“Suit yourself.”
I did—I stared at his hard ass all the way up.
“I’m right here.” He pointed to the room closest to the stairs before pushing into the door across from it. “And you’re here.”
That close?
“The next door is the bathroom. I have my own, so don’t worry about running into me.”
“I was more worried about your beard trimmings in the sink.”
He winked at me. “That’s not all I keep nice and trimmed.” I made a choking sound and he laughed, dropping my bag on the bed. “Get some rest, Maddy.”
I stood at the entrance. The room was as lush as the carpet. A queen-size bed with a polished wooden headboard darker than the logs of the exterior walls was surrounded by matching dressers and nightstands.
“Good night,” I said woodenly, humbled by a room that was calling me poor.
He came within inches of me as he exited. “Sleep tight.”
I would with that voice still in my head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Teller
I stepped into Mama’s house. Wynter was sitting on the counter with her feet swinging. Myles crowded close to her, and I was one hundred percent sure they’d been making out before I’d entered.
“Careful,” I warned. “You might get pregnant again.”
“Teller!” She laughed. Myles didn’t bother to hide how satisfied he looked with himself.
Someday I’d quit being envious of my siblings, but today was not that day.
I dug through Mama’s freezer just as Tate pushed through the back door.
“Did you get any answers on that brick business?” he asked.
Myles propped a hand on his hip but didn’t leave my sister’s side. The Bailey grapevine was in full force. I had kick-started it. News would be around town soon enough. The asshole who’d done it would be bragging, and then I would catch him. Madison didn’t want to go to the police and I wouldn’t charge through her boundary. But I could get around it.
“No,” I said grimly, removing a tray of burritos. Would Madison moan over these like the pork chops last night?
“Did she go to the police?” Tate asked like he knew the answer.
“Doesn’t trust ’em.” I had to set the burritos on the counter before my fingers froze. “I didn’t push her. It’s not like they’ll care about Flatlanders.” The bar was probably the last business law enforcement wanted to see resurrected.
“Officer Tom is a good guy,” Tate argued.
“But he’s glad not to have so many drunk drivers to pull over with Flatlanders closed.” I shrugged. “Plus, he’s nice to us. How would he be to Maddy?”
Tate frowned, but Myles nodded. He’d had a different upbringing than us. Myles would get how Maddy felt.
“Myles has a window guy,” Wynter offered, rubbing her husband’s back. “He hooked us up with the house. He supplies all the McCountry Mansions getting built in Jackson Hole.”
I had a McCountry Mansion.
“I’ll send you his info,” Myles said.
“I’ll take it, but I’m not sure it’ll be a good fit.” My sister and brother-in-law hadn’t built on a budget. The land had been gifted to Wynter by our father like mine had been. Myles was wealthy from his own distillery and investment endeavors. Madison didn’t have their means.
