his twin sister, Sabrina, who lived in Manhattan—had been adopted when they were older, in their case after their parents died in a car crash. And, since Matt never mentioned his father, Ty suspected there were some unresolved issues there. True, they’d only been six when their folks died, but some things imprint early. He should know.
“Screw it up? Are you kidding? You’ve so got this, man.” Ty clapped his brother’s shoulder. “Seriously.”
Matt sighed, but through a crooked smile. Dude was the happiest Ty had ever seen him. After his skank ex had cheated on him like that? On somebody who, as far as Ty knew, had never done anything wrong in his entire freaking life? He totally deserved to be happy—
“So you ready for the wedding?” Matt asked.
“Hey. All I have to do is show up.” He snatched a piece of American cheese off the plate by the grill. “You’re the one getting married. Again.”
“Your time will come, buddy. Yes, it will, don’t give me that look. You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? Or you just gonna eat all my cheese?”
“Don’t hold your breath, no, and don’t get your boxers in a bunch, there’s still four pieces left. Okay, three,” he said, stuffing another slice in his mouth.
“Why aren’t you staying?” Kelly appeared like an apparition, setting a bowl of creamy potato salad flecked with bits of red and green something or other on the tempered glass table beside him.
“The wall,” he said, trying not to drool, and she nodded.
“Right. Forgot. Then at least let me send home a doggie bag—”
“You don’t have to do that...”
“No arguments. There’s plenty. And if you stare any harder at the potato salad you’re going to meld with it. Coop, honey? Go get... Oh, never mind, I’ll do it.” She patted Ty’s shoulder. “Do not move.”
After she tromped off, her red curls bouncing between her shoulder blades, Matt chuckled. “The woman lives to feed people. I am so blessed.”
It was true, Ty thought later, as, laden with enough rations to see him through next winter, he parked in his driveway, Boomer panting his head off behind him. His brother had been blessed, in ways Matt probably couldn’t have imagined a few months ago. But then, he’d always wanted a family. Kids. And Ty had no doubt his big brother, who used to keep an eye on all of them like a frickin’ sheep dog, would make a damn good father. Ty, however...
The very thought made him shudder. Not that he wasn’t crazy about his nieces and nephews—their oldest brother, Ethan, had four kids—but having his own? No way. As far as that went—he shoved the dog’s head out of the bag of food, grabbed it and got out of the car—he definitely knew who he was. Or, in this case, wasn’t—
“Boomer! What the hell? Get over here!”
Halfway to Laurel’s, the dog stopped in his tracks, turned around. But only to plant his butt in the grass, then look over his shoulder. Then again at Tyler, all jowly pleading. In the distance, thunder rumbled from black-as-soot clouds, threatening another storm. So much for working outside tonight. Although, truth be told, by the time he finished eating it’d probably be too dark—and he’d be too wiped out—to get much done, anyway.
Then, faintly, even over Laurel’s rumbling air conditioner unit and another round of thunder, Tyler heard music. Not clearly enough to make out what it was, even when he went closer—to get his mule-headed dog—but definitely not punk rock.
He grabbed the dog’s collar and marched him back to the house and up the steps...where he looked over at Laurel’s prissy little house, which sat more forward on the lot than his did. Meaning he could see in her side window pretty good. She had a lamp on, her back to him as she worked at her computer. She’d bunched her hair into a pair of ridiculous-looking ponytails sticking out on either side of her head...and she was swaying to the music. Like, from the depths of her soul.
And...singing?
She stretched out her arms, her head falling back... Yep. Singing.
He laughed out loud.
And Boomer whined, straining to break free of Ty’s grasp. He looked at those pitiful yellow eyes, that even more pitiful underbite...and Kelly had hooked him up with so much food, he’d never be able to eat it all...
This, he could share. In fact, it would be wrong not to.
Phone in hand, he scrolled through his contacts and pressed Send, smiling when he saw Laurel jump. She fumbled for her phone beside the laptop, but he couldn’t see her expression when she checked the display.
“Ty? What—?”
“You eat yet?”
She paused, still staring at her computer screen. “Why?”
“Turn around.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just do it.”
She did, gasping a little when she saw him watching her. The phone still to her ear, she got up, came to the window. Opened it. Now he could hear the music, some kind of jazz. Sultry. Blood-stirring. Was she wearing...pajamas? Hard to tell behind the screen.
“What are you doing?”
Pocketing his phone, Tyler held up the bag. A rain-scented breeze skirted across the porch, messing with his hair. “Inviting you to share a feast. And you can put down the phone now.”
“Oh. Right.” She did. “What kind of feast?”
“Burgers. Potato salad. Regular salad with homemade ranch dressing. And some dessert that defies description.”
“Where did you—?”
“From my brother and sister-in-law. Well, soon to be. In a month. She’s a caterer. As in, her cooking kicks butt. You do not want to pass this up, believe me.”
Laurel lifted her hand to the back of her neck. Apparently felt the ponytails. “I’m already in my jammies,” she said, yanking out first one, then the other, band. She ruffled her hair. To make it lay down again, he supposed. Didn’t work.
“So I see,” he said. “You do realize it’s only seven-thirty?”
“Since I wasn’t expecting company, what’s it to you?”
He grinned. “Should I put mine on, too?”
“Let me guess. You don’t wear any.”
“You spoiled the surprise,” he said, and she laughed. “So. You want to help Boomer and me eat this stuff or not?”
“Do I have to get dressed?”
“Not on my account. Do I have to stay dressed?”
“Yes.”
“Party pooper,” he said, and she laughed again.
“Bring the dog. We’ll eat outside!”
* * *
Laurel’d eaten dinner already, of course. Hours ago. But the budding baby carnivore in her womb leaped at the prospect of hamburgers. And potato salad. As long as the salad was fresh and the hamburgers well-done. Because she wasn’t taking any chances.
As if she hadn’t done that already, she thought, ramming a comb through her sticky-outty hair. And was doing it again, since simply letting Tyler come over was a challenge to what little was left of her hormone-ravaged sanity.
She tossed a lightweight robe on over the pajamas, a set of her grandfather’s she found while packing up Gran’s house. Silk, no less. Comfy as hell. And roomy enough to hide an elephant in. Or, in this case, her little passenger.
The doorbell rang. The loose robe flapping around her thighs, she tramped barefoot through the house and opened the door, bending to get kisses from