“Who the hell was that?” he asked, finally voicing the question he’d asked himself a dozen times in the past three minutes.
“Kirk.”
“Kirk who?” he asked.
“Kirk I don’t know his last name,” she snapped back. “And not that I owe you an explanation but I just found out my parents hired him to cut the lawn while they’re away.”
“Oh, so he’s the lawn boy.” Corey heard the derision in his own tone but didn’t worry too much about it.
Josie shouldn’t be out here in this state of undress with whoever that guy was. And Kirk shouldn’t be snooping around the house this early in the morning anyway. He was being paid to mow the grass, not flirt with his boss’s daughter.
She folded her arms, which only raised her breasts higher until the top of the milky white globes popped out of the too low neckline of her tight little stretchy tank top.
“Do you want me to go inside and get ready or are we going to stand out here arguing about nothing?” Josie asked.
“Oh, I definitely want you to go inside and put on some clothes. Shouldn’t have been outside dressed like that anyway,” he grumbled.
“You’re not my father,” she parried, shooting him a glare over her shoulder.
That was good. Responding to her comment gave him something to concentrate on instead of her ass.
“You’re right. I’m not,” he agreed as he followed her inside. “But let’s see what your brother has to say about the situation.”
In the kitchen, Quinn glanced up from the cup of coffee he was pouring. “What about her brother?” he asked.
“You need to see how your sister is dressed as she’s running around outside with Kirk the lawn boy.” Corey indicated Josie’s lack of attire with the sweep of one hand.
“I wasn’t running around. I heard someone opening the garage door so I went outside to see who it was. This is what I slept in. It was hot last night. I’m perfectly covered. I wear this all the time. Tell him,” Josie looked to Quinn.
Cup raised to his lips, Quinn’s dark brows, so like Josie’s, rose. He lowered the cup again and said simply, “No comment.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Josie demanded. Corey wondered the same thing.
“It means I pick my battles and your… outfit is not a hill I’m willing to die on.” Quinn moved his gaze to Corey and raised one shoulder. “Sorry, man.” Then he hooked a thumb toward the counter. “Coffee?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I gotta wait for her to dress anyway, so we can go, uh, work on the event.”
Quinn didn’t seem to notice that Corey had momentarily searched for a reason why he and Josie were leaving the house this early. He couldn’t tell Quinn it was to go see surveillance footage to try and catch a thief.
Luckily, Quinn had food on his mind as he reached for a baking tray covered in pastries, saying, “If you have to wait for her to get ready, you have time for a cinnamon roll too. Take a seat.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Cory said, pulling out a kitchen chair from beneath the table he thought was the same one he’d sat at back in high school.
Coffee and pastry. And the company of an old teammate and fellow sailor. Even with the Josie and Kirk incident, it was turning into a pretty decent morning.
Corey had definitely had worse.
Chapter Twenty
“Oh. My. God. This su-u-ucks,” Josie moaned.
Corey let out a short breathy laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“Ugh. Yes, it is.” In complete and utter misery, she threw herself against the back of the chair.
Her brother no doubt would have accused her of being a drama queen had he been here. Luckily, he wasn’t and apparently Corey was only amused by her misery, judging by his soft snort of a laugh.
As she draped over the back of the metal folding chair, she felt the pull of stiff muscles from being in the same position, hunched over the desk, for way too long.