“Porn is the only good thing left in my life, and Mom and Dad canceled the good cable package. Besides, her internet connection is way better than ours.”

That this is Billy’s defense is not particularly surprising, but it is annoying. “You owe our neighbor a grand.”

“What? No way. That’s insane.”

“So is the fact that you ordered enough dirty videos to rack up that kind of bill.” I grab his laptop off the bed and head for the door.

“Hey! Where are you going? That’s mine!”

“Not anymore it isn’t. It’s collateral until you cough up the money to pay Van’s cable bill.” I slam the door closed behind me and run into my dad on the way through the kitchen.

I can hear Billy swearing a blue streak from his bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Dad takes a tentative sip of his coffee.

“Other than your son having a porn addiction, nothing much.”

He sprays hot coffee on the counter. “What?”

“I’m taking care of it. We should get going. I have a conference call with a new lumber company outside of town at eight. Harry suggested them.”

“Right. Okay. That’s good. Is that Billy’s laptop?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I guess that explains why he’s screaming like you’ve lopped off a limb.”

I shoot him a look.

He mumbles something about moody kids and follows me out to the truck. He doesn’t balk when I take the driver’s seat, happy to sit back, relax, and enjoy the bumpy ride to the office at the edge of downtown.

“Are you serious about Billy having a porn addiction? Is it something I need to talk to him about?” Dad rubs the back of his neck, his face flushed with discomfort.

The only time either of my parents mentioned sex when I was growing up was to tell me not to have it. I told them it was easy for them to say. They’d grown up together and got married at sixteen with the consent of their parents. Which is incomprehensible to me. At sixteen I was barely capable of keeping my room clean and handing my assignments in on time, let alone running a household. And sex is one of the very few activities that’s free and entertaining when you’re a teen living in a small town.

I went to the clinic in the next town over with Tawny and Allie, got myself a prescription for birth control pills, and made Tucker wear a condom anyway. Turns out that was a good idea, since he had a habit of hooking up with other girls on the side—usually while we were on a break, but not always.

“If you want to embarrass the hell out of him, sure. I get that he’s bored, but there are a million other things he could be doing besides ordering dirty videos all day. I think the bigger problem is that he managed to hack into Bee’s internet and cable because it’s faster and racked up a thousand-dollar bill.”

“A thousand bucks? Isn’t internet porn free?” Dad’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head.

I cock a brow. “Not when you’re ordering specific movies on demand all the time.”

“Geez.” He runs his hand through his hair again and blows out a breath.

“So I confiscated his laptop until he coughs up the money. I’m assuming he must have something in the bank, since he lives with you guys and works a full-time job.”

“You’d think. Boy doesn’t seem to have your money sense. He’ll do well for a while, socking it away, and then boom.” He snaps his fingers. “He’ll get an idea in his head that he wants something, and all of a sudden his savings disappear. That’s how we ended up with the dirt bike, the ATVs, and the IROC-Z in the garage.”

Billy has always been on the impulsive side. It’s why he’s ended up in trouble so much, but he’s taken it to a whole new level of impulsivity lately.

“He has to have a grand, though, don’t you think?”

“Usually his paychecks are gone by the time they hit his account.” Dad shrugs, not because he’s apathetic, but more that he’s at a loss. “At least we did good with you, right?”

I give him a small smile. “Yeah, you did good with me.” But it makes me sad that so many people have already written Billy off as a screwup, and I wonder if I’ve taken to the narrative, too, and whether we’re making it impossible for him to feel like he can clean up his act.

When we get to the office, I head to my desk, fire up my computer, and get ready for my conference call while the guys load the trucks in preparation for the day. By nine thirty I’ve managed to work out a deal with a new local lumber supplier with tiered pricing that includes deeper discounts as we reach order thresholds. It’s a great step forward.

Once I end the call, I hop in the truck and head to town so I can pick up a few things we need in the office, including dusting cloths and a lamp for my desk. The fluorescent lights are brutal and give me a headache. They were the reason that I hid behind a baseball cap in high school most of the time. That and I couldn’t be bothered to style my hair most days. Now I just pull the curls up in a ponytail to keep them out of the way.

Uncle John asked me to stop by the real estate office this week, and I figure I might as well get it out of the way. We have a good relationship with them, because they’re always letting us know when renovation projects are coming up on the market, and they send a lot of referrals our way. Anything on the north side of the lake is generally going to undergo a substantial renovation, and being the only construction outfit in town makes it easier to snatch up local business opportunities.

I’m crossing my fingers that I don’t run into Tucker, since I’m now aware he’s working for Pearl Lake Realty. I do all my running around and picking up of things before I stop at their office. Luck seems to be on my side, and Tucker is nowhere to be seen. I make small talk for a few minutes but do my best to get out of there as quickly as I can. My last stop is Boones so I can pick up lunch for the guys and, of course, apple fritters.

I’ve reached my truck when a very familiar male voice calls out, “Darlin’? Is ’at you?”

I deflate like a popped inner tube. Looks like my luck has run out. I plaster on a smile and turn around.

Tucker jams a hand into his black dress pants as he saunters down the sidewalk toward me wearing his signature smirk. He’s wearing a light-blue golf shirt, and despite the fact that it’s in the mideighties, he has a sweater tied around his neck like he fell out of a bad nineties movie. He’s completed the look with tan penny loafers, with pennies.

“Babe, look at you.” His gaze roves over me in a way that makes me want to immediately jump in the shower. He whistles. “Wow. The city done you good, huh?” He makes that twirl motion with his finger, as if he expects me to do a spin.

I’m wearing jeans, flats, and a company T-shirt, still two sizes too big because the ones I ordered for me aren’t in yet. There’s nothing sexy about my outfit, and there is no way I would ever do a spin for Tucker. Even if he paid me a million dollars. Okay, maybe for a million. But I’d want payment up front.

“Hey, Tucker.”

“That’s it? After all these years, all you’re gonna say is ‘Hey, Tucker’? How about a hug?” He opens his arms wide.

“I’m not a hugger, and my hands are full.” I hold up one of the take-out bags and use the other as a convenient shield.