Trey stood toe-to-toe with his best friend and scanned his face—crooked, twice-broken nose, wide jaw peppered with dark whiskers, high forehead permanently creased from too much scowling—and searched for any similarities to the redheaded goddess he’d claimed as his sister. Aside from the eyes, Trey didn’t see the resemblance. More importantly, he wondered how the hell Luke had gone ten years without mentioning her. His buddy had always been an overly private man, but damn, why would he keep something like this a secret?
A tiny seed of doubt took root and sprouted in Trey’s mind, spreading like kudzu over a vacant lot. Maybe their friendship wasn’t as tight as he’d thought. He’d always felt at home in Sultry Springs—assumed folks like Luke had made him part of the family—but what if he’d only seen what he wanted to see? What if he was just another Yankee outsider to them, even after all these years? In that case, leaving town would be a whole lot easier than he’d anticipated.
“I dunno. Got any more sisters comin’ to visit?” Trey asked. He took two giant steps toward Luke’s desk and snatched the bag of corn, knocking an empty Coke can to the floor in the process. “Maybe a brother? Secret compound of wives on the side?” Bending low, he tugged open the mini-fridge door and chucked the corn inside.
“You’re mad.” It wasn’t a question.
“Here’s what I don’t get.” Trey plopped into Luke’s chair. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me you had a sister, but now you expect me to spend the whole friggin’ summer keeping her out of trouble.” Shaking his head, he dug both thumbs deep into his thigh, where a slow warmth flared up the length of his femur. “You know how hard that’s gonna be? She’s smokin’. She’ll draw every horn-ball from ten miles around.”
“Hey!” Luke lifted his chin, along with one index finger. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“You’re something else, you know that? What’s your problem—why didn’t you tell me?”
“I had my reasons.”
“Yeah? Let’s hear ’em.”
Luke’s jaw tightened and he gazed into the wastebasket like the answer might’ve fallen in there, along with the crumpled tissues and banana peels. He hesitated a few times, and when he finally spoke, he kept his eyes trained on the garbage. “You know about my mama.”
Yeah, Trey knew. When Luke was twelve, his mom had gone out to finish her Christmas shopping. Only she’d passed Toys“R”Us and kept driving till she hit California. Miss Pru—June’s grandma—had taken Luke in, and she’d raised him like her own son.
“Bobbi was only three or four then,” Luke continued. He cleared his throat. “Mama took
her
when she skipped town, and after she died, Bobbi went into foster care. I just found her a few years ago.”
“Okay?” Trey didn’t understand what any of this had to do with keeping Bobbi a secret. “Does June know?”
“Of course.” Luke bent to retrieve the fallen Coke can and tossed it into the recycling bin. “June lived right next door with her grandma. She remembers Bobbi from when we were all kids.”
“Wait a minute.” Was Trey the only guy in the county who hadn’t known about this? If he hadn’t felt like an outsider before, he sure did now. “If it’s no secret, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why does it matter? You know now.” Luke slashed one hand through the air like a samurai to declare the topic closed. “What’s next—you wanna hold hands and go on TV and talk about our feelings? Enough of this crap.”
Trey delivered a burning
fuck
you
glare and clutched his leg. That slow warmth had sparked a flame inside his bones, and he sucked in a sharp breath while fishing another BC Powder from his pocket.
He needed to head out before things got ugly. Not only had Luke ticked him off, but the aspirin wasn’t doing the trick, and his temper boiled even hotter when pain set in. The stubborn ass in front of him was still his business partner, for the next few months at least, so it probably wasn’t a good idea to let things escalate to fistfighting. Even though that’s exactly what they needed—one good brawl to break the pent-up tension and start fresh.
“I better check on your sister. If I know Colton, he’s bending her over the pool table while we’re back here bullshitting.” Grasping his leg, Trey stood. “Anything else I can do for you?” The question was just a sarcastic jab, and he didn’t expect the response that followed.
“Yes.”
“What’s that,
buddy
?”
Luke stood too. Bracing both hands against the desk, he leaned forward and shot laser beams into Trey’s eyes. “Keep it in your pants.”
“What?” He couldn’t have heard that right. “Are you screwing with me?”
“I saw you watching Bobbi when she was in here.” Luke’s green eyes simmered, his grip tightening around the desk’s ledge.
