Beauty and the Mustache by Penny Reid Read Free Book Online Page A

breath, just low enough for me not to hear.
    “ What was that?” I
questioned him.
    His blue eyes, same shape
and color as mine, lifted and he gave me a cool glare. “I said
you’ve been gone for eight years. It’s a wonder we know anything
about you.”
    I frowned at him, and was about to question
him further when Jethro cut into the conversation.
    “ I heard
a scream.” He made this statement from the kitchen table. He was
dressed in what appeared to be some kind of park ranger uniform. An
open newspaper—a newspaper?! —was on the table in front
of him along with a half-eaten omelet. “Was that scream from you or
Duane?”
    I sighed. “That was
Duane.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Today is Wednesday. I
thought no one was assigned to Wednesday.”
    “ Unassigned days are wild
card days, first come, first serve deal. He’s been up there since
sunrise.” Roscoe shook his head.
    I rolled my eyes, wished I
hadn’t asked the question. “Anyway, I forgot to knock again. It was
my fault.”
    “ We should get a bell for
your neck.” Billy’s blue eyes regarded me thoughtfully beneath dark
brown eyebrows. He made this suggestion matter-of-factly, like it
was a very reasonable, good idea. To him, it probably
was.
    Of the brothers, Billy was
the most serious and stern. I could count on one hand all the times
I’d heard him laugh while we were growing up. His cool attitude
this morning notwithstanding, I also suspected he was the smartest
in the traditional sense. Facts and figuring came easy to him,
especially anything to do with machines.
    “ Might as well just change
my name to Bessie while you’re at it,” I mumbled.
    “‘… women are still cats
and birds, or at best cows.’”
    This little gem came from
the corner of the kitchen behind me, and was received by the rest
of the room with a tangible stretch of silence. I frowned at the
words—their implied meaning and their origin—and at the voice that
spoke them.
    As I suspected, when I
turned I found Drew leaning against the counter, sipping coffee,
and eying me over the rim of his cup with those silvery
blues.
    He was dressed in a
uniform, the kind a very official, super important park ranger
might wear. Unlike Jethro’s, his had a lot more pockets, a badge,
and a gun. A cowboy hat was at his elbow on the counter; he also
wore cowboy boots. I noted with detachment that his beard and hair
had undergone a transformation. His facial hair had been trimmed,
though his blond beard was still impressive. The unkempt locks on
his head had been brushed, pulled back, and fastened behind his
neck.
    I noted these things with a
small degree of womanly interest. It was instinctual, incidental,
the way a person would notice a Maserati racing down the street and
think, That’s a nice
car .
    His tidy, official-looking
appearance—nay, his commanding appearance—did nothing to endear him
to me, especially not after calling me a cow.
    Therefore, I spoke my
thoughts before I could catch myself. “Really? You’re really going
to quote Nietzsche to me? To me ? Nietzsche? To the sole female in
the room?” I motioned to the kitchen with a flailing, frustrated
hand wave. “When I first wake up? Before I’ve had coffee? After
finding one of my brothers mating with his hand upstairs for
the second time in
as many days, and I’m the cow?”
    “ Can’t mate with hooves,”
Drew said, his delivery deadpan.
    “ And yet, many men prefer
the company of sheep over their hands, or even women.” I said this
sweetly before I gave him my back and glared at Jethro. “I need to
talk to you.”
    I tilted my head toward
the family room and walked out of the kitchen, waiting for Jethro
to follow. I didn’t have to wait very long; but to my infinite
aggravation, Dr. Drew Runous, PhD, trailed right behind my brother
tucking his leather notebook into one of the side pockets of his
cargo pants.
    I scowled at him before
looking at my oldest brother. I was careful to keep my