“We’re not fifteen,” I say.
“Adam,” my dad scolds.
“Sorry. I just mean, we know all the risks and we’re not delusional enough to think it’s all going to be easy, but it’s important to us. Fostering is our way of helping children who may have lost hope. If we can help them, even for the interim while their parents get their shit together, that’s worth doing. If we’re blessed to be able to adopt them at some point, wonderful. And the fertility thing is something we need to start while Lucy is younger. But we’ll be happy and okay as a couple regardless of what happens. We just have a lot of love to give and a home that we’d like to fill with more love.”
Lucy raises on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Couldn’t have said it better.”
Dad nods, and he and Marla share a look. “Sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“We do,” I assure them both.
“Then congratulations. We wish you luck, and if you need anything, let us know.” Marla hugs us both, my dad joining her.
“Pretty soon we’re going to have to put an addition on the house,” Dad mumbles.
Marla obviously couldn’t be happier. Nikki’s growing bigger every day, Jed returned home from Minnesota with Emilia, his daughter, last week, and now this.
“We can only hope.” Marla smiles at us and winks.
“Mom!” Rylan screams and we hear footsteps bang down the stairs. He runs into the kitchen. “Did you invite her?”
Marla looks stunned.
“Hey, Ry guy,” I say.
He holds up his hand. “Did you?” He’s glaring at Marla.
“What are you talking about?” Marla asks.
“Why is Calista Bailey in our driveway?” He says it like an accusation.
My mouth opens, but Lucy covers it with her hand. Today just got a whole lot more interesting.
I park behind some fancy sports car in my dad and Marla’s driveway. I have no idea who it belongs to. My assumption is the guy standing with his back to me, talking to Logan. Probably one of Nikki’s podcast guests who knows Logan or something.
Posey and Presley are out in the yard with Bernie, who’s pulling the leash so hard, sniffing from bush to bush, it looks as if he’s going to pull Presley’s arm out of her socket. I grin when I see Posey casually checking out the guy talking to Logan.
I exit my small SUV and I’ll admit he’s got an ass on him, but he’s too thin for my liking. Don’t get me wrong, the guy isn’t a beanpole, he has lean muscle like a runner, but I prefer guys who bulk up in the gym. The kind who can lift me with ease and put me in whatever position they want.
Just don’t tell Hank or my brothers that last bit. They like to think of me as little ol’ Chevelle, their innocent younger sister.
A truck roars up the driveway behind me and I don’t have to turn around to know exactly who it is. My sixth brother, Cameron Baker. Did you catch that last name? Yeah, it’s not Greene, although the man acts like an overbearing big brother and seems to think he’s somehow responsible for my safety.
The door of his fancy truck slams shut.
Cameron’s family is the richest in Sunrise Bay and he’s an only child, which means the fortune and responsibility of the fishing piers will be his one day. Which also means that if I continue running my tourist boating company, I could end up kind of working for him. And that only aggravates me, so I head over to Posey to dodge having to talk to Cam.
“Chevelle, we have something to discuss,” Cam says from behind me.
“Later,” I say and put up my hand, not even bothering to steal a glance.
The other problem with Cameron Baker, besides him trying to act like my dad? He’s exactly the type of guy who gets my lady parts buzzing. He’s built, with just enough tattoos to make him sexy but not so much that it covers all his ripped muscles. He’s got scruff that I imagine would feel glorious between my thighs, though I try not to think about it. Over the years, he’s gone from scrawny to all man. I’m only human, of course I notice.
I’ve done my own changing over the years, and he’s definitely taken notice, but expresses that by ordering me to cover up every inch of my body. Not gonna happen.
Although our attraction to one another is obvious to the two of us, even if we’ve never talked about it, my brother Fisher is his best friend. Hell, none of my brothers would be keen on Cam stepping over that line with me. Cam would never do it anyway. Like I said, I’m treated like fragile little ol’ Chevelle who needs a fainting couch.
“Hey, girls, who you glaring at? Cam? I know. He’s not a Greene, why is he here?” I ask when I reach them, then I notice Posey’s Band-Aids and scrapes. “Pose! What happened?”
She touches her face, but her gaze is still glued to the mystery guy.
“BERNIE!” Presley yells and runs after the dog as he takes off.
Cade comes running from behind the house, having heard his wife’s shout. That dog is going to have to get his head on straight before Cade ships him off to some doggie military school. I watch the two of them sprint toward downtown Sunrise Bay.
My dad’s house is the Greene family home, and it was passed down from my grandma Ethel. It sits high on the hill overlooking downtown, and if you didn’t know better, you might think we’re fishing out hundred dollar bills from our pockets like the Bakers, but we’re not rich. We do all right, all of us work hard for our money, but we don’t have Baker money. My grandfather was just good with his hands, wood, and nails.
“Can you believe that asshole ran me off the road?” Posey seethes quietly.
I glance over to see Cam has joined Logan and the other guy whose face I still can’t see.
“I think we should put rules in place,” I say. “You can’t come unless your birth certificate says Greene.”
“Or a marriage license,” she adds.
“True. So what happened?”
I pull my gaze away from Cam’s back. The stretch of his T-shirt—which will soon end up on a lounge chair in the back—over his back muscles sends a rush of heat between my legs. God help me, I need to get laid soon.
“I rode my bike over, but I didn’t come from the house. I had to go to Fringe earlier because I promised I’d do Zoe’s hair this morning. She’s heading to Vegas with Craig for the weekend. Anyway, I’m coming down the road on my bike and that asshole swerved and would’ve hit me if I hadn’t moved out of the way. My tire slipped and I ended up in the ditch. He didn’t stop, just kept going. Self-centered asshole.”
I love Posey. She’s younger than me by two years, which took off the heat of being the youngest after our parents married. My brothers still see me as the messed up little girl who blames herself for causing her mother’s death.
I squint when the guy in question shifts his stance so that I can now see his profile. “You know who that is, right?”
“Oh, I do. Gavin fucking Price.”
There’s something in her tone. Posey’s always been free-spirited—even more than me, which is saying something—but she doesn’t hold grudges or dislike anyone. She’s sweet and kind and good-natured, but I can’t help but feel like there’s something underlying this hatred.