“Oh, for the love of—” Stone Jameson rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.
It didn’t help. Not even two pillows could drown out his sister’s voice when she was excited. And heaven help them all, Reilly was evidently really excited about whatever the hell she just found. On a good day—and the jury was out on whether this one would be—Stone was a steadfast member of the Reilly is adorable fan club. At the moment, he wanted to cover her head with the damn pillow.
For fuck’s sake.
“There better be coffee,” he grumbled, tossing off the blankets and sitting up. He dropped his feet to the floor and wiped the sleep from his eyes so he could glance at his watch.
“Seven fucking thirty. Seriously, Reilly?”
Pushing to his feet, Stone took a single step and tripped over his damn boots. He fell against the desk, knocking his hip on the corner.
“Fuuuuck!” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Nope. Uh-uh. Not how his day was gonna go.
Stone turned around, stepped over his boots, crawled back into bed, yanked the blankets up to his neck, and covered his head one more time. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He listened for a moment and heard … nothing.
Maybe she left.
He took another deep breath and continued to hear blessed silence.
“Good girl, Reilly,” he mumbled as his eyes closed. “Go to Mom’s … have some breakfast … let me…” He yawned and instantly drifted off.
A delighted squeal jolted him out of that lingering hazy bliss. He shot up, grabbed the pillow with both hands and twisted hard, clenching his teeth to keep from shouting.
Deep breath in through his nose, out through his mouth.
“Sleep’s overrated anyway,” he muttered as he got to his feet again. This time, he managed to remain upright, kicking his boots aside with a grunt and ignoring the tightness in his back.
This was not how he saw the first day of the rest of his life going. Considering he’d pulled into town at the ass-crack of dawn, he should still be asleep. That had been the plan. Sleep for a few hours, then unload the trailer he’d hauled up from Houston. Only as soon as he walked inside, he realized the latter would have to wait until he helped Reilly and Tate move their shit out. Now it looked like sleep was out of the question, too, which meant the only thing left to do was to start moving shit. At least then he’d be able to sleep in his own damn bed. King-sized. With a pillow top. And pillows that weren’t made of fucking air.
What grown man thought it was normal to sleep in a full-size bed? Yeah, Tate was smaller than the average man, but seriously? Stone’s damn feet had hung off the end. And that was when he laid on his side and bent his damn knees. Anyone over six feet needed a mattress at least as long as they were.
Tonight would be better. He’d have his bed set up and all his—
He was about to open the bedroom door when he realized he was naked.
Well, hell.
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. After he 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 that what-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. “Well that was 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.”
“Maybe if y’all’d started three weeks ago…”
They both looked at him as though they couldn’t fathom what that meant. Whatever. It was too damn early to debate this. Until he filled his tank with some high octane, he’d only go down swinging.
Stone shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind I slept in your bed.”
“Hope you changed the sheets,” Reilly said, mocking his tone.
Stone frowned.
Tate’s eyes widened, and he shook his head at Reilly, then looked his way. “Don’t listen to her. They’re clean.”
“So he says,” she drawled.
“Rye,” Tate admonished.
“What?” She’d certainly perfected that wide-eyed, innocent look. “You and D were gettin’ busy in that bed the last—”
“No!” Stone held up a hand. “No, no.” He shook his head and carried his coffee into the living room. “I don’t wanna hear about how anyone was gettin’ freaky in that bed with Donovan.”
“Oh, but they were,” Reilly said with far too much enthusiasm. “My noise-cancelin’ headphones couldn’t drown ’em out.”
Stone took a seat on the couch and glanced at Tate. The kid’s face was beet red. If he had to guess, Donovan thought that shit was adorable.
Never in his life would Stone have imagined his big brother settling down with Reilly’s best friend from childhood, yet that was exactly what they were doing. Not only were they shacking up together, they were getting married. Provided Tate accepted D’s proposal. According to Reilly, he would. One day. Probably.
Stone sipped his coffee and studied Tate. He would say yes eventually. Right?
His sleep-deprived brain decided that yes, Tate would get around to saying yes and walking down the aisle because, although Stone hadn’t been around much these past few years, something told him they were going to get their happily ever after. Donovan deserved it. They were an interesting pair, that was for damn sure.
Almost as interesting as Reilly and Brady. Stone never saw that one coming. Then again, he’d never thought of his sister as being old enough to settle down and get trapped in domesticated bliss.
“So, you think we could borrow your trailer?” Reilly asked, practically skipping into the living room.
“Sure,” he said, staring at her over his coffee mug. “Just as soon as you unload it.”
“What’s in there?”
“All my shit.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh was right.
“What do ya need it for?” he inquired, still sipping coffee.
“To move our stuff.”
“D’s not springin’ for movers?” Stone asked Tate.
