Page 62 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

And there, near the corner where the road bends toward the river, is Second Chance Salvage’s pop-up booth, mostly metal odds and ends today. Old hinges. Fancy doorknobs. Rusted license plates turned into “art.” Cyrus’s eyes keep snagging there. He’s already calculating how to fix something that doesn’t want to be fixed.

Casper elbows him. “What are you doing?”

Cyrus doesn’t blink. “Huh?”

“You have that look. The ‘I’m mentally rebuilding a barn’ look,” Casper says.

I grin. “He can’t help it, darlin’. Some men see a pretty woman. Some men see a door frame with good bones.”

Cyrus rolls his eyes. “And some men call everyone ‘darlin’ until it stops meaning anything.”

I turn that grin on him, slow and unbothered. “Oh, it always means something.”

Casper laughs, knowing that’s true.

Cyrus mutters under his breath, something sounding suspiciously similar to softie.

I ignore it with the grace of a man who hears that word a lot and chooses not to take it personally.

We drift toward a stand selling apple cider donuts. The line’s long. Of course it is. Redwood Run takes sugar seriously.

Cyrus squints at the sign. “Twelve dollars for six donuts?”

Casper leans in to read it. “That’s two dollars a donut.”

Cyrus looks at him, disappointed in his math. “Yes.”

Casper shrugs. “Seems reasonable.”

“It’s fried dough,” Cyrus says.

“It’s fried dough made with love,” Casper corrects.

I take another sip of coffee and let them go.

“Y’all are both wrong,” I tell them. “It’s fried dough made with town gossip. That’s why it’s expensive.”

Casper’s grin turns feral. “Speaking of town gossip, how long are you in town this time, Rex?”

There it is.

The question that always comes sooner or later.

I keep my gaze forward. “A week.”

Cyrus lifts a brow. “A whole week?”

“Got a shorter run next,” I say, and that’s true enough. “Figured I’d rest here. See people.”

Casper’s smile softens a notch. “That’s good.”

Cyrus watches me intently. “You went to Florida last, right?”

I nod once.

Casper whistles low. “How was it?”

I could say fine.