Page 66 of Really Truly Yours

He left-turns into a wide drive and enters a code at an elaborate stone and wrought-iron entrance with multicolored pansies embedded along the rock wall.

As the gate slides, my empty stomach twinges. The houses we pass are new, two-storied, and picturesque.

One manicured lawn follows the next. Oversized autumnal wreaths brighten nearly every beautiful front door. Solid, carved oak doors. Double doors with beveled glass and iron accents.

Lots of high-end professionals must live here—but I bet not many of them have fathers and brothers who are experts on the state prison system. So there.

Still, I’ve lived long enough to understand that just because a home looks idyllic does not mean the lives within are equally picturesque.

I sink down, fascinated and ready to be gone all at the same time. I finger a worn spot in the denim on my knee. It’s going to bust open any day now.

Gray turns into a driveway, pulling to the far left, parking in front of the farthest door of the three-bayed garage. The middle one is up, and I recognize the gleaming pickup inside as the vehicle Tripp drove the day he helped with Donny’s roof.

Gray puts his feet on the pavement. “You want to come in?”

Not a chance. “I’ll wait here.”

Tripp emerges from the garage. He’s wearing dark slacks and a pressed dress shirt. There’s a shiny badge clipped to his waist, and he has a leather holster, complete with firearm, slung over one shoulder. He gives Gray and the icky mess on his clothes an amused once-over, saying something I imagine in keeping with the sarcasm of an older brother. Gray talks for a minute, then Tripp speaks, gesturing toward the house. Both look my way.

Grayson opens my door. Tripp saunters along. “Hey, Sydnee.”

“Hello.” Oh, I wonder what disaster my hair is.

Arm across the door, Tripp ducks down. “My wife is in there making pancakes and bacon. You’re welcome to come inside and have some breakfast while this lug over here cleans up.”

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude.” It’s barely seven thirty.

He smiles and seems sincere. “No intrusion. Avery’s been up since before four and is looking for ways to keep busy. The baby’s not letting her rest much lately.”

“Thank you, but we’ll only be here a minute.”

He thumps the door as he unfolds to his full height. “Suit yourself. Nice seeing you again, Sydnee.”

I can’t imagine why. He slaps Grayson’s back and walks to his truck. With his clean haircut and professional attire covering all the tattoos, he doesn’t look scary at all. In fact, except for the gun, I’d say he fits the neighborhood well.

I, on the other hand, want to duck and hide.

Grayson waves at his brother as he backs out, and crouches at my door. “Please come in, Syd. I want you to meet Avery.”

Why? I search his pretty brown eyes. “I look awful.”

“You look fantastic.”

The way he says it, the look in his eyes—I almost believe him.

He puts out his hand, the one with the leather band on the wrist above. “Come on. Please?”

I throw off my seatbelt.

Regret is almost immediate as we walk through the garage that’s bigger than my whole house. But then there’s the warm hand on my back, evening things out.

My body has a mind of its own, longing to curl into him.

I scoot away. I refuse to be sucked in by absurdity.

He motions through a door and for me to lead the way down a short hallway toward a warmly-lit space. The aroma of breakfast floods my senses.

At the kitchen entrance, my confidence wavers. Gray’s fingers nip at my waist. “Go on.”

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