Page 41 of Whiskey Chase
I followed him back to the kitchen and found the rest of my brothers—minus Jonah—sitting around his kitchen table.
“Well this isn’t good,” I said, pulling out a chair. Bowie had told me seven, and here I was on the dot, yet all my other brothers managed to beat me here? It meant only one thing. “What do you assholes want me to do?”
“Dad’s lawyer called,” Bowie began. He dropped a plate of pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles in front of me. There was a whipped cream smiley face on top.
This was going to be really bad.
“Someone needs to start going through his house,” Gibson blurted it.
“Awh, come on, guys. You’re going to dump this on me?” I hated them all a little bit at this moment, digging into my stupid smiley face pancakes.
I looked up, and they all had their fingers on their noses. “Yeah, yeah. Not it. I get it.”
“Look, Scar,” Bowie began. “If one of us went in there, we’d just start pitching things. We don’t have the sentimental feelings that you do. We’ll handle the hauling. But we need you to go through the house.”
“What are we doing with the house?” I asked.
My brothers looked at each other. “What do you want to do with the house?” Gibson asked.
“Wouldn’t hurt to keep it for another rental. It’s got more bedrooms than most other properties.”
“Needs some work,” Jameson pointed out.
“Needs a fucking exorcism,” Gibson muttered under his breath.
“Can we maybe just choke down our hate for one meal?” I suggested.
Bowie and Jameson shot Gibson stern looks.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“I can’t believe y’all are dumping this on me.” Just like they’d dumped Dad on me. Just like they’d expected me to handle everything. Maybe I’d just save us all some trouble and burn the damn house to the ground.
Bowie sat down next to me. “Scar, we know it’s not fair to ask this of you. But if you want it done right, this is the way to do it.”
“I’ll clean it out. You all do the hauling, selling, and storage. And then Gibs and I will split the flip work,” I decided. “But I want free labor from every one of you. This is gonna take time away from my business, so y’all better show up for me.”
“We will,” they promised vehemently.
I knew they would, but I was still pissed off and wishing they’d all grow a pair and just get over the grudges they held against our father. He was dead. He couldn’t do any more damage.
Business concluded, they all dove into the stack of smile-free hotcakes at the center of the table.
“So. You and Devlin?” Bowie began.
I poked him in the hand with my syrup-covered fork. “Uh-uh. From now on, we’re staying out of each other’s love lives unless Gibson has a head injury and gets back with Misty Lynn.”
“Come on, Scarlett,” Jameson said. “We’re just looking out for you.”
I shook my head. “I mean it, guys. I don’t need three—four now—overgrown buffoons overseeing my dating habits.”
“Devlin’s not horrible,” Gibson said, forking up a triple layer of hot cakes into his mouth.
“Seconded,” Jameson nodded.
“Well, there’s a ringing endorsement,” I said dryly.
“But he’s also not staying,” Bowie said. “He’s just passing through. Is that really someone we want Scarlett spending time with?”