Of course Trey’d watched her. He’d perched right there on the edge of his friend’s desk with a front row view of Bobbi’s succulent thighs, and when she’d gone all pouty and folded her arms, it had pushed up her breasts and given him a peek down the front of her top. Who in his right mind wouldn’t have taken a gander at that? “Jesus, that’s no crime. She’s a fine-looking woman, and I—”
“Don’t pull that shit. I know you. But you don’t know her, or all the stuff she lived through with our nutjob mama. Sometimes I think I got the best end of the deal, getting left behind. She’s damaged. Fragile—”
“The lump on my head disagrees with you.” Fragile his ass. Luke had more wool over his eyes than a mammoth. The dupe hadn’t even picked up on his sister’s lies. She had an easy tell: scratching her nose. Bobbi might’ve come up hard, but she seemed stronger for it, and her brother was seriously deluded if he thought she needed a savior. Hell, Trey was the one who needed protection. She’d balled that little fist and jabbed fiercer than Tyson.
“I’m not gonna argue this.”
“You got nothing to worry about,” Trey assured him. Even if Bobbi had the sweetest thighs this side of the Pecos, she was wound so tight she practically squeaked when she walked.
“I want your word. I know I’m not the easiest guy to get along with, but I’ve always thought of you like a—” Luke stopped just short of
brother
, and Trey felt it like a cold shot to the chest. “Just don’t bang my sister.”
“Don’t worry.” Trey crossed the small office and threw open the door. “No chance of that happening.”
Bobbi took the liberty of cranking up the radio, letting John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” replace the awkward silence inside Luke’s truck. Instead of objecting, her brother relaxed his death grip on the steering wheel and hummed along with John in obvious relief.
Their visits had always started like this: neither of them knowing what to say to the other once they’d exhausted all the small talk. They’d already rehashed Luke’s wedding a dozen times, and when they’d stooped to discussing Sultry County’s recent humidity level—
It’s like breathing underwater, I swear to God, Bobbi
—she knew it was time to quit trying so hard and just shut up. It was a sobering reminder that despite their common last name, their relationship didn’t go any deeper than what she shared with the bag boy at Ralph’s Marketplace. If anything, she knew more about that kid than her own flesh and blood.
An empty can of Mountain Dew rolled against her sandal and she kicked it aside, turning her attention out the window, where leaves, weeds, and crops blurred past at sixty miles an hour. The landscape was greener than she’d expected—rows of cedars and oaks that backed up to alternating fields of high cotton and soybeans. She hadn’t set foot here since Mama’d left town all those years ago, and she’d always imagined Texas as a dust bowl, dry and brown and dismal. Her mental pictures couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, the lush scene kind of reminded her of California’s wine country, only flatter.
“That’s my place, just up ahead.” Luke turned onto a gravel road and nodded at the windshield. “Built it myself, just me and Trey.” His face shone with boyish pride, and it coaxed a smile to Bobbi’s lips.
But her smile faded and the breath caught at the top of her lungs when Luke’s property came into view.
On the surface, there was no reason for her to feel gut-punched over the sight of four walls and a roof. It was a cute, modest home—a gray, two-story colonial with a wide, welcoming, wraparound porch—but the damned thing looked eerily like her old dollhouse, the one she hadn’t seen since she and Mama had snuck out of their apartment in the middle of the night to avoid six months back rent.
One of Mama’s boyfriends had bought the dollhouse for two dollars at a yard sale, probably to keep Bobbi entertained while he and Mama spent all afternoon boffing and getting high in the back room. Though the house had only come with a few pieces of mismatched furniture and a one-armed doll, Bobbi had spent each day fantasizing that she lived there instead of a grimy, roach-infested shoebox with a bunch of dopers. She hadn’t thought of that toy, or that hellish time in her life, in ages, and the memories churned up a cocktail of sick feelings, which she promptly pushed away and locked down tight.
But just before snapping the padlock on those emotions, a chunk of jealousy broke free and floated to the surface. “This is where you grew up?” She pointed to the placid pond in the front yard, encircled by hydrangea bushes in full bloom that exploded with pink and yellow blossoms. She hoped Luke hadn’t detected the bitterness in her voice.
“No.” He pointed beyond the trees to an equally beautiful location in the distance. “Over there with June and her grandma, Pru. You can’t see the house from here. It’s about a five-minute walk.”
Nice. While she was evading slumlords, he was munching apple pie in Mayberry.
“And there’s Bruiser, your car for the summer,” Luke said, pointing to an ancient, lavender sedan that, from a distance, appeared tie-dyed.
At first Bobbi had been too fixated on the house to notice the old clunker, but she couldn’t take her eyes off it now—it held her entranced in its fugly spell. As they drove closer and parked beside it, she realized the streaked, faded look had been achieved via spray paint. How had Trey described it? Uglier than a bucketful of assholes or frogs or something like that. Either way, it fit, but she’d suck it up and drive the purple people-eater if it meant repaying her debt to Papa. She didn’t like feeling beholden to anyone, not even her dads.
“Awesome,” she managed to choke out. “Thanks again.”
