Jorlan grinned. “Remind me never to make you angry.”
“But why? I’m just a sweet, innocent girl.” She batted her lashes and he laughed.
They walked hand in hand to the porch. The front doors were oak and had elongated silver handles in the shape of the number eight. Music blared from speakers, fast-paced and raucous without a noticeable rhythm. Not bothering to ring the bell, since no one would hear her anyway, she led Jorlan through the house. From the floral print ottoman to the cream-colored lace curtains, every decoration remained positioned exactly how her mother had liked them.
Everyone congregated in the backyard to play basketball. Even her dad had donned shorts and a bandana for the festive occasion.
The dark blue bandana wrapped around his head, making him look like a slightly older version of her brothers instead of an aging heart-attack patient in waiting. Sunlight streamed down, hot and dry; unfortunately, no breeze meandered by to cool them off. Weeds dominated the yard, the roses and azaleas that had once lined the fence withered.
“Katie,” her dad called when he saw her.
As one, her brothers halted in different stages of play to glance over at her.
Nick raced to the patio table to turn down the music.
Her dad hesitated a moment, before striding over, his long legs closing the distance quickly. He tentatively kissed her cheek. “Hi. Hello. It’s nice to see you, Katie. How have you been, girl?”
Just peachy. I’m sleeping with an alien and a curse hangs over our heads. “Can’t complain.” The circumstances might suck, but she’d gotten a prize out of the deal, so, win. And how odd was it to see and speak with her dad after all this time?
“Good, good.” His golden-brown eyes lit on Jorlan and narrowed. “You brought a friend?”
Heart racing, she said, “Dad, this is Jorlan en Sarr. Jorlan, this is Ryan James, my father.”
The two shook hands. “I’ve heard about you,” Dad said, and judging by his tone, the information hadn’t been good. “You may call me Detective James.”
“Dad, you’re no longer on the force,” she reminded him. Not that a reminder would do any good. He made everyone call him detective, even his sons.
“Doesn’t matter.” He wiped his sweaty cheek with the back of his wrist. “I earned the title and deserve the respect that comes with it. Boys, say hello to our guest so we can finish our game.”
Jorlan had been officially dismissed.
Yikes. It was safe to say things were not off to a good start.
None of her brothers had expected her arrival, obviously, because they now stood in a row, shoulder to shoulder, staring at her, as if uncertain how they would be received by her. Also, they wore equal expressions of guilt and shame. Well, except for Nick, who grinned as if he was having the time of his life.
“Hey, Jorlan,” Erik finally said, deciding to ignore her altogether, the jerk.
“Hey,” the others called. Gray even gave Jorlan a stiff nod. Sweet progress.
Here’s praying everyone walks away from this.
* * *
“GOOD DAWNING TO YOU,” Jorlan responded to Katie’s brothers.
Gray extended his middle finger.
“Thank you for admitting you are my number one supporter,” Jorlan told him, earning a chuckle from Katie, and a growl from Gray.
Gray was the most like Katie, Jorlan decided. Which might be the reason he liked Gray the best. The man had a way of making his presence known, no matter the situation. A fine skill for any warrior to possess. Plus, Gray had the bearing of a soldier, and the weariness of someone who’d been forced to kill. But his best quality? He loved Katie and recognized her worth. Every time he glanced at his sister, the hard lines around his eyes and mouth softened, ruining his “I’m about to kill you” vibe.
His best quality, aye, but also a pathetic one. What? Jorlan believed in being honest always. Couldn’t the man remain outwardly unaffected while dealing with the opposite sex?
Katie chose that moment to glance at Jorlan. A half smile bloomed, warm and intimate and only for him. He knew those lips felt like heated satin against his skin and tasted like the sweetest gartina petal.
An-n-nd Jorlan lost his warrior vibe.
I’m worse than Gray, and happier for it.
While the James men were hard and golden, Katie was soft and fair. Each male could easily pass for an Imperian warrior. Katie, though, would not blend with Imperian men or women. She was too opinionated, too commanding. Too reactive. If he introduced her to his comrades, they would surely string him up for fear such a spitfire would embolden their women. But ah, what fun he and Katie would have!
“Are you having fun yet?” Katie whispered.
“I am,” he replied, whispering, too. “Knowing your brothers will soon be drenched with your stinking concoction has put me in a very forgiving mood.”
Another smile bloomed, this one full wattage. Then she faced her siblings. “Well.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you going to greet me or not?”
In a snap, they rushed over, enfolding her in one sweaty embrace after another until she laughed and cried, “Enough.”
“Glad you came,” Gray told her before kissing her cheek.
“Don’t smother the girl,” her father barked. “No wonder she lives alone and refuses to marry a decent man. You’ve taught her to expect the worst. Also, you smell like a locker room!”
“Now, now. Don’t go getting worked up about my unofficial singleness.” Katie wagged a finger in the direction of his chest. “It’s not good for your bum ticker.”
“Well,” the detective blustered.
“Besides,” she said, fluffing her hair, “the James brothers can’t help themselves. I’m irresistible.”
“That you are,” Jorlan whispered, then he nipped her earlobe.
In the sudden silence, everyone overheard his proclamation. Gray rolled his eyes and Nick chuckled.
Her father watched them with something akin to irritation. “Who’s ready to finish the game?” He collected the ball from the ground. “Katie, go sit by Denver. He brought a friend, too. You gals can cheer for me. Jorland, why don’t you be on Nick’s team?”
“It’s Jorlan, without a d,” Katie told him. “Pronounced Jore-lane.”
For the first time, Jorlan noticed the lone woman perched beneath a bright yellow umbrella. Dark brown hair spilled around her shoulders. She wore a strappy dress made of light blue fabric, and seemed unaffected by the crackling heat.
“Jorlan doesn’t know how to play basketball.” Katie swiped her sweat-beaded brow with the back of her hand.
“What red-blooded American doesn’t know how to play basketball?” her father roared.
“He’s not American.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s red-blooded, isn’t he?”
“Um….” Katie peered at Jorlan with wide eyes.
“He is,” Jorlan said. “And he knows the game. Over the spans I have observed many such events. I am happy to play, as long as Katie plays, as well.”
“No way. She could get hurt.” This was, of course, said by her father.
Anger sparked. How dare anyone exclude her from anything!
He expected fury from her. She shocked him, simply arching a brow and deadpanning, “I’m your sixth son, Detective Dad. I can take anything you dish.”