Page 7 of Ride the Sky

Fallon McGraw. One damn woman I don’t have time for anymore. Even if I know it’s another lie in a long list.

The two-way radio on its charger crackles.

“Wyatt. You around?”

Davis.

“Kid? Get your ass on the line.”

Ford now.Christ.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, dismissing all thoughts of Fallon to focus on equally important, equally annoying things. Like big brothers.

“Wyatt? You there?”

The pretty sing-song croon has me groaning. Reese.

“Goddamn,” I mutter. Now that everyone’s on the family channel, I never know a second of peace.

“Hey, Birdie Girl, fancy meetin’ you here.” Ford’s country drawl.

A sigh from Davis.

“Hey, Country Boy.”

I roll my eyes. Ford’s been married less than a month and is still acting like an idiot.

Unable to take their flirting for another minute, I storm the linoleum floor to snatch up the radio. “What do y’all want?”

“Dinner. Tonight,” Davis orders.

On a testy sigh, I glance at the bottle of vodka and the half-smoked joint. Both prospects look better than getting grilled by my big brothers.

I open my mouth. So many excuses on why I can’t make it form on the tip of my tongue. But if I put it off any longer, they’ll be here in a matter of minutes banging down my door.

It’s easier not to fight it. To get it over with.

“I’ll be there,” I growl.

“On time,” Davis snaps back pointedly.

“Bossy bastard,” I mutter and then shelve the tin coffee can. As I stomp for the door, I pause, running my hand across my rumpled sheets like I can almost feel her.

Trouble.

That’s what Fallon was.

All kinds of gorgeous, devastating trouble.

Hours later, sundown, I ride Pepita over to Davis and Dakota’s place in the Edens. After tying her to the old hitching post outside their gate, I let myself in the front door and stride down the hall to the kitchen, homebase for all our large family gatherings.

The second I enter, three pairs of eyes come up.

“You’re late.”

“You look like shit.”

“Where’ve you been?”

---