Page 5 of Defending What is Mine

Chapter Three

Jack:Then—Last August

Pacing back and forth in Hank’s kitchen, I pull out my phone to check the time and shake my head in frustration. “Hank!? You said we’d be on the road by noon.” It’s not like I’m surprised. Dealing with my brother—this brother in particular—has always been akin to dealing with a child.

Hank casually strolls into the kitchen, rubbing his chin and sporting a perplexed look on his face. “I thought you were all…you know, Mr. Army, or whatever? Like HOO-AH and all that?”

I’ll regret it—I know that much for a fact—but I take the bait anyway. “Yeah. I suppose that’s fair. But what’s that got to do with us running behind?”

Hank grins. “Well, shouldn’t you have said…I don’t know, like…twelve hundred o’clock, or something?”

My head falls. “Good God. If you weren’t adopted, then Mom must’ve dropped you on your head as a baby.” I raise my hands while I emphasize the point. “Repeatedly.”

“Oh yeah…almost forgot,” Hank says, before punching me in the arm and smiling proudly for it. “I’m the older brother in this situation, not one of your damn grunts. So, quit trying to boss me around. Just…chillax, Bro. The cabin isn’t going anywhere.”

Falling back on old habits, I slip behind him and snake my arm under his, intending to put him in a half-nelson and force him to the ground, or to apologize. Either will do.

A soft giggle comes from the doorway, distracting us both from our melee. I look up to find Mollie, Sam, and Vanessa all standing in a line, seemingly perplexed by the sight of two grown men behaving like children. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’re packed and ready.” Mollie smiles.

“Yeah. You know, whenever you boys are through,” Sam says with a hint of giggle still in her voice.

I let go of Hank’s arm and step away from him while I run a hand through my hair. “Would it help things at all if I told you he started it?”

Sam glances to Mollie and both women exchange a knowing smile before looking back and answering in unison. “Sure.”

“Why in God’s name did I agree to spend the weekend with you?” I mutter to myself.

Almost certainly because he knows it’s a rhetorical question, Hanks answers, “Because you love my company.” I start to speak but he raises his index finger to my mouth, shushing me as he continues. “And…because you know if you stick around, Chet and Gabe will end up guilting you into working on the ranch all weekend.”

I rub my stomach. “Ugh. I think I might be coming down with something. Maybe I should just stay here and keep an eye on your place while you’re gone.”

Hearing that, Vanessa walks over and takes my hand, then looks up at me and asks, “Is there something you could take for your belly? I think we’re going to have lots of fun at your cabin, and I’d hate for you to miss it.”

Her words make me feel guilty for trying to back out at the last minute. I look to her mother and aunt and exhale a sigh of surrender. “Alright, I’ll come. But only if you two”—I gesture at Mollie and Samantha—“promise not to leave us alone together. Or else you can only expect more of these shenanigans.” I fold my arms across my chest and smile. “Something I will not be held responsible for, so consider yourselves warned.”

Vanessa runs back to Sam, excited that she’s saved the day. Sam smiles at her daughter then raises her hand with the first three fingers extended. “If, at any point in the trip I see the two of you alone together, I will come and stand in between to ensure you remain physically separated. Scout’s honor.”

From behind me, and in his typical, late-to-the-party, completely-missed-the-point way Hank rejoins the conversation, “You were a Scout?”

Sam chuckles as she turns to Mollie. “Well, not in the traditional sense. Though, we’ve invested in enough Thin Mints to qualify for honorary membership.”

Appreciating Sam’s cookie choice almost as much as her quick wit—but not as much as I appreciate the way she wears those jeans, I mean damn—I look to Hank. “Alright then driver, can we get on the road already? We’re wasting daylight.”

Hank swats his hands at my words and rolls his eyes. “Keep telling me what to do, little brother. I might accidentally leave you at a gas station on the way.”

The drive up to the cabin is uneventful, aside from being crammed in the backseat of a pickup for hours on end with a woman I can’t stop thinking about and a child strapped in a booster seat. Meanwhile, Hank and Mollie happily hold hands and chat away up front while Sam, Vanessa, and I fight it out for elbow room back in economy class.

In truth, even with the tight fit, I appreciate the six-year-old spacer separating me from her mother. More than once over the past few days I’ve caught myself, not just looking at Sam but out and out staring at her. It’s as if I lose all sense of time and space whenever she’s near. Like my brain is trying to nail down what it is that makes her stand out the way she does.

After so many excuses, coupled with countless stealthy glances (e.g. pretending to look past her so I can see out the window) I accept that I’m addicted. There’s something about this woman that I can’t get enough of. Like the way her cheekbones taper to her jaw, or the way her hair tends to fall naturally over her left shoulder. And don’t get me started on the way she bats those seductively long eyelashes when she smiles. All of it blends perfectly into that every-day-exotic meets girl-next-door look that is so distinctly hers.

Yep, she’s the kind of woman who, while you can’t quite name what it was that caught your fancy, you can’t let go of, either. Deep down I recognize it for what it is, I’ve gone and developed a serious crush. Which couldn’t be more ridiculous, considering I’m due to board a plane and leave the country in less than two weeks.

We arrive at the cabin a little after five p.m. Given it’s the first time this summer anyone’s been up here, it takes a little time to get things sorted. The refrigerator needs to be plugged in and allowed to cool down. The water has to be turned on and the air let out of the pipes. And given this godawful August heat, every window in the place needs to be opened and the fans cranked up to clear out the musty smell and start a breeze flowing.

Still, by the time the steaks come off the grill and everyone gathers around the table to eat, the place feels as much like home as any other.

Alright big brother, maybe coming up here with you for the weekend wasn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.

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