told me about those cowboy boots—but go ahead.”
“You’re lucky I like you,” Lachlan teased. “ Truth is, last week I took up reading the dictionary.” Pause. “Backwards.”
Holly choked on giggles and almost dropped her drink. Evan rubbed her back until she stopped coughing. “Christ, Lachlan—don’t do that!” she said when she could breathe again.
“Teach you to insult my boots, lady. Now, to get back to what I was sayin’ before—”
“You mean about how I should keep my mouth politely shut when the discussion turns to politics?”
He laughed aloud, genuinely amused. “Holly, you couldn’t possibly keep your mouth shut, and I wouldn’t want you to. I love it that you’re passionate about what you believe in—because one of the things you believe in is me .”
Her mouth twisted and her forehead scrunched up and she told him, “I wish you’d warn me before you say things like that. It makes me want to do things to you that would be illegal in several states if we weren’t married.”
“Now, that sounds promising!” A tall, lanky, redheaded man Evan didn’t know sidled up behind Holly and snaked his arms around her waist. Her violent start of surprise ended the instant he said, “Hey, Freckles!”
“Peaches!” she cried, delighted.
“Don’t call me that.” He squeezed tight and let go. As she turned, he went on, “You gonna call me that?”
“Whenever I feel like it, and definitely while I knock you silly for not coming to the wedding!” She smacked him a good one on the shoulder, and he yelped. “Why didn’t you come to the wedding?”
“Because I was in Lithuania?” he offered as he rubbed his abused shoulder.
“Lame,” she scoffed and with a glance at Lachlan went on, “This is my sorry-ass excuse for a favorite first cousin. Evan, meet Peaches.”
“Don’t call me that! And I’m only your favorite first cousin because I’m your only first cousin.” Extending his hand, he added, “Please tell her to stop calling me that or I’ll stuff ballot boxes for your opponent in November. I’m Cam Griffen. Glad to meet you.”
“Same here.” The pair shook hands, and Evan told Holly, “Don’t call him that.”
“That happened fast!” she shot back. “The masculine solidarity thing, I mean. Doesn’t the bonding process usually require a televised sporting event and a six-pack? Maybe a manly belch or two?”
“We smoke the same cigars,” Evan said serenely, with a nod at Cam’s shirt pocket, from which protruded two sleek cylinders of tobacco, each circled by a Cohiba label with its distinctive solid red O. “And we like hugging the same girl.”
“Nice work, Freckles,” Cam remarked. “He’s more than just a pretty face.”
“Be nice to your elders, sonny,” Holly admonished. “We’ve got four years on you.” She considered him with a frown. “Although to judge by your hairline, you’re working on catching up. Who’s running you ragged these days?”
He shrugged. “Just the usual Beltway Follies.”
“Cam is a constitutional lawyer,” Holly explained. “But don’t hold it against him. He’s really kind of likable—in a frenetic, unraveling-even-as-we-speak sort of way.”
“A ringing endorsement,” her cousin shot back. “You forgot to mention that I make the meanest julep north of Atlanta, I’m loved by children and dogs and dirty old ladies, and Republicans crawl into corners and whimper when they hear my name.”
Evan said, “And you have a personal interest in watching Rausche Junior give a concession speech in November.”
Watching them react, he reflected that they really didn’t look much alike. Having seen photographs of both Flynn sisters and their husbands, it was obvious that whereas with Holly the sturdy McClures had dominated, Cam’s finer bones were directly traceable to his mother. Bella had the same light build. Neither cousin had inherited the aggressive jawline of the McNichol kin. What they shared was
“You’re lucky I like you,” Lachlan teased. “ Truth is, last week I took up reading the dictionary.” Pause. “Backwards.”
Holly choked on giggles and almost dropped her drink. Evan rubbed her back until she stopped coughing. “Christ, Lachlan—don’t do that!” she said when she could breathe again.
“Teach you to insult my boots, lady. Now, to get back to what I was sayin’ before—”
“You mean about how I should keep my mouth politely shut when the discussion turns to politics?”
He laughed aloud, genuinely amused. “Holly, you couldn’t possibly keep your mouth shut, and I wouldn’t want you to. I love it that you’re passionate about what you believe in—because one of the things you believe in is me .”
Her mouth twisted and her forehead scrunched up and she told him, “I wish you’d warn me before you say things like that. It makes me want to do things to you that would be illegal in several states if we weren’t married.”
“Now, that sounds promising!” A tall, lanky, redheaded man Evan didn’t know sidled up behind Holly and snaked his arms around her waist. Her violent start of surprise ended the instant he said, “Hey, Freckles!”
“Peaches!” she cried, delighted.
“Don’t call me that.” He squeezed tight and let go. As she turned, he went on, “You gonna call me that?”
“Whenever I feel like it, and definitely while I knock you silly for not coming to the wedding!” She smacked him a good one on the shoulder, and he yelped. “Why didn’t you come to the wedding?”
“Because I was in Lithuania?” he offered as he rubbed his abused shoulder.
“Lame,” she scoffed and with a glance at Lachlan went on, “This is my sorry-ass excuse for a favorite first cousin. Evan, meet Peaches.”
“Don’t call me that! And I’m only your favorite first cousin because I’m your only first cousin.” Extending his hand, he added, “Please tell her to stop calling me that or I’ll stuff ballot boxes for your opponent in November. I’m Cam Griffen. Glad to meet you.”
“Same here.” The pair shook hands, and Evan told Holly, “Don’t call him that.”
“That happened fast!” she shot back. “The masculine solidarity thing, I mean. Doesn’t the bonding process usually require a televised sporting event and a six-pack? Maybe a manly belch or two?”
“We smoke the same cigars,” Evan said serenely, with a nod at Cam’s shirt pocket, from which protruded two sleek cylinders of tobacco, each circled by a Cohiba label with its distinctive solid red O. “And we like hugging the same girl.”
“Nice work, Freckles,” Cam remarked. “He’s more than just a pretty face.”
“Be nice to your elders, sonny,” Holly admonished. “We’ve got four years on you.” She considered him with a frown. “Although to judge by your hairline, you’re working on catching up. Who’s running you ragged these days?”
He shrugged. “Just the usual Beltway Follies.”
“Cam is a constitutional lawyer,” Holly explained. “But don’t hold it against him. He’s really kind of likable—in a frenetic, unraveling-even-as-we-speak sort of way.”
“A ringing endorsement,” her cousin shot back. “You forgot to mention that I make the meanest julep north of Atlanta, I’m loved by children and dogs and dirty old ladies, and Republicans crawl into corners and whimper when they hear my name.”
Evan said, “And you have a personal interest in watching Rausche Junior give a concession speech in November.”
Watching them react, he reflected that they really didn’t look much alike. Having seen photographs of both Flynn sisters and their husbands, it was obvious that whereas with Holly the sturdy McClures had dominated, Cam’s finer bones were directly traceable to his mother. Bella had the same light build. Neither cousin had inherited the aggressive jawline of the McNichol kin. What they shared was
Similar Books
