Page 8 of Ride the Sky

I groan at the immediate ambush of brotherly commentary.

They boss. They bark. They worry. There’s nothing like older brothers.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, stepping over Mouse, Ford’s black cat, who’s sashaying her way through my legs. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

Being the youngest means you can get away with murder, but it also means you’re subject to ridicule and scorn.

“Since you’re here, got a beer with your name on it.” Charlie hefts a six-pack on top of the kitchen counter. “Told you he’d be late,” he says to Davis.

“Try next time,” Davis orders gruffly, muscling his way past me to clap me on the shoulder. Keena, his Belgian Malinois, trots beside him.

I exhale slowly and slump onto a stool at the kitchen island beside Charlie, resisting the urge to slam my head against it. I don’t have a favorite brother, but I do have one I try really hard not to piss off. And that’s Davis.

A beaming brunette—Dakota—rises red-faced from the oven. She sets a pan of lasagna on the stove, then shoves a bowl of cookies my way as she tells Davis, “Don’t scare him off. He’s finally here.”

“I live here,” I mutter, wondering why my family keeps acting like I’ve just returned from war.

Ford’s eyebrows lift as he cuts a look in my direction. “Barely.”

“You missed Squish’s birthday,” Davis says with a frown.

“And mine,” Ruby adds, floating into the kitchen with Duke in her arms. Duke, Davis and Dakota’s two-year-old tornado, squeals when he sees me.

Shit.

Ruby’s sweet admonishment stings. I know what I’ve been doing the last nine months. Staying away. Burying myself in work so I don’t have to face facts. Face my heart.

Flashing her a contrite smile, I settle for cracking open a beer instead of one of my brother’s big fat mouths. “Y’all gotta get a new hobby instead of harassing me.”

“Got one.” Ford turns fully toward me, the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face. Lainie, Davis and Dakota’s sleeping two-month-old, is cradled against his chest.

“No one take her from him on threat of your life.” Dakota waves a spatula. “He’s the official baby whisperer.”

Reese laughs, strutting across the room in her highest heels. “Bodes well for me.” She leans into Ford and presses a kiss to his mouth.

I smirk at the dopey expression on my brother’s face. Married for less than a month, they’re still lost somewhere in newlywed bliss. Never thought my broody, love-averse brother would get his shit rocked by the sassy country singer, but he did.

Reese ran to the ranch last year after her superstar life spiraled out of control. Ford was saddled with babysitting her, but over the course of a summer, she had him wrapped around her little finger. That’s not to say it’s been easy for Ford and Reese. Her manager, a complete fucking moron, kidnapped her, and needless to say, my brother lost his mind.

Now they live on a new piece of land a few miles away that doubles as Ford’s baseball camp.

I reach for a cookie and cram it into my mouth, hopeful that will stop the barrage of questions.

Duke shrieks, piercing everyone’s eardrums.

Ruby gasps. “Charlie, the cookies.”

“Fuck,” Charlie growls and dives for the platter. I watch in amusement as Charlie tries to hide the cookies, but seconds later, Duke comes thundering around the island. Blinded by the injustice, he latches on to Charlie’s leg and screams, “COOOOKIES!”

I laugh. “C, you are a grown-ass man trying to hide a bowl of cookies from a two-year-old.”

Davis runs a hand over his scalp. “He’s not allowed to have sweets after five.”

“What is he a gremlin?” I snag a cookie and pass it down to Duke. “Here, kid, go nuts.” Duke giggles and crams the entire thing into his mouth.

Davis sighs and scoops up his son. “Wyatt.”

Dakota drops her oven mitts on the counter and lifts a bottle of wine. “Let’s eat.”

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