I flush all over, and Cash's eyes find mine in the mirror, his gaze hitting me with a bolt of electricity.
He's not jealous. I know that. I'm sensing that he's something totally different. Filled with tentative excitement, maybe? Worried about my reaction to his brother's easy flirtation? Worried that things won't go the way he's hoping?
When gravity sends me closer to Scott, there isn't any flirting, and I right myself as quickly as I can, feeling awkward as hell.
"Did you scrub all the dirt from under your fingernails, Melanie?" Colt asks.
"Of course." I hold up my perfectly clean hands. "I'm not scared of getting dirty, but I sure do like to get clean after."
"Amen to that," Cary says. "I swear, the number of times I have to clear hay from the bath plug is embarrassing."
"Better stop rolling in it then," Colt laughs.
"The only one who's been rolling in any hay is Cash," Sawyer says, turning to wink at me. There's a looseness about him tonight, as though any restriction he's put on his behavior around me has been lifted. I haven't had a moment alone with Cash to find out if he's talked to his brothers about our conversation, but Sawyer's demeanor is telling me he has. Are they expecting something to happen tonight? Is this what burger night is really about?
Am I on my first date?
A little bubble of laughter rises inside me, but I manage to swallow it down behind a small smile.
Who has a first date with five men?
Me, I guess.
I'm not really dressed for anything special. I dug out a pair of clean jeans and a plain white shirt. I did my hair a little differently, pulled half up into a barrette. I swiped on some lip gloss, but that's it.
Dates are supposed to be all about pretty dresses and hair curled into beachy waves. They're about shoes with heels and purses too small for anyone's possessions. They're for smart cars and fancy restaurants.
But I don't want any of that, really.
Expensive cars and tiny meals on giant white plates don't appeal to me. Food that tastes good and fills my belly is more my scene. Men who treat a woman with respect and have manners but no airs and graces suit me better.
The Bradfords are exactly the kind of men who would make great husbands. In an ordinary situation, each of them could settle down and make a beautiful family, but what they want from me isn't ordinary, and what we're doing tonight isn't ordinary either.
We're going to eat together, and after, we'll come back to Flint House, and then what?
There's nothing to stop things from happening. I've got no chaperones to keep things between us above board. Cash has asked me, and I've kind of given him the green light, but just thinking about standing in the center of these big strong men, with all of them wanting to kiss me and touch me, has me flushing from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair.
I've fantasized about things that would never have crossed my mind before. And I've found just the thoughts of being with all of the Bradfords arousing. The reality could be so much more than my innocent mind can conjure. A little sigh of breath leaves my lips before I straighten my back, forcing my mind back to reality.
All I've got to do is eat a burger without choking to death, and what happens later is as up to me as it is to them. If I don't like anything, I'll tell them, and I know they'll listen because I trust them.
I trust them.
The realization that my perceptions of the Bradford brothers have shifted from thinking they're devils to trusting them with my body is startling. Startling enough that I grip the edge of the seat so that I have something to prevent me from drifting away.
Beside me, Scott's hand is also resting on the seat, and when our fingers brush, the shiver that runs through my body makes me flinch. The intensity rings out in my mind, but Scott pulls his hand away immediately. Did he see my reaction? Did he worry that I don't want him to touch me?
"So, how do you have your burger, Melanie?" Colt asks, interrupting my panic.
"Medium with bacon, cheese, barbeque relish, and pickles."
"Pickles?" Sawyer screws up his face. "They're the first thing I take out."
"Why?" I swat his hand. "Pickles and beef are meant to be together."
"What about your fries? Ketchup or mayo?"
"Both mixed together." Colt pretends to retch at my suggestion. "What? It makes pink sauce. Pink sauce was a delicacy in my house."
"And milkshake?" Cash asks. "Or beer?"
"Milkshake," I say, smiling as his eyes meet mine in the mirror. "Strawberry, of course."
"Of course."
"I reckon Scott and Cash like beer with their burgers, but I'd say Sawyer's a chocolate milkshake kind of guy."