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Was Kady happy? She was crying, I could feel her body shaking.

“Hey,” I said, pulling back and putting my hands on her upper arms so I could meet her eyes. “Why are you crying?”

I wasn’t a crier and wasn’t overly emotional. Perhaps it was my nature, or perhaps it was because I’d learned to mute my emotions or I’d have been a total wreck.

She laughed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “If you can’t tell, I’m a girlie girl. This is what I do.”

I’d thought I was high-maintenance, my mother drilling pride in my appearance since I was old enough to tie my own shoes. But being a scientist, especially one in the oil and gas field, I knew how to get dirty, was used to wearing mud-soaked jeans and rubber boots. And now I stood before her in just a shirt and knee-highs. I’d never gotten conditioner in my hair in the shower and it was all flyaway tangles. I looked…well-fucked. Far from appropriate to have visitors.

But Kady? She was all pretty curls and hot pink toenail polish.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, sniffling and smiling. “God, I’ve been stuck in Montana with a bunch of men.”

“Sweetness, you weren’t complaining last night, stuck between two men,” one of them said.

Kady’s cheeks turned bright red as she rolled her eyes. She turned, held out her arm. “This is Cord and Riley. My men.”

“Ma’am,” the bigger one said, eyeing my attire but making no mention of it.

“It’s great to put a face with a whole bunch of paperwork,” the other one added with a smile. Riley Townsend. The lawyer.

“Let’s let them in the front door, Kitten,” Boone murmured from behind me.

I stepped back and Boone led them into the great room. Jamison shook the other men’s hands. He eyed me, then Kady. “Boone has a new camper. Have you seen it?”

“I heard about the ATV,” Cord said, rubbing his hands together.

Boone cocked his head. “I’ll show you both and give the ladies some time to get to know each other.”

He winked, then led the men through the kitchen and into the garage. When the door slammed shut, Kady spun to me, took my hands.

“Talk.”

I frowned. “About what specifically?” We had our whole lives to catch up on. Where was I to start?

“About why you’re wearing a man’s flannel shirt and not much else. Why you’re here with Boone and Jamison. And don’t tell me you guys played Scrabble.”

“Is it that obvious I’m not wearing a bra?”

She shook her head. “Only because I’ve got big boobs, too. I’m in the club.”

“I better get dressed,” I said, turning toward the bedroom.

“I’m coming with you.” She tagged along right behind me.

I found my clothes neatly folded on an overstuffed chair beneath the large window. The bed had been made. There were no signs of any kind of sexy times whatsoever, bless Boone’s OCD heart. It made the pseudo walk-of-shame a little easier.

“What’s this about Scrabble?”

She laughed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Jamison and I played Scrabble one night. He’s ruthless. Fair warning.”

“Huh.” I thought of him playing the board game. It seemed I had much to learn about him. About both of my men.

“By the way you’re blushing, I’d say no Scrabble. I want details,” she said, sitting down on the corner of the bed.

“Don’t you want to know about my middle school years or when I got my ears pierced?” I countered.

She shrugged. “Later. I want the juicy stuff first.”

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