Page 34 of Wild For You

He nudges me with his elbow, almost knocking off my balance. “I know you haven’t had anyone over in ages.”

I narrow my eyes. “How would you know that? Maybe I’m seeing someone you don’t know about.”

“You’re not. Ryder’s been watching the house.” Catching my angry expression, Kellan shrugs. “What? We need to make sure you’re okay. For all we know, you could slip on the hardwood floor, bang your head against the kitchen counter and lie there, choking on your own blood.”

“That is a well planned-out scenario. Thank you for that. I bet you guys have been picturing it quite a few times,” I say, dryly. “Why don’t you add choking on an olive to your list of gory possibilities as to how I might meet my early demise?”

“Go on. Ridicule us all you want, but you’ve got to admit it is a very realistic scenario.”

“Absolutely…if I were an old lady with a dislodged hip and in dire need of a walking stick.” Breaking off, I shake my head. “Shit, Kellan. You always know how to make me feel better. You’re an asshole.”

The old lady bit is as unrealistic as it could get, but the dislodged hip part isn’t that far from the truth.

Dad can be annoying under the best of circumstances, but he would never go as far as watching my house. Whenever I think my brothers couldn’t get more in your face, trust Kellan and Ryder to come up with new ways to burst my bubble.

“That’s what brothers are for,” Kellan says. “You can pull that woe-is-me shit with Dad, but it’s not working on us. We both know you enjoy the attention.”

“As soon as I can walk, I’m going to punch you,” I growl.

“Sounds good. Let me book you a date for next year. How does February sound?”

I know he tries to piss me off. It’s my brother’s attempt to get me off my ass, make me work harder to get my old life back. While I appreciate the effort, I know it’s fruitless. My old life’s gone for good. But if I had been able to walk, I would have given him a black eye for all the comments he’s been cracking the past few months.

“Book me in for this year.” I give him the finger of my right hand, then the finger of my left hand. “I’ll do it even if I have to chase you around on crutches.”

I shuffle along the narrow path, freezing to the spot as I notice the commotion on my veranda.

“What the—”

Most of the Boyd clan’s here. I spy Kellan’s fiancée, Dad, Aunt Shannon, and a few of my cousins. No sight of my brother, Ryder. And at least no one invited the neighbors.

There’s no way I’ll be able to kick everyone’s ass out. They’ll just gang up on me, and I’ll draw the shorter straw.

“I didn’t realize there was going to be a public gathering in my house,” I hiss at my brother, realizing too late why he’s been grinning all this time. “I don’t think I invited any of you over.”

“Surprise.” Kellan shoots me another one of his stupid grins. “You know you don’t need to. It’s your birthday, so naturally, we’ll come anyway. That’s what family’s for.”

Yeah, to annoy the hell out of me.

“You’ll have to thank my fiancée for this awesome idea,” he continues.

I peer at Ava, my soon-to-be sister-in-law, and my bad mood lifts a little. She’s sitting on a lounger, her pregnant belly so huge I’m pretty sure that kid might just pop out any second, giving us all the fright of a lifetime. That would keep Kellan busy for a while and off my back.

Wincing at the pain shooting through my leg, I take in the scene before me.

Camping tables are being set up, chairs are being moved around, and the smell of fresh casseroles, gravy, and grilled stuff wafts over. Someone’s even hanging up lanterns, meaning the gang’s not about to leave anytime soon.

What the fuck!

As much as I want to shoo my family away, I can’t, because I know they’re doing this for me.

“I never asked for a fucking party,” I mumble to Kellan.

“In that case you should have answered the damn phone,” Kellan says. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Sorry for not calling in every night, Dad,” I say sarcastically. “I guess I was too busy drowning in self-pity.” My gaze roams over all the familiar faces. There’s no sign of Erin.

“Where is she?” I ask.

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