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“It’s great—we’ll have it tonight,” Harley says, rushing over to the stovetop to check on the spaghetti. “You’ll see.”
Now, Nolan turns to the man I’ve been shyly eyeing for the past minute or so. The one who is, unmistakably, his twin.
“You made it,” Nolan says, throwing his arms around him.
While they’re still hugging, he twists my way and, jerking his head towards his brother, says, “This is Landon. My twin. Some would even say my better half.”
“I didn’t notice,” I say.
They crack up and the dark-haired woman still sitting, says, “I like her.”
“Then you have good taste,” Nolan says as they draw apart. He gestures to her. “Sierra, meet Kyra.”
Kyra is short, dark-haired and pretty, and has a strong, firm handshake.
“Never screw Kyra over,” Nolan stage whispers, letting his eyebrows jump significantly. “She’s a lawyer. A damn good one.”
Kyra laughs good-humoredly. “You flatter me.”
Landon’s hand goes to the small of her back. “No—you’re the best in New York.”
It really is a bit galling how alike they look, Landon and Nolan. Same strong jawline, same light-colored straight hair, same hazel eyes.
“Spaghetti’s ready!” Harley announces with a flourish of the ladle.
“Already?” Nolan says, although he’s grinning. “But we just got here.”
“Shut up and eat my food,” Harley says, aiming the ladle at him like a sword.
We all laugh.
Chapter 17
Nolan
“She seems to be getting along well with everyone,” Landon says quietly after dinner.
All three women are in the den on the couches, cackling with their heads bent over our baby pictures, while Emerson and Greyson do the dishes.
The ladies can’t get over how fat Landon and I were as toddlers, how solemn Greyson was. And Emerson’s propensity for smearing his food all over his forehead has always been a crowd favorite.
“Of course,” I say in a faux-offended tone. “I only bring quality women into the Storm household.”
“All jokes aside,” he says, a bit quieter now. “You seem happy.”
I snort. “I’ve always been the happiest one in this family. The one with the best sense of humor, too.”
He snorts. “And so humble.”
“She does seem to get along with everyone,” I remark, frowning. I can’t seem to stop my gaze from sneaking over to the den to check on her protectively. “Not that I expected any different.”
“Looks like you might actually be settling down, brother,” Landon jokes.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I grumble.
His easy smile falls. “Why bring her here, then?”
“I can’t have my own reasons for doing things? Damn it, why do you all have to micro-analyze every other thing I do?”
I scowl at how much of a defensive idiot I sound. But hell, I was having fun here with Sierra, and then Landon has to make his comments and ruin it.
That’s what I like about being with Sierra. Everything seems easy, to not require much thought. It just works.
“Forget it,” I say. “I’m just nervy.”
“Clearly,” Landon says.
“How’s Emerson, anyway?” I ask.
“He’s seemed to enjoy staying with us the past few nights,” Landon says. “He and Madison actually get along pretty great. Those two can play Star Wars Monopoly for hours.”
“Great, but he knows that he can stay with me for however long he needs, right?” I add.
Landon’s eyebrows flatten in the way that I know means he’s hesitant. “I’m not sure that’s the best place for him right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You and Jax are big partiers,” Landon says flatly. “Whether it’s at clubs or house parties, you guys go hard. You really think that’s the best thing for Emerson to be around right now?”
“I did say that I’d slow down,” I growl, although he has a point.
I head for the bathroom without another word.
It shouldn’t matter, Landon as much as saying that I’m a bad influence, but it does. Lately, things have been confusing—with the business, Sierra, basically everything.
Normally, I’d just laugh off what he said, but now… Emerson almost died the other night. Jesus.
As I head back, I linger outside the main room and listen to the happy chatter inside. Sounds like my brothers have joined the girls, and they’re all chuckling at the photos of us as kids, how Mom liked to dress us up in these crazy matching retro raincoats and bathrobes. I can hear Sierra’s voice in there, as delighted and at ease as the others.
She really fits in.
Part of me wants to keep on standing here, or even just walk away. So I don’t have to do what I came here to do.
I still could.
I could turn around and walk out that door. I could keep on seeing Sierra how we have been, keep things how they are.
But I already ran the idea by her. There’s not much other choice at this point.
Sure, I can pay her out of pocket, even finance the renos like that too. But there’s only so much cash I have in my savings account. It won’t cover paying her and all the renos, and then where will I be?
