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“At least in my case it’s temporary. You always look like shit,” Sam countered. The banter with the guy, who was essentially his best friend, felt familiar, and they both grinned again.
“Fuck off,” Mason said without heat, reaching into the cooler behind Sam and helping himself to a beer. “How you doing, bro?”
“Been better,” Sam admitted. “But it’s not as bad as it was.”
“You settled in at the cabin?”
“Yeah, thanks for that. Are you sure you’re okay with me staying there? I can stay at Daisy’s place until after you leave again.”
“Nah. It’s cool. Daisy and I will only be using that place as a base. We’ll probably spend most of our time at Spencer’s or the in-laws’.” Mason’s eyes roamed over the assembled group, continuously circling back to Daisy. “Fuck, it’s good to be back home. I didn’t even know how much I missed everyone until we walked through that door.”
“You have a great family, mate,” Sam said and was shocked to hear that previous envy creep into his voice.
“They are pretty fucking fantastic. And I see they’ve welcomed you into the fold.”
“Temporarily.”
“This family doesn’t do temporary.”
“But I do,” Sam reminded, and Mason grimaced at him.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he said, taking a sip from his beer. His eyes were back on Daisy and then fell to his brother, who was teasing their young sister, Charlie, about something. Mason’s face lit up. “’Scuse me for a second. Spence might need backup.”
Sam nodded and watched as Mason waded into whatever was going on between Spencer and their teenage half sister. The girl, with her almond-shaped emerald eyes, flawless brown skin, and thick black curls was exotically pretty but still bore a striking resemblance to her brothers. Mason tucked an arm around her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She laughed and squealed at the indignity of it all, trying to maintain her adolescent cool while giggling like a child.
“It’s hard to believe she’s been in their lives for less than a year, isn’t it?” Lia said, and Sam glanced down at her, unsurprised that she’d finally, inevitably, made her way to his side.
“Hello there, Miss Priss,” he greeted softly, his eyes taking in her cap-sleeved, knee-length, sky-blue dress with the high neck and slightly flared skirt. “You’re looking very pretty and proper this evening, and you know what that does to my blood pressure.”
She kept her eyes straight ahead, but he could see her breathing change while a hectic flush bled into her skin.
“Maybe we should retreat to the barn?” he suggested wickedly. “I have very fond memories of that barn. We could do a reenactment. What do you say?”
“Be good. This isn’t appropriate behavior for this setting,” she said firmly, and he groaned.
“I love it when you speak etiquette to me, sunshine. It’s like you want me to take you to a dark spot around the corner, pin you to the wall, and have my nasty way with you.” She didn’t say anything, just turned her head and looked at him, and Sam bit back a groan at the expression in her eyes. So much mute longing, heat, and lust. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was much too fast. She licked her lips, ran her eyes over his face, down his throat, then his chest until they dipped to his crotch. And stayed there. He felt her gaze like a touch and, embarrassingly, despite the crowd all around them, felt himself harden like a teenage boy.
Shit! His silly little game had backfired severely, because he suddenly found himself on the receiving end of an unspoken sensual assault.
“Later,” she promised, her voice low and throaty and meant only for his ears.
Sam groaned and willed his erection away as she walked away from him without a backward glance.
Lia was happy to spend time with Daisy and Mason again. She had missed her baby sister fiercely, but part of her couldn’t wait for the braai to end so that she could collect on the promise she’d been seeing in Brand’s eyes all evening. How could she still want him so desperately after last night and this afternoon? It was like a dull ache that faded but never truly went away. And every time she looked at him and met those smoldering eyes, the ache intensified sharply.
Her dad was the self-proclaimed braaimaster for the evening, and even though Spencer and Mason constantly tried to take over the grill, he kept them at bay with sharp, humorous reprimands.
“My house, my braai. You youngsters think you know everything. Stand aside and watch a true master at work.” He ignored the good-natured heckles from the younger men, talking his way through his barbecuing process as if he were tutoring children.
Meanwhile, the women were sitting around the patio table, catching up and fussing over Charlie, who pretended to struggle out of affectionate hugs even while everyone could see she loved the attention. It was a lovely evening and every effort was made to include Brand, even though he held himself slightly apart.
