Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

Before I’m even done talking, they’re getting up, gathering their things, and shoving me toward the door. I manage to squirm my way over to Unc first.

“Thank you so much for tonight. I think I needed this, needed them.” It’s the truth, and though hard to admit, I hope he can see that needing others isn’t such a bad thing. It’s not a weakness, it’s simply human nature. I kiss him on his sandpapery, scratchy cheek, and he smiles.

“Go have some fun, Willow. I love you, girl.”

“I love you too,” I tell him. But I turn back once more before I leave. “At two, you get out of here. I’ll be in early to do tonight’s cleaning and tomorrow’s prep. Sit down, pull beers, and don’t overdo it.”

“Nah, I got it. Pretty sure I lost that bet anyway, so it’s my duty, fair and square.”

“Nope. The blue T-shirt Coors Light and the green tank top Girly Beer might not have made it out the door, but they made it down the hall to the bathroom,” I admit with a grin. “You won.”

His laughter is deep in his belly and so fierce, it makes his eyes water. “Shit. I don’t know how I missed that. All right then, add a deep clean to the bathrooms to your opening list in the morning.”

“Men’s room. They never go to the women’s for a hookup.”

It had started out so well. Simple and sweet, even.

We’d pulled up to my little house en masse, my little Subaru and a few trucks. Katelyn, the wedding pro, did everyone’s makeup and hair while we played around with various poses and setups.

I took individual photos of each woman, both planned images and candids of us talking, laughing, and having fun.

Rix sitting on the kitchen table, one boot on the chair and one folded up. She looked stunningly bad ass, glaring into the camera as she complained that she didn’t know how to do this. When she saw herself, she’d laughed and I’d captured that expression too. The dichotomy of her hard and soft edges is beautiful.

Sophie had been the opposite, an easy model full of poses and expressions. “I used to pose for paparazzi in my city life Before James, and even now, when we go to the World Finals, the press will follow him. I’ve gotta be able to pull out my A-game when needed.” Her shots had been gorgeous, her dark hair curled and her eyes sultry.

Allyson had been more comfortable with over the shoulder looks rather than facing boldly head-on into the camera, and the pose had highlighted the sculptural qualities of her shoulder blades in her strappy tank top and the shape of her eyes as she stared into the camera at an angle.

Shayanne had plopped herself on the couch, ultimately upside down with her crossed feet in the air and a wide, open-mouthed laugh that showed her youthful exuberance.

Katelyn had surprised me the most. She seems sweet, maybe a little softer like me, but when she’d found her comfort zone, she’d gone right into it. Her smile had been seductive and foretold of secret depths to her, giving layers to the photos beyond her beauty.

I’d even let them take a few of me, a true rarity. Photographers rarely flip around to the other side of the camera, I find. Or I don’t, at least not in a way that exposes the real me. Bits and pieces can convey one thing, but with a frame full of my entire being, there’s nowhere to hide.

And that’s when things went crazy.

Or crazier.

To be fair, that might’ve been helped along by the box of wine in the fridge, along with my entire stash of bark-thin chocolate.

Somehow, my idea of a fun photoshoot to capture tonight in print has turned into something much . . . sexier.

“It’s fine. Not like we haven’t seen each other in swimsuits at the pond,” Shayanne argues. Oddly enough, she’s making sense, and I can see everyone else considering her idea of boudoir shots for the guys. “I’ll go first.”

“Of course you will,” Rix says sarcastically.

“No nakedness, right? I mean, I haven’t seen you all in swimsuits, and I’m not really looking for my neighbors to start telling folks I’m doing porn shoots over here. I’ll lose my rental.” I laugh, but I’m dead serious.

“Definitely not,” Shay agrees, nodding vigorously. “Y’all don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’ve got a famous photographer here willing to take expert photos of me and a half-decent buzz going on that makes this seem like a good idea. I’m taking advantage. YOLO!”

With that battle cry ringing in all of our ears, she kicks off her boots and shoves down her jeans to reveal pink cotton panties with horses on them. She promptly swallows another guzzle of wine too, so I think she’s not as brave as she’d have us believe. Several of the women follow suit, me included—with the wine, not the stripping.