Page 71 of Forever Golden
“All of ‘em range between fifteen and sixteen, but that brood is hell on wheels. Just ask Deputy Sanders,” Aunt Sheryl says with a chuckle. “Poor Boone can’t decide whether to hug ‘em or kill ‘em most days. Lucky for them, he’s got a big heart and the patience of a saint.”
What in the world has West gotten us into?
“We’ll be back in a bit if we can get away,” he promises his aunt, then he offers me his hand when I stand.
He leads us across the wide-open yard to a distant bonfire where, already, the sound of rowdy laughter and loud music fills the air. We get close and I can make out actual voices now. They’re deeper than I expected from a group of fifteen and sixteen-year-olds. You’d never guess they’re so young from hearing them. Or… seeing them.
Seven tall silhouettes circle the fire, two of which I know are Sterling and Dane, but it’s impossible to tell who’s who. One glance toward Scar and I can practically hear the girl’s hormones revving like an engine.
I swear, she’s gonna send me to an early grave.
The raging fire illuminates their features now, and it becomes abundantly clear that good looks aren’t lacking in this family. It’s hard to believe they left anything for the rest of us. On cue, Scar runs her fingers through the length of her dark hair, making sure she looks decent before we get too close.
“What about Shane?” I lean over to whisper.
“Grow up, Blue. Not wanting to look like a dog doesn’t mean I’m trying to get their attention. I’m not interested,” she insists.
Not interested.
Sure.
The moment the group takes notice of us walking up, their lively conversation dies down and everyone’s attention is suddenly on the four of us. Or, more specifically, usgirls.
“Well, if it isn’t the man with the golden arm.”
At those words, West turns to meet the gaze of the only blond out of the bunch. He steps up to West, pushing a mane of shoulder-length curls behind his ears.
“Damn, dude! Last time I saw you, you only came up to my elbow. What the hell have you guys been eating?” West asks with a laugh as he turns to introduce us. “Beau, I’d like you to meet my girl Blue, her sister Scarlett, and a friend of the family, Joss.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” I say, shaking Beau’s hand when he offers it.
“Same,” he says politely. “And did I hear right? Your name’s Blue?”
Smiling, I nod. “Yeah. It’s different, I know.”
“Nothing wrong with different,” he shrugs, holding my gaze. “If you get bored at the big house, I just got a new truck. It’d be no trouble to swing by and pick you up. There’s lots to see in Dupont Bayou.”
I’m not quite sure what to say because he’s friendly, yes, but maybe a bittoofriendly?
West’s gaze lingers on my hand, which is still in Beau’s because he has yet to release it.
“Ok, so this is the part where you either let go or lose a damn finger,” West warns with a smile. When Beau’s gaze shifts from me to his big cousin, it’s clear he was intentionally trying to get under West’s skin by flirting. Which worked like a charm.
Beau laughs and finally releases me, taking a few steps back just in case West’s threat isn’t quite as empty as he thinks.
“My fingers are my life,” he reasons. “I need ‘em for playing bass and, you know…otherthings,” he adds, passing a look over me that makes me feel naked, dirty.
“Fuck you,” West growls, lunging toward Beau with a huge grin. He grabs him in a playful chokehold, and I imagine there’s a lot of broken furniture that results from these eight getting together.
Poor Boone.
Without West as a buffer, two more of his prowling cousins stroll over. Twins this time. Looks-wise, they’re identical, but they’re complete opposites in the style department. One’s sporting dark jeans and a button-down rolled to his elbows. He wears glasses that I’m pretty sure make himlooka whole heck of a lot more innocent than he actually is. Like all the others, he’s tall and broad across his shoulders, much like the triplets. His brother opted for a much more casual look tonight—Adidas track pants and a black hoodie. Both looks are trendy, but they’re as different as night and day.
“You two must be River and Stoney, right?”
They nod. “In the flesh,” the casual one says just before introducing himself. “Stoney.”
“River,” the one in glasses adds.