Page 11 of Inviting Trouble
“Damn, they went all out for you,” Ethan said, taking in the decorations and the spread on the table.
His dad came in. “Hey, guys, come back to the kitchen. There’s way too much food for the coffee table.”
They gathered in there, where Alex already sat with Vivian. The little girl was in a high chair for her meal, half of which she tossed on the floor when her daddy wasn’t looking. A dog would really clean up around here. He joined in the shared stories, the teasing and joking, but some part of him kept listening for the front door. Where was Mad? What was taking her so long? Was she okay?
An hour later, they moved out of the kitchen, spilling into the living room, beers in hand. Someone turned on the TV to some off-season sports talk. His mind was stuck on Mad. How could she miss his homecoming party? Did it mean nothing that he was home for good? He kept careening from anger that she hadn’t bothered to show to primal heart-wrenching fear that something had kept her away. That she was hurt or dead. Like his baby sister. Dead and gone and not a damn thing he could do about it.
He was about to suck it up and text her when the front door sprang open. Mad. He nearly swayed with relief to see her all in one piece. He didn’t have to go nuts rescuing her from a too-high tree limb or from instigating a fight she couldn’t win or whatever the hell else predicament she got herself in.
She was exactly as he remembered, her petite body swimming in a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and black work boots. Except her hair was dyed red and mussed in a casual way. Last time it had been purple and short.
He set his beer down, about to cross to her for a hug, when she put her hands on her hips and took them all in. “Ta-dah! My grand entrance!” She frowned and muttered, “I need my jeans,” before stomping over to the stairs.
“Mad, are you drunk?” Josh asked.
“Park’s here,” Ty said.
Park crossed to the stairs, where she was already halfway up. “Hey, little bit.”
She whirled, her brown eyes flashing. “The virginity train left the station!”
He didn’t blink at the odd statement. She was clearly drunk and not making any sense. He’d get some coffee in her. “Tell me you didn’t drive yourself home.”
She lifted her chin. “I got a ride.”
“C’mere.”
“I need my jeans,” she insisted. He couldn’t read her. Her eyes said she was happy to see him, the rest of her seemed pissed off, or maybe she was just that drunk.
“I need a welcome-back hug.” He needed it more from her than any of his brothers. He needed to feel her whole, healthy, alive.
She rolled her eyes, muttered something that sounded likelittle twit, which also made no sense, and then made her way unsteadily down the stairs. She stood in front of him with a belligerent expression.
He wrapped her in a bear hug, kissed the top of her head and ruffled her hair. She scowled and quickly smoothed her hair, which still stuck out on one side. “Good to see ya, mini. Get your jeans and then we’re going to sober you up before you say something really stupid.”
“Mini?” she barked.
He smiled, remembering how she got huffy about the strangest things. You’d think she would’ve taken offense to him pointing out she was saying stupid-drunk things. “Sorry, I meant Mad.”
She whirled and headed upstairs. He let out a breath and joined his brothers. He was finally truly home.
Chapter Four
Mad trudged downstairs the next morning in her ratty old T-shirt and sweats, a little hungover, hoping she didn’t run into Park. He’d always been a morning person. And she was not. She had just enough headache to remind her what a dumbass she was, getting drunk before the party. She hardly ever got drunk. Some impression she must’ve made last night.
As she got closer to the kitchen, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee reached her. Her heart kicked up. Had to be Park. Her dad would still be sleeping, he was used to sleeping late after working the night shift as a security guard. He was retired, but still worked part-time for a little extra cash. All of her older brothers had places of their own now.
And then she saw him. Park leaning against the counter, steaming cup of coffee in hand. The slant of sunbeam through the kitchen window lit him in profile. Gorgeous as ever, even more so now that he was older. She’d clearly been fooling herself that the attraction would’ve died. She took a moment to appreciate the view of short dark hair, sharp cheekbones, square jaw with a couple days’ worth of stubble, sexy curve of his lips, and the easy grace of a man comfortable in his own skin.
She stepped into the kitchen.
“Morning,” he said. “Coffee?”
“Yes.”
He poured her a mug and gave it to her.
“Bless you,” she said. It was black, nothing added. Perfect. She sipped. “You doctored it just right.”
