If it’d been a regular day—one that didn’t involve waking up with other people in his house—he would’ve wandered out with his dick swinging. He didn’t give a shit.
But that was not cool when his baby sister was there. And not because he thought it would embarrass Reilly. Oh, no. It took far more than naked bits to make his sassy kid sister’s cheeks turn red. No, it was for his own protection because, with his luck, Reilly would start calling him by some stupid nickname like Buck or Whitey or whatever else her crazy mind could dream up to make fun of his pasty white ass.
Turning back, Stone grabbed his jeans off the back of the chair he’d tossed them on less than two hours ago. He tugged them on, zipped them up. He didn’t bother with the button since he was only going a short distance to the bathroom to take care of business. He snagged a shirt at the last second, figuring it was in everyone’s best interest if he didn’t have to answer unnecessary questions. No doubt, if his sister saw his tattoos, she would have them.
“Mornin’, Stone!” Reilly called when he came out of the room that still contained everything Tate owned in it.
Stone grunted in response and kept going. There was no time for pleasantries. He had to take a piss.
He made it to the bathroom, kicking the door closed behind him. He scoped the room, shaking his head at all the shit that was supposed to be gone before today. Toothbrushes, curling irons, hair products. He glanced over his shoulder at the enormous walk-in shower. There was a damn pink puff hanging from the shower knob. Reilly’s or Tate’s?
The thought made him grin.
So much for them being moved out before he got to town.
Stone sauntered to the toilet, lifted the seat. He’d hoped that giving them three weeks’ notice would’ve been enough to ensure he didn’t have any obstacles to contend with when he arrived. Of course, when he originally thought he would have to move back, he’d expected to have to stay in the house with Mom and Dad. It was pure luck that Reilly and Tate were moving out, giving him a place of his own. At least until he could figure out what to do next.
He should’ve known Reilly would procrastinate. She was good at that.
After flushing, he moved to the sink and looked in the mirror for the first time. Damn. He looked like shit. He needed a haircut in the worst way. He rubbed the dark scruff on his jaw. It needed a trim, too.
For all of three seconds he considered grabbing his toiletries bag but decided against it. He could deal with that this afternoon.Afterhe was moved in and he wouldn’t have to rearrange everyone else’s shit just to shave his face.
A few minutes later, after he washed his hands, brushed his teeth with one of the new, unopened toothbrushes he found in the drawer, and splashed cold water on his face, Stone came out to find Reilly in the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She flashed a smile and slowly pushed it toward him using the tip of one finger. She looked so sweet and so utterly innocent, but he knew better.
“A little sugar and a splash of milk,” she said, her long lashes fluttering.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t so bad. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”
“I’m everyone’s favorite.” Reilly gave him thatwhat-can-you-do?shrug. “But I like hearin’ it, so feel free to say it whenever I’m around.”
Stone chuckled. He’d missed his kid sister. Hell, he’d missed this entire town. A month ago, if anyone asked him if he had plans to return to Coyote Ridge, he would’ve said no. Then the shit hit the fan, and here he was, back in the small town he was born and raised in. Thirty-six years old, and he was starting over. From scratch.
“Did we wake you?”
Stone cocked an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee.
“Okay, fine. I know we woke you. It’s the least I could do on your first day back.”
“You realize I got in about two hours ago.”
Reilly flashed a guileless grin. “Wellthatwas silly of you.”
Yes, apparently, it was. “It’s a day that ends in Y. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Probably.”
Stone waited for her to elaborate or possibly realize that no one was running the Jameson General Store if she was standing here in what used to be her kitchen but now belonged to him.
Reilly stared, those big green eyes glittering with mischief.
Fine. He’d bite. “So why aren’t you?”
“That’s my fault,” Tate announced, joining them in the kitchen. “I have today off, and I thought you weren’t gettin’ in until next week.”
Yeah, that had been the plan. But again, the shit hit the fan, and he’d put tires to asphalt.
“I wanted to get an early start,” Tate explained. “Thought we could have it cleared out before you got here.”
