"Wait for me!" My twenty-five-year-old sister Willow screeches, darting out the front door and jumping into the passenger side of the truck.
I approach the driver's seat, yank open the door, and state, "You aren't coming. Get out."
She smirks. "Mom said to go with you. Ask me why."
"Don't care. Get out," I order again.
"Nope." Willow buckles her seat belt.
I groan and start the truck. "I'm tired of no one ever listening to me."
"Sorry," she chirps.
I ignore her for a few minutes, then ask, "Shouldn't you be running after a bull rider or something?"
She laughs. "Is that what you think I do all day? Run after them?"
I shrug and grin. "Yep."
"I'll have you know,theyline up to seeme. There's no running to do on my part." She beams at me.
"I'm sure they do," I reply with disdain.
Willow got her law degree and decided to become an agent for bull riders. She's always been obsessed with them. No matter how much my father, brothers, and I warned her to stay away from them, she never listened. Over the years, she's dated several local guys. Now, she's representing whatever rider she thinks has the talent to win, and the floodgates of rowdy, cocky men are open even wider.
In my eyes, it's a nightmare brewing. Several of her clients are past flings of hers. Whenever I watch them interact, it's clear Willow's moved on, but they still hold a sweet spot in their hearts for her. And I can't blame them.
Willow's beautiful, has a bubbly personality, and can run circles around most people. She's business oriented like Sebastian, and just as intelligent as him, if not more so, and she's fearless.
It's a recipe for drama, and I want nothing to do with it. At some point, her naive bubble is going to burst. She's going to have to deal with jealous men who thrive on testosterone and winning. And when it happens, my brothers and I will have a hard time not saying, "We told you so."
Willow leans closer, stating, "I hope you'll be nice to Phoebe. I heard you were nasty last time she was here."
"I wasn't nasty," I claim, although some guilt hits me.
It's not Phoebe's fault my family set her up to fail. They should know I can handle my sons on my own. But this is what happens when they stick their noses into my business. Innocent people, like Phoebe, get hurt.
"Not what I heard," Willow declares.
"Why are you here?" I ask again, annoyed she's butting into this situation.
She grins. "Someone has to be friends with this poor girl so she learns how to navigate around you. Mom said we'd get along really well too."
I snort. "You seem to be delusional, along with the rest of our family. Phoebe's only here for the week. Then she'll be on her way."
"Sure. Whatever you say, brother." Willow pats me on the shoulder.
I jerk away from her, wishing I wasn't annoyed.
We all have great sibling relationships. Even Evelyn, who intrudes way too much, I normally don't mind. So, on a typical day, Willow and I wouldn't have any issues.
But I'm tired of my family insisting on the boys having a nanny. This Phoebe woman isn't capable of keeping them on track anyway, and I doubt she'll be able to instill any sense of discipline in them.
I know my sons better than anyone, and they're going to run all over her. She'll soon regret ever accepting this position. Once she leaves, my family needs to accept that I'm the boys' father and I know what's best for them.
I pull into the airport and follow the signs for the tarmac. I park next to the jet, and the door opens. The staircase gets stabilized, and Phoebe appears at the top.
"She's gorgeous!" Willow exclaims.