While climbing down from the truck, Bobbi pulled in a deep breath, filling her nose with the odd mixture of honeysuckle and stagnant water. She stretched her arms high and lifted onto her toes, letting the sunlight kiss her cheeks. At nearly seven, the sun still dominated the sky, but its rays warmed the tops of her shoulders instead of scorching them like it’d done when she’d left the airport at noon.
She’d just turned to ask Luke for help with her luggage when the screen door flew open, slamming against the wood siding. Then a curly-haired brunette appeared, squealing with glee and balling her fists like a kid on Christmas morning. This must be June. Every part of Bobbi’s new sister-in-law bounced with enthusiasm—heels, hair, boobs—as June skipped down the porch steps and came barreling at Bobbi with outstretched arms.
Bobbi braced for impact, widening her stance and digging her three-inch heels into the gravel. The running hug didn’t disappoint, though it did knock her back a couple of inches. A mass of vanilla-scented curls tickled Bobbi’s chin, and June’s arms locked around her and squeezed like albino boa constrictors. In response, three loud pops sounded from Bobbi’s spine.
“Oh, sorry!” June pulled away, her fair cheeks flushing scarlet. “No extra charge for the chiropractic adjustment.” Smiling, she chewed the inside of her cheek as her brown eyes overflowed with adoration. Bobbi couldn’t help but like her immediately. “It’s just…” June darted a glance at her bare feet. “With everything Luke’s told me, I feel like I already know you. And I’ve always wanted a sister.”
Bobbi came dangerously close to unraveling, and she had to fight to maintain a calm expression while her heart warmed and swelled to the size of a cantaloupe. She’d always wished for a sister too. When she was young, back before she’d understood how wrong it would be to bring another child into their screwed-up home, she’d begged Mama to “go to the hospital and buy a baby.” But as much as she wanted to return June’s sentiment, she couldn’t get the words out. Instead, she turned her face to the breeze and blinked her welling eyes until they dried.
“It’s been ages since I’ve had any girl time,” she said. Not very sisterly, but it was the best she could do. Clearing the thickness from her throat, she took a moment to study her new relation, admiring June’s cherubic face and the golden-brown ringlets that brushed her shoulders. She had a classic hourglass figure, but with a disproportionately wide rear end, which Luke couldn’t stop watching. Just proof that the way to a man’s heart was through a big, round ass. Too bad Bobbi didn’t have one of those. In the genetic grab bag of life, she’d gotten stuck with fat thighs instead.
“We’re going to have so much fun this summer,” Bobbi added. “I can’t wait to—”
And then, in true guy fashion, Luke opened his mouth and ruined the moment. “I’m gonna sprout ovaries if you two don’t quit this mushy girl crap.” He wrapped one arm around his wife and pulled her hard against him, then ruffled her hair playfully as he teased, “Besides, who needs a sister when you’ve both got me?”
June perched her chin on Luke’s chest, and the two shared a look so intimate it made Bobbi feel like the mother of all third wheels. She’d filmed a lot of weddings, but she’d never seen a couple gaze at each other quite like this—as if the rest of the world had fallen away, and they existed in their own parallel dimension. The look of two people wholly, irrevocably in love. The way no man had ever looked at her.
It hadn’t occurred to Bobbi before now how awkward it could be sharing a home with newlyweds. Though the wedding had taken place almost two years ago, the honeymoon clearly wasn’t over.
The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires drew the lovebirds’ attention to the road, and Bobbi glanced over her shoulder to watch a red Chevy pickup park beside Luke’s Ford. She caught a glimpse of gray hair through the passenger window, but the sun’s glare blinded her before she could identify anything more.
“It’s Grammy Pru,” June explained. “When she heard you were back, she couldn’t wait to see you again.”
“Good news travels fast.” Typical small town. “Oh, and look.” Bobbi pointed at Trey, who’d hopped down from the driver’s seat and jogged around to open the elderly woman’s door. “Golden Boy too.”
“You already met Trey?” June asked, sounding disappointed. “I was going to introduce you.” As in,
I
wanted
to
play
matchmaker
. No dice, sweetie.
Luke chuckled as he dipped his mouth to June’s ear, no doubt to relay the story of how Trey’s hand had already “met” Bobbi’s rear end.
With heat rushing into her cheeks, no, not
those
cheeks, Bobbi glared at Trey. But then he did something that softened her stone heart and left her puzzled. Gently, he cupped the grandma’s shoulder with one hand and guided her down from the truck with the greatest of care. Though the old lady was built like a brick house—seriously, she had to be six feet tall with hands the size of frying pans—Trey linked their elbows and placed her massive palm atop his forearm like a wedding usher and escorted her to where everyone stood at the foot of the porch.
How very chivalrous. How very un-Treylike.
