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A few moments ticked by and then Beau grabbed up his longneck and tore at the edge of the label.

“It’s got to be hard for you.”

Tucker’s chest tightened, but he kept his eyes on Beau as he continued.

“Coming back here, I mean. You and Marley…you guys spent most of your time together in the Keys.”

Tucker didn’t answer Beau right away. He nodded at the bartender and motioned for two more drinks. Once they were served, he shoved a hand into the front pocket of his navy slacks and tried to relax his shoulders, but it was no use. He was strung tight and loosened his tie a bit.

“I had to come back at some point, right?”

He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. Instead he tipped the bottle against his mouth and drank damn near the entire thing.

“Yeah,” Beau said softly. “I guess you did.”

All around them, groups had gathered. Family members who hadn’t seen each other in months or years even, hugged and chatted. It was an animated bunch. A crazy, eclectic, loud bunch that Tucker called family, and he realized that he had missed them. Hell, even eccentric Aunt Virginia.

The Simons were his blood, and he’d been away for far too long.

“There’s my boys.”

Tucker barely had time to turn around before he was enveloped in a bear hug from a man who still had at least an inch or so on his sons.

Noah Simon was a force of nature who took no prisoners.

He was as at ease in the boardroom as he was in the swamps hunting gators. A southern boy through and through, he’d been raised right by a woman who’d done it on her own after his father was killed in the Korean War. He was the kind of man who believed that the power of discipline only worked when it was dealt with a gentle hand. And he was also a man who believed in dealing swiftly with those who crossed him—he wasn’t someone you’d want as an enemy.

After embracing both his boys, Noah stepped back, his piercing eyes as blue as ever.

“Tuck, you better get your shit together because your mama isn’t exactly happy with you, and you’ve got about two minutes before she makes her way over here.”

And his forthright manner was pretty much the same too.

“I know,” Tucker replied a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been meaning to call. I’ve just been…busy.”

“Busy,” Noah said carefully, his eyes moving to the bartender. “I’ll have a scotch, neat.” He returned his gaze to his sons.

“She worries about you, Tucker. I know you’re a grown man and life gets in the way, but you need to check in from time to time. Your mother gets antsy when she doesn’t hear from you and when your mama isn’t happy, well…”

His father didn’t have time to say anything else because Cooper had somehow managed to extricate himself from Aunt Virginia’s clutches, and he and Rick joined them at the bar.

Cooper shook Noah’s hand and then clapped Beau on the shoulder before turning to Tucker. He paused for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what to say and then offered his hand. “Damn good to see you, Tuck. It’s been a while.”

Tucker shook his cousin’s hand, and in spite of himself, felt a gentle tug inside. They’d been so close once. And even though the aftermath of Marley’s death had put something between them all—most of his cousins didn’t know what to do or say—Tucker took some of the blame. He hadn’t made things easy for any of them either.

“I hear things are going well for you in New York.”

“Things are good,” Tucker replied.

“Rick told me you just sign

ed Dean Kendrick as a client. I gotta say, that’s pretty damn impressive.”

“Kendrick?” Beau said, as his father echoed the name. “When did this happen?”

One thing about the Simons, every single one of them were sports junkies—it didn’t matter whether it was baseball, hockey, basketball, or football. Take your pick. If there was a sports team involved, the Simons were invested. Some would say fanatical.

Beau had been a starting pitcher for the Yanks before an injury ended his career and a chance encounter with a director set him on a path toward Hollywood and superstardom. If not for that, he’d still be playing the game.

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