Ash ran a hand down his face. I smothered a laugh. I hated talking business but I loved the opportunity to bust my brother's balls. As the youngest of a set of triplets, it was one of the few privileges bestowed upon me. It was my birthright to rile up Ash and our sister Magnolia every chance I got, regardless of our age.
"Will you alter your day-to-day work as a result of last month's P&L? No. Your overhead is extremely low and your revenue streams are stable, which makes a fine case for keeping your focus on the tree doctoring rather than the accounting."
"I enjoy when you make my arguments for me," I said.
"Will you take last month's P&L as further evidence that you should consider Magnolia's partnership proposal which would open you up to greater—"
"Hold that thought."
My hands braced on the window frame, I leaned toward the glass to watch a white woman walking toward the Volvo. But to say she was simply walking was a gross understatement. This was striding, each step purposeful and sharp, as if she wanted the earth to know she wasn't about to repeat herself. Energy radiated from her, far from warm but not exactly cold either, and it was clear she could stomp one of those pretty high-heeled shoes, crack open a chasm deep enough to fully digest those who got in her way, and be finished with them without getting so much as a smudge of dirt on her hands.
I couldn't tell you the color of her hair or eyes, or anything about her body, but I knew everything about her from the way she walked.
And that did something to me. Something I couldn't explain. I couldn't even begin to examine the rattling, rumbling hum it ignited inside me.
I gestured toward the woman. She wore a dress that looked like an artifact from the 1950s. "Isthatyour burglar?"
"I think so."
Jabbing a finger in her direction, I continued, "What kind of burglar is that?"
"I'll admit she appears to be an unorthodox burglar." He edged closer, his shoulder bumping mine as he shifted. "What is she carrying? Is that a tire iron?"
"No, that's a crowbar and—oh, for fuck's sake—a power drill." I took a step back, reached for the doorknob. "Let's go. Come on. Let's see what this is all about."
My brother fell in step with me as we reached the end of the driveway where a dense row of roses separated my property from Midge's. "What's the plan here?" he murmured, still clutching his iced coffee.
I cut him an impatient glance but there was no changing my brother's hardwiring. He required a strategic plan to make a roast beef sandwich. Ignoring him, I called to the woman, "Good morning. Need some help?"
She pivoted from Midge's door, the drill in hand and the crowbar tucked under her arm. She didn't smile when she replied, "Hello there. Good morning. I'm all set, thank you."
In a silent dismissal, she turned back to the door.
Ash lifted his coffee, saying, "Should we call someone?"
"Unnecessary. We've got this." Leaving my brother behind, I stepped around the roses and crossed into Midge's yard, stopping a good distance from the door. Regardless of what was happening here, I wasn't going to be the guy who trapped a woman on a porch. Especially when that woman possessed several weapons and a thick cloud of fearlessness. "Excuse me. What are you doing?"
She shifted to face me again, her cocked hip the only visible reaction to my questioning. "I'm prying open the door as this lock is not interested in my key."
"So, you—you have a key."
She held up a chain, a single key dangling from the ring. A bedazzled charm in the shape of a peach winked from the other end of the chain. "I have a key."
There was honey in her voice, something warm and southern and completely at odds with the rest of herunhinge the jaw, drag you into the ocean, and crush your bones and destroy you like a krakenvibe.
"This is Midge's house," I replied. "And I'm sorry but I don't know who the hell you are so I'm gonna need some more information before I let you bust open her door."
"Before youletme. Mmhmm. That's fascinating."
I fisted my hands on my hips. "Is it?"
She blinked at me for a second before that expression of authority shifted into something much more terrifying. Her eyes brightened and her lips pulled up at the sides in the faintest whisper of a smile, and the trap of her momentary amusement distracted me long enough to realize she wasgorgeous. Hair like rich bourbon, dark eyes, full, luscious curves. She reminded me of summer—screen doors banging in the breeze, ripe strawberries, and the kind of oppressive heat that sent sweat rolling down your back.
This, too, did something to me. I couldn't explain any part of it but I knew I was bothered enough by my reaction to continue arguing with her.
"Your concern is appreciated though unnecessary. Midge is my aunt. Rather,wasmy aunt."
"Your aunt," I repeated. I didn't remember hearing anything about a niece and I'd heard a whole fucking lot of Midge's stories. "She was youraunt?"