“Well, ain’t this a nice surprise?” Amazon Granny wore a floral muumuu and a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Though her hair was pulled into a bun tighter than a Hollywood face-lift, she kept tucking imaginary strays behind her ears while unapologetically staring Bobbi down. Unlike June’s unconditional acceptance, it seemed Granny had decided to withhold judgment—make sure Bobbi hadn’t come to town with dishonorable intentions toward her long-lost brother. “Little Bo Gallagher,” she said. It sounded like a cross between an accusation and a challenge.
“Bobbi,” she clarified in a cool voice. She should be used to the scrutiny by now—she’d never felt like she fit in—but she’d expected a little more acceptance in her own hometown.
“Bo?” Trey asked with a smirk.
“Mmm-hmm.” Pru nodded, narrowing her eyes at Bobbi’s strappy heels. “It’s what her mama used to call her.”
This was news to Bobbi.
“So, wait.” A crooked grin brought Trey’s dimples out in full force, and Bobbi’s heart quivered of its own volition. “Bo and Luke?” He chortled to himself. “Got a cousin named Daisy? If so, take me to her right now!”
Luke’s brows formed a dark slash over his eyes as he explained to Bobbi, “Mama was a big
Dukes
of
Hazzard
fan.”
This was also news to her. From what she remembered, Mama was a fan of opiates, Junior Mints, and dickheads—in that order. She’d never watched shows. Instead, she’d used the television as an electronic babysitter, always tuned to
Sesame
Street
or whatever program had kept Bobbi out of her hair. And until the truancy officer had shown up, the TV had been Bobbi’s teacher for a few years, since dressing a child and walking her to the school bus was too much trouble for Mama.
“The Duke boys were moonshiners, like my daddy.” Luke rubbed the back of his neck and took a sudden interest in his steel-toed boots. “She quit watching after he died.”
“
Your
daddy?” Trey asked, obviously wondering why Luke hadn’t said
their
daddy.
“We’re both bastards with different dads,” she said. “That okay with you, Golden Boy?”
“Jesus, it was just a question.”
“Language, Trey Lewis!” Pru smacked his upper arm.
“Sorry, ma’am.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Good thing I’ve got you to pray for my soul.” He was clearly teasing, but when Trey flashed that easy smile, Pru forgave him with a grandmotherly pinch of his cheek.
Bobbi rolled her eyes, and Trey caught it, giving her a not-so-innocent grin. One that said all the praying in the world wouldn’t wash away the sins he wanted to commit with her. She knew that look—it was the same one she’d seen on his stunning face at Shooters when he’d introduced himself, and her stomach had dipped into her shorts then just like it was doing now. Biting her lip, she dropped her gaze and studied her red-polished toenails.
“We should probably fire up the grill before the storm sets in,” Trey said.
Bobbi glanced at the endless, blue sky, where a single cotton ball of a cloud hovered above. “What storm?”
Shaking his head, he laughed dryly. “Oh, it’s coming.” Then he limped—wait, limped?—to Luke’s truck to retrieve her luggage. He clearly favored his right leg, something he hadn’t done a few minutes ago. If he’d hurt himself, she didn’t want him towing her fifty-pound suitcase.
“I can get that.” She teetered across the gravel on her sandals, but Trey waved her off and hauled the bag toward the house as easily as carrying a lunch box. For a few stunned seconds, she watched his bicep muscles bunch beneath his snug shirtsleeve until he tipped open the screen door and disappeared inside. She shook her head, criticizing herself for getting worked up over a few silly muscles, and followed.
An icy blast of air-conditioning frosted the bare skin on Bobbi’s arms, and she rubbed her hands together while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The clunk of Trey’s heavy work boots echoed up the steps, which seemed presumptuous at first, but as Luke’s best friend, it made sense that he’d know the way to the guest bedroom.
The place still had that new house smell—paint, varnish, plaster—and two unpacked cardboard boxes in the foyer confirmed the newlyweds hadn’t quite settled in yet. But judging by the gleaming hardwood floors and meticulously aligned chair railing, Luke and Trey were skilled builders who’d put a lot of love into this home.
June smoothed two fingers over the goose bumps puckering Bobbi’s arms. “Luke keeps it colder than a witch’s heart in here. It’s the only thing we fight about.” She leaned in and waggled her eyebrows. “Cover me while I go change the thermostat.”
June dashed away, and a few moments later, Trey returned down the stairs. He motioned for Bobbi to join him, and when she did, he lowered his voice and said, “Top of the stairs, last door on the right. It’s the smallest room in the house, the paint’s the color of dried puke, and the sun’ll wake you up every morning at six, but it’s farthest from the master bedroom.” He pressed his lips to her ear, brushing her with his soft mouth as he whispered, “Trust me, that’s the one you want. This one time, I crashed upstairs…”