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Cain’s eyebrows rose. “You’re really going to go there? Jake will have you by the balls if you screw with that woman.”
“Don’t worry about my balls.”
Cain shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He opened the driver’s door. “I don’t have her on speed dial or anything, but she’s renting Raine’s cottage.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Cain stared at him for a few seconds. “Doesn’t she have something going with on with Blair Hubber?”
“Not anymore.”
“Shit,” Cain murmured. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Michael ran to the truck, and Mac took a step back as Cain maneuvered the large SUV out of the small driveway. With a wave, the rocker pulled onto the street and disappeared from view.
“Who’s Lily?” his sister asked.
“A friend of Jake’s,” he answered absently, his eyes still on the road.
“Sounds like she could be trouble if you ask me.”
He moved past his sister toward the fence and grinned, glancing back at her just before inserting his earbuds.
“I sure as hell hope so.”
Chapter 11
Monday morning came way too early for Lily. God, it felt as if she had just gone to bed and already sunlight was poking through her window and hitting her square on the face.
With a groan, she rolled over, slid out from beneath the duvet, and stepped on something furry.
She let out a shriek just as a yelp split the air.
And then nearly landed on her ass.
“What the—?”
Large, brown eyes looked up at her, and a long, fluffy tail thumped the floor excitedly. Oh. Right. She was dog-sitting for Raine.
Raine had brought her golden lab, Gibson, over the night before because she was heading out of town for a few days, shopping with her girlfriend Maggie. With Jake busy at the development across the lake, Raine didn’t want to leave the dog alone, because the last time they’d done that, the dog had eaten several pairs of shoes as well as Jake’s favorite football.
“Come on, Gib
son. I’ll let you out.”
With a yawn, Lily glanced at the clock on the table beside her bed, surprised to note that it was later than she thought. She was usually up at seven, but it was half past.
Padding on bare feet, she moved through the silent house, stretching her arms over her head in an effort to get the blood moving. She opened the front door, let the dog out, and then headed into the kitchen, coffee the only thing on her mind.
She grabbed the can and measured out enough grinds for two cups before adding the water and turning the machine on. After grabbing a cup from the cupboard, she reached for the sugar and then headed to the fridge for the—Crap.
With a groan, she stared into fridge. Into the fridge that had no cream.
Her fingers rested on the milk container, but she made a face because milk and coffee just didn’t make sense. She needed two generous scoops of sugar and a healthy dose of cream—and not that diet cream either. Hell no, she wanted ten percent not five.
Slamming the door shut, she glared at the coffee machine as it brewed a pot she would never use.
Gibson barked.
