Page 57 of Beating Heart
I nodded. “I do. My buddy and I opened it together, and we’ve built a ton of the properties in town over the years.”
“That’s pretty damn cool.”
“Thanks. You’re a lawyer, huh?” I asked. “Twin siblings and one is a doctor, and one is a lawyer. That’s quite the impressive package.”
He barked out a laugh. “Nah. Emmy’s the impressive one, trust me. She was top of her class and always driven. A fucking rock star at her sport. She probably didn’t mention that she’d even approached trying out for the Olympic team at one point.”
“Wow. No, she didn’t mention it. I’m guessing that would have interfered with her dreams of being a doctor?”
“Yeah. She’s just determined, you know? At everything she does. Always has been. I was more of a fuck-up before I found my way. I wasn’t the best student, but I’m damn good in a courtroom.” He held his bottle up, and I clinked mine against his.
“She claims she was a bit of a troublemaker as a kid, but I find that hard to believe.”
“You need to fucking believe that one. She worked hard to keep up with her brothers and cousins, being the only girl. The mailman banned all of us kids from the post office for a few years when we were young because she’d been turning on the sprinklers every time he walked up to our door with the mail. He’d run off to the other side of the yard, and she’d turn those on,” he said over a fit of laughter. “This went on for a whole summer until he figured out someone was messing with the timers. We were all hellions, but she was the clever one when it came to pranking people. So watch your back.”
“Good to know.”
“Are you out here shit talking me, E? Don’t listen to this guy,” Emerson said, as she strolled out to the kitchen wearing a white tank top and a pair of fitted joggers. Her hair was long and damp, and her face was clean of makeup. Fucking stunning. “There was a wanted sign with Easton’s picture on it hanging on several storefronts in Rosewood River when we were maybe ten years old.”
Damn. This was my kind of guy.
“That was Mr. fucking Harley raising hell because he blamed me for his pig going missing. I was framed.”
They were both laughing hysterically now, and I had no idea what they were talking about, but I couldn’t help but laugh along with them.
“Easton,” Emerson said, her voice serious.
“Emerson.”
“You dressed Mr. Pinkleton in my tutu and rhinestone tank top. He’s a farmer. What did you think he would do?” Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to stop her laughter, and they explained that Mr. Pinkleton was Mr. Harley’s pig.
“Bridger and Clark stole the damn pig and dared me to dress it up.” He shrugged, and she explained those were their other brothers. “You know I can’t slack on a dare.”
“Well, our cousins, Axel and Archer, were supposed to be the lookout guys, and they left his gate open,” Emerson said, turning her attention to me as Easton and I dove into our burgers. “His chickens got out, and his pig was his prized possession, so having Mr. Pinkleton show up in that outfit put the old man over the edge. He made these wanted signs with Easton’s photo and hung them on store windows all over town.”
“I was ten years old and not hiding. I lived next door to the asshole. He was being dramatic, and he got my ass grounded for two weeks that summer. I’m the one who gathered all his chickens and put them back where they belonged. And Mr. Pinkleton sure as hell didn’t mind that outfit one bit.”
I barked out a laugh and shook my head.
“You guys sound like you got yourselves into plenty of trouble as kids,” I said, reaching for my beer.
“I’m guessing you were a bit of a hellion, too?” Easton said, with a wicked grin on his face as he looked at me.
“What gives you that impression?”
“I don’t know. You carried my sister out to the water in a wedding gown. You’re clearly not an overthinker. She couldn’t even get her prick of an ex to agree to jump into the water for a photo after their wedding. You went willingly. I’m guessing you know how to have a good time.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly a Boy Scout,” I said, trying to hide my smile.
We spent the next hour sharing stories about both Rosewood River and Magnolia Falls. Emerson wanted to know how I’d met my four best friends, who were more like brothers to me. We’d grown up together and always had one another’s backs. She told her brother about our matching Ride or Die tattoos, and I shared that RoD was the name of my construction company.
I guessed, in a way, I had a big family, too. They weren’t blood, but they were family.
No doubt about it.
After we finished eating, I figured they’d want some time alone, since her brother was flying home late tonight, so I pushed to my feet and helped clean up our trash. “Thanks for dinner. I’m going to head home and get some sleep.”
“Cutler’s spending the night at J.T.’s?” Emerson asked.
