Page 50 of Spicy Ever After
I line up each pair of bottles behind the open samples to make it easier for Grif while he covers the booth solo.
“Just one second,” he tells the next woman in line, and then he turns to Hattie with a self-conscious grin. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I’m Griffin, Beck’s brother.”
He thrusts out a hand to her, and Hattie studies it for a second before taking it with her own.
“I’m Hattie,” she says, pumping his hand twice before dropping it. Then she turns fully to me. “You’re not identical.”
She says it with such authority, I hate to contradict her. “Except we are.”
Hattie blinks at me. “Identical twins, yes. But you’re not identical.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I mistook him for you. There are so many differences.”
I can’t help it. Neither can Grif. We both chuckle.
“My own husband mixed us up at the checkout line at Walgreens once,” Grif says, wincing at the memory. “Damn embarrassing.”
I snort. “What did you have to be embarrassed about? It was my ass getting grabbed.”
Griffin nods adamantly. “That’s what gave it away.” He sniffs self-consciously, raking a hand through his hair. “Apparently, my butt is more supple than yours.”
Now, this part I haven’t heard, and I may never let my brother live it down. “Supple? You mean soft.”
Grif rolls his eyes, and instead of having a laugh at his expense, Hattie frowns, studying him again. “Is your husband vision impaired? Is that why he could only tell you apart by feel?”
My laughter almost takes me down.
Griffin’s eyes bug. “Kennedy has 20/20 vision, thankyouverymuch,” he says with pretend annoyance. “He mistook Beck for me from behind. He could only see the side of his face in profile.”
But this explanation doesn’t seem to satisfy Hattie. Her frown just deepens. “But your hair and skin tones are noticeably different. If I would’ve known Beck had a twin brother, I never would have made the mistake. Even just seeing you in profile.”
Griffin and I glance at each other, and I’m sure our confused expressions match, well, identically.
Hattie turns to me, her eyes moving over my face. And I have to admit I’m glad she’s focusing on me now, not my brother.
Because I’m jealous. Dang.
“Beck—” The way she says my name makes my chest fill. “You clearly spend more time in the sun. Your hair is lighter, your skin darker, and you have more creases around your eyes from squinting against the brightness.”
“B, your girl just said you have crow’s feet.”
I shoot Grif a glare, but that’s when Hattie takes my chin and angles my face back to hers. And, man, that’s hot.
“But the real difference—” Her gaze softens as she looks at me. She’s so close, kissing her would be easy. Not just easy. Inevitable. “Is the color of your eyes. Yours are amber,” she says it with a hint of reverence, her azalea petal lips blooming into a soft smile.
Griffin clears his throat, making me wonder just how long we’ve been gazing at each other. He’s looking at Hattie with skepticism.
“We both have brown eyes,” he says flatly.
Much to my disappointment, Hattie releases my chin and shakes her head. “You have brown eyes. Beck’s are amber. Variations in eye color come from genetic mutations. The two of you may have started off as the same fertilized egg with the same genetic package, but gene expression can vary along the way.”
Griffin raises a brow at me, all snark. “Takeaway: you’re a mutant with crow’s feet.”
Hattie stiffens, looking at him and then back to me. “Was that rude? Did I say something rude?”
I shake my head, grabbing her hand again and squeezing tight. “Hell, no. Ignore him.” I give my brother the stink eye. “We’re outta here. You got this?”
“You know it.” Then he flashes Hattie a genuine smile. “Go. Enjoy yourselves. Hattie, it was great meeting you.”
Holding Hattie by the hand, I lead us into the crowd, aiming for the Hunt’s Roasters stall. But she drags her feet behind me.
