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Taking another sip of my coffee, I watched him haul another box out of the truck.

“Are you going to keep staring at me?” he asked loudly, tipping his head up towards the balcony to see me.

I shrugged. “I’m not staring at you,” I lied.

He narrowed his eyes and rumbled, “Yes, you are.”

I shrugged again. “I’m enjoying the weather.”

That was true.

It was mid-October, and the evenings had finally cooled off enough that I could sit outside without feeling like I was going to melt.

Shaking his head, Nightmare set the box down on the tailgate and reached for another one.

And good Lord.

He bent at the waist, and every muscle in his back rippled. When he straightened, a bead of sweat slid from the hollow of his throat, down the center of his chest, and over the ridges of his stomach, disappearing into the dark line of hair that ran from his navel and vanished beneath the waistband of a pair of low-slung Wranglers.

Heat crawled up my neck and flooded my cheeks.

Lord have mercy.

The man was fine with a capital F.

“Jesus,” I whispered into my mug.

Nightmare paused with the box halfway to his chest, and his eyes flicked up to mine.

For a split second, I wondered if he’d heard me.

Holding my breath, I watched as he worked his jaw back and forth, contemplating his next words. Thankfully, before he could figure it out, two motorcycles rolled down the alley.

The first rider I recognised as my brother, Denali, but the second one…

Squinting, I took him in.

“Oh, shit!”

Happier than I’d been in months, I jumped to my feet, abandoning my coffee on the railing, and made a mad dash for the door. He was home. He was really home.

Gravel bit into the bottom of my feet as I shot across the lot like a rocket. “You’re back!” I screeched, and tears of pure joy streamed down my cheeks.

Then, without a single thought for the shirtless man I’d been drooling over for the last hour, I launched myself into my brother Alex’s arms.

He grunted and rocked back on his heels from the impact.

“Hey, squirt.”

I closed my eyes and buried my face in his neck. He smelled like leather and road dust.

“God, I missed you so much.”

Alex had only been home once or twice in as many years, and only ever for a couple of days at a time.

It was never enough. Not even close.

“You’re really back,” I said into his shoulder.