“Y-yes.” She sniffles. “I tried to tell him I was okay to drive, but he said he needed a break from all the city drama. I guess yesterday he took a client golfing, and he treated him like a criminal. These people are a bunch of assholes.”

“I’m sorry, Teag. I wish this wasn’t such a nightmare for everyone.”

“It’s not your fault. I know it wasn’t you who took that money. It’s just such a mess here. And Dad went out and bought a freaking new Porsche. As if that’s a good idea when we’re in the middle of all this crap. Hold on.” She blows her nose. “Sorry about that. My friends haven’t been very understanding. But none of them are nearly as bad as Troy.”

“What happened with Troy?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you. I don’t want to start crying again.”

I have to guess that it’s bad if my sister is at risk of shedding even more tears. “Okay, we’ll put a pin in that conversation until you get here. When are you planning on heading this way?”

“Bradley is getting his hair cut, and then I think after that. Do you need me to bring you anything? Food? Supplies? Money?”

“No, I’m okay. Just bring yourself.”

“Not even something from Hoopla’s? I’ll pick you up a treat.”

“You don’t have to do that. It’ll be out of your way.” Hoopla’s is one of my favorite bakeries in the city. They make the fanciest decadent desserts, but they don’t hold a candle to the stuff they carry in Boones, which has become my new addiction.

“I don’t mind. I’ll see you soon. I love you, Donny.”

“Love you, too, Teag. See you soon. Tell Bradley to drive safe.”

I’m actually excited to see my sister. It’s been weeks since we’ve spent any time together.

I decide it’s a good idea to tidy up and get the guest bedrooms ready. I’ve just finished putting fresh sheets on the beds in the spare room and Grammy Bee’s room when I get a call from Dillion. “Hey, beautiful, what’s up?”

“Are you breathing heavy?”

“I was moving some stuff around.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure that’s all you were doing. Have you even gotten out of bed yet?”

“I got up nice and early, you know, so I can make good use of daylight hours. I have this neighbor who likes to ream me out if I’m too loud past ten at night.”

“Your neighbor sounds like a problem.”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Besides, I have other things I like to do after ten that are way more fun, especially since it’s my neighbor being loud, not me.” I lean against the doorjamb, my gaze catching on the patched drywall behind the headboard.

“I’m not loud!”

“You’re not quiet, either, and that’s a good thing, Dillion. I’m a big fan of the sound of your orgasms. In fact, I can’t wait to hear them later.” I cringe when I remember that my sister and brother are going to be here tonight, sleeping down the hall from me. Which means those orgasms I’m getting all excited about aren’t going to happen. “Actually, I might have to take a raincheck on that. My sister called and asked if she can come up and visit for a couple of days.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no. I think something might have gone down with her boyfriend, but I’m not sure what. She said she’d tell me when she gets here. My brother is driving.”

“Oh no. Well, you’ll obviously want some family time.”

“You can still meet them, though? You could come for dinner?” I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve invited a woman to meet my family. I definitely like her enough to stage an introduction. The fact that Dillion can cook doesn’t hurt, either, especially since my sister makes salads, and baked goods she rarely eats, and Bradley’s skill set ends at dialing for takeout.

“Do you want me to come for dinner?”

“I always want you to come. And I love eating you for dinner, but it might be awkward with my family there.”

She snickers. “Oh my God, you’re the worst. Maybe it’s better for me to skip family dinner.”

“Don’t skip dinner. I’d love for you to meet Teagan and Bradley.” My brother is high on the pretentious side, but hopefully he’ll be on his best behavior with Dillion present.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Should I pick anything up? A bottle of wine? Something for dinner?”

“I was thinking I’d make it easy and grill burgers.” Mostly because it’s the only thing I can make that I don’t mess up. Even my grilled cheese sandwiches end up burnt most of the time.

“You can’t just have burgers, Van. I’ll make a salad. Oh, and potato salad. Or loaded double-baked potatoes.”

“Loaded double-baked potatoes?”

“Yeah, you bake them, then scoop out the insides and mix them with butter, sour cream, bacon, chives, and cheese and bake them again.”

“Those sound heavenly and like they require a workout afterward. The naked kind.”

“Well, that’s not happening with your family visiting, since as you mentioned before, I’m not very quiet. Looks like you’ll have to go for an after-dinner run. Speaking of running, I’ve got a meeting in twenty. I’ll see you later tonight.”

She ends the call before I can fire off a snarky comeback.

CHAPTER 20

BROTHERLY NO LOVE

Van

Bradley and Teagan don’t arrive until almost five. I’m guessing my brother is the reason for the delay. They’re also driving his lemon-yellow Porsche convertible. Bradley always likes to make a statement, and his car certainly does that. It screams rich, entitled, and ostentatious. At least my BMW is black and less in your face. Subdued pretention, if you will.

“Wow, this place is . . . more of a heap than I remember.” Bradley slams his car door shut and looks around, cringing when he eyes the pile of trash bags I have yet to take to the dump. They’re leaning against Billy’s car graveyard. Apparently, he has plans to fix them all up. I’m not sure there will actually be anything left of them by the time he gets around to it other than rust and dust, but they’re not on my property, and I honestly don’t care either way.

Teagan gets out of the passenger side. I smile at her outfit. It’s definitely her version of dressed down. She’s wearing a pair of high-top rhinestone-encrusted running shoes—likely bought as a gift from my dad because she said they were fun—camo-print capris, an artfully torn tank top that probably cost a small fortune, and Gucci sunglasses. Her hair is pulled up in her definition of a messy ponytail.

She runs over and throws her arms around me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s in a mood because he had to drive on a dirt road, and he’s worried about chips in his paint. I’ve missed you. I miss Sunday brunch and cocktail hours and sane conversations.”

I return the embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of Chanel No. 5, her favorite perfume, which also happened to be what our mother wore. Which means in two minutes or less she’s going to be swarmed by mosquitos and a whole host of other bugs that will find her amazingly delicious.