He huffed a low laugh, the sound warm enough to settle under my skin. “I’ll bet you’re a hard one to handle.”
“Maybe,” I said, brushing past him toward the porch, refusing to let him see the smile threatening my lips. “Guess you’ll figure that out soon enough.”
His voice followed me, low, amused, confident. “Lookin’ forward to it.”
I didn’t turn around.
But I felt his smile on my back the whole way to the door.
CHAPTER TEN
THE RIGGS PLACEsat on the edge of town, tuckedbehind a long stretch of oaks and a fence my daddy built himself back when I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top rail. Morning light spilled through the branches, turning everything gold and soft at the edges. A thin fog still clung to the ground, curling around tires and fence posts, and the smell of breakfast drifted across the yard before I even made it up the drive.
They were home.
I parked beside their RV, the old beast lookin’ like it still had a thousand miles of trouble and stories left in it, and killed the engine. The early air held that cool bite before the Carolina heat settled in, and somewhere inside the house, laughter rolled out low and familiar.
The second I opened the door, Ma’s voice rang out like she’d been waitin’ on the exact moment my boots hit the porch. “Calder Riggs, if that’s you, you wipe those damn boots before you track mud through my clean floor.”
Some things never changed.
“Nice to see you too, Ma,” I said, doin’ exactly what she told me anyway.
She stood in the kitchen with an apron tied tight at her waist, dark hair pulled back, still pretty as ever. A wooden spoon stayed raised in her hand like a warning. Daddy sat at the table, coffee mug in one hand, engine manual in the other, lookin’ exactly like he had my whole life. Broad-shouldered. Weathered. Solid as a damn boulder.
“Look what the wind done dragged in,” he said without liftin’ his eyes.
“Wind’s got good taste,” I shot back.
Ma turned then, eyes lighting up, and before I could brace for it she wrapped me in a hug that smelled like flour and vanilla and home. “You look thin,” she said into my shoulder.
“I look the same,” I muttered. “You only saw me a month ago.”
“Then you looked thin last time too.” She smacked my arm and went back to stirrin’ whatever magic she had goin’ in that pot. “You stay for breakfast. Briar’s out back with the dogs.”
“Still feedin’ every stray in the county?” I asked Daddy.
He chuckled, deep and warm. “You know damn well that girl ain’t never quittin’.”
Right on cue, the screen door squeaked open and Briar strode in, dirt smudged across her cheek, a shepherd mix tailin’ her like a shadow. “Speak of the devil,” she said, kickin’ the door shut with her heel. “Ma, tell Daddy to quit lettin’ Spark drink his coffee.”
Daddy lifted his mug, innocent as sin. “He earned it.”
Briar rolled her eyes and hauled me into a hug. “Where you been, big brother?” She pulled back, grinnin’, long dark hair pulled loose, blue eyes bright. “You spend all your time at that bar.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Still herdin’ drunks and tryin’ to keep Gatsby from burnin’ the place down.”
She snorted. “You love it.” Then her grin sharpened. “Heard you got a new woman at the clubhouse.”
I groaned and dropped into a chair. “You been talkin’ to Lucy again?”
“Lucy talks to everybody.” Briar snagged a piece of bread off the counter like she was stealin’ it. “Word is, you been spendin’ a whole lotta time lookin’ in one direction lately.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “You sound like Ma.”
Ma didn’t even turn around. “That’s ’cause she’s right. You got a tell, Calder. Always have.”
Daddy folded his paper and leveled that look at me, the one that said he’d heard every rumor twice and already dug the truth out from under it. “Ain’t one of the sweet butts, I hope. Don’t be a dumbass, boy.”
