” Pete says.

Gonzo grins and signs something. But he leaves. Pete shakes his head. More boy humor?

One of the caregivers rounds up the rest of the boys at the two tables Pete was in charge of so they can get the kids ready for the morning. Pete sits down and heaves a sigh. “That kid reminds me of my brothers,” he says, but a grin tugs on the corners of his lips.

“You that tough on your brothers?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I’m the youngest. So, it’s usually me saying something inappropriate and them trying to make me shut up.”

“What did he say?” I ask. I’m dying to know. But something tells me he’s not going to tell me anything.

His gaze is hot, his eyes hooded when they meet mine. “If you must know, it had to do with morning wood.” He raises a brow at me, and I choke on my own spit. He laughs and raises a brow. “Should I continue?”

I hold up a hand to stop him. “I could go a lifetime without knowing any more about that conversation.” I think about it for a minute, though. “Is that something boys talk about?” I ask quietly, just because I’m curious.

He pulls his chin toward his chest and looks down at me. “Don’t go there, princess,” he warns, his voice suddenly husky.

“I was just curious,” I murmur. But I feel the need to explain myself. “My brother’s has autism and barely speaks, so I don’t know how boys behave.” I lay a hand on my chest, slightly abashed at what I’m about to admit. “When girls get together we talk about everything.” I look into his eyes, and they’re suddenly half-lowered and smoldery. My heart thumps. “About men, mostly.” Heat creeps up my cheeks.

His voice is barely a whisper when he says, “Go there, princess.” His eyes twinkle.