“He offered. I declined.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Reilly said, hooking her hands on her hips. “Brady didn’t offer to move my stuff.”
“Probably figured you needed to earn your keep.” Stone gave her a mocking grin.
Reilly looked at him, her innocence shining brightly in her big green eyes. “No. I pretty much paid my dues last night when—”
“Nope!” Stone shouted, shooting to his feet. He sloshed coffee on his hand but ignored the sting from the heat. “Do not even think about finishin’ that sentence.”
Reilly giggled. “What? Will it offend your delicate sensibilities?”
“Yes,” he insisted, setting the coffee mug on the kitchen island and wiping his hand on his jeans. “Yes, it will.”
He heard them both laughing as he stomped toward the bedroom. It took him two minutes to pull on his belt and boots. Another minute to tuck his cell phone in his pocket and shrug on his coat.
When he returned, he found Tate and Reilly still laughing.
Stone pointed toward the door. “Out.”
“But—”
“Outside. You two pains in the ass are gonna help me unload that trailer. Then I’m gonna help you load it back up.”
“Really?” Reilly squealed with delight. “You’re the best.”
Stone rolled his eyes and grabbed the trailer key off the counter.
Three hours later, everything was unloaded from the trailer, and at least a quarter of Reilly’s furniture had been loaded into it.
Stone had been doing most of the work himself for a while since Reilly and Tate had made the excuse that they needed to pack the rest of their things. Somehow, they managed to avoid any actual work, choosing to wrap each individual item in enough bubble wrap to protect a small child. Then they ran into issues trying to fit everything into boxes meant more for shipping packages than packing houses. They looked like they were playing a complicated game of Tetris as they tried to get it to fit.
To put it simply, they weren’t making a dent, leaving Stone with barely enough room to move his own shit into the house.
To keep them motivated, he’d started piling their crap in corners. It was only fair, considering they’d promised they would be moved out before he moved in. Since Tate already confessed they’d planned to take care of it today—rather than three weeks ago when they learned that he was moving back—Stone didn’t feel bad about it.
Not that he needed their shit out of the barn. He didn’t have enough to fill the place. Mostly bedroom furniture. If they took the couch and the dining room table, he would be left to sit on bar stools. Unless they took those, too.
“Looks like I got here just in time.”
Stone glanced over his shoulder as he set down a box. Donovan walked into the house with a grin the size of Texas plastered on his face. Strangely, it grew even wider when he locked onto Tate, who was in the process of wrapping a fucking metal spatula in bubble wrap.
“Not if you planned to do the heavy liftin’,” Stone told his brother.
Donovan smirked. “Like I said, just in time.”
“I hope you brought pizza,” Reilly called from the bathroom, where she was probably wrapping toothpaste in bubble wrap.
“Nope, but I could run and get some,” Donovan offered, walking over to Tate.
Was it lunchtime already? He glanced at his watch. Damn. Almost eleven.
Stone stared with amusement as his brother tipped Tate’s chin with one finger and leaned down to kiss him. Tate kissed him back, his cheeks his own personal mood ring, turning pink to signify what he was feeling.
Stone cleared his throat, reminding them they weren’t alone.
“Is he gettin’ pizza?” Reilly shouted.
“Hold your horses,” Donovan said, glancing over at Stone. “You hungry?”
Stone wiped his dusty hands on his jeans and glanced at his watch. “I could eat.”
“You look like you could use a beer, too.”
“And a nap,” he admitted. “Not necessarily in that order.”
“Hey, Rye!” Donovan hollered.
Reilly stuck her head out of the bathroom. “Yeah?”
“Place the order. I’ll run and pick it up. I need about twenty minutes.”
“What for?” she asked.
“For you to mind your own damn business,” he called back.
“But I’m starvin’,” she whined, disappearing into the bathroom again.
“And I’m busy!”
Stone laughed. Not much had changed around here. “Somethin’ I can help with?”
Donovan grabbed one of the boxes with Tate’s name on it and stacked it on another. “Mom’s got a landscaper comin’ by. She asked me to meet with him.”
“Ain’t it a little cold to be worryin’ about plants?” Stone asked, following Donovan when he hefted the two boxes and carried them outside.
“Yeah. But he’s booked solid most of the year. She’s hopin’ to get on his calendar for March. This was the only time he had free to meet.”
It figured. Especially since their folks took a quick trip to Dallas to see Chelsea and Paul.
“What’re they lookin’ to do?” Stone asked.
Donovan nodded toward the house. “Walk with me.”
Because it gave him a break from moving furniture and boxes, Stone followed his brother toward the house. They reached the fence surrounding the backyard just as a white Dodge truck with a black and gold landscaper logo on the side pulled into the driveway.
“Perfect timin’,” Donovan said with a grin that seemed a little too gleeful in Stone’s opinion.
A few minutes later, he realized why.
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