Page 4 of A Photo Finish
I cross my arms over my chest, the only armor I have these days. “Admit what?”
“You missed me.” His cocky grin makes me want to lay him out and remind him who’s stronger. Instead, I just glare at him—my default expression.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You missed Billie.”
This time, I groan and look up at the ceiling.I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. Working in the spare office down the hall will befine.
“You’re right. That’s not it . . . Oh! I know. . .” From the corner of my eye I can see him lean forward on his elbows and steeple his hands in front of his mouth. “You missed Violet.”
Suddenly, the sound of my heart beats loud, like an overbearing drum pounding in my ears. It thumps through my entire body.Why the fuck would he guess that?
Years of military training mean I can look like I’m not reacting when I am. Which is why I stare back at him and deadpan, “Who?”
His intelligent gaze scans my face, amusement dancing in those eyes that remind me so much of our dad. He got the dark ones, and I got our mother’s light ones, and we both somehow lucked into our height—maybe that’s from Grandpa Dermot.
“Well,” he stands abruptly, and my shoulders drop incrementally when he completely changes the subject and says, “let’s get you settled in then.”
Vaughn leads me out to the parking lot and steps into his flashy Porsche. He may have given up on wearing suits every day, but he hasn’t gotten rid of this yet. “Why do you still drive this thing? You live in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere on a bunch of gravel roads.”
He hits me with his signature boyish grin. “Because it pisses Billie off.” And then he slams the door, and I’m left to keep up with him on the back roads. He drives like a maniac. It’s always seemed to me that everything is all fun and games for Vaughn. He’s thirty-one now and still gets a kick out of spraying gravel around the turns.
When we pull up to the blue farmhouse, I have to say I’m surprised. I expected to be relegated to the guest house, not the main house. The house our grandpa Dermot built. The house my dad grew up in.
My flight instincts kick in again.I should get out of here while I still can.
Stepping out of my black truck, I ask Vaughn, “Why aren’t you and Billie living in the main house?”
He fumbles through an overfull key chain. The disorganization of it makes my eye twitch.
“Billie likes the guesthouse. We started out there and just never left, I guess. You’ll have more room to storm around in here anyway.” He means the jab to be funny, but the blow lands with some weight. I hate that I come off this way.
When he slides his hand along the door and swings it open, I’m surprised to find the space updated from when I last stepped foot in the house. Light and airy, like it belongs in aCountry Livingmagazine.All white and blue and exposed wood. And it smellsclean.Likeproperly clean. Clean in a way that I don’t think my little brother can achieve.
I lean across the threshold and take a sniff of the lemony scent. Maybe even a little bleach. “Did you hire a cleaner?”
Vaughn just snorts. “No. Billie insisted on cleaning it for you.”
I quirk a brow at him as if to say, “Crazy Billie did this forme?”But really, my chest pinches at the thought that someone whom I haven’t tried very hard to endear myself to made the space this nice for me.
My brother just waves me off and walks into the house. With his shoes on. My teeth grind.
“Apparently, her house was a mess when she moved out here, and she’s never let me live it down. Plus, she’s been slowly updating this house as a side project. Said it needed a fresh start . . .”
I know he’s referring to the fact our grandparents lived here until each of their respective dying days. I loved them too, but Vaughn and our grandfather, Dermot, had a connection I couldn’t hold a candle to. One he almost blew his relationship with Billie over.
So, while this house reminds him of Dermot, it almost painfully floods me with memories of my dad. My idol, who I watched fall from a horse mid-race and never get back up. Vaughn was too when our father died to tie memories of him to this place, whereas every damn thing at the ranch reminds me of him.
I clear my throat, forcing myself off that train of thought. “She’s done a nice job.”
Vaughn’s eyes bug out a bit, like I’ve shocked him by complimenting his fiancée.Am I really so bad?
“I’ll let her know,” he replies with a funny look on his face. “And Cole, if you ever want to . . . I don’t know, get a beer or something, let me know. I’d be game for that. You don’t have to hole up alone out here.”
I stare back at him, seeing the forlorn kid I left behind when I boarded the plane and took off to basic training. I’ve never known how to apologize to him for leaving, and maybe I don’t need to, but feeling like I should has always left me uncomfortable around Vaughn. I’d like to be close with him, but that probably means hashing out things I prefer to avoid.Pretty sure my therapist’s ears are ringing right now.
Speaking of which, I lift my wrist to check my watch. “I have a call I need to take right away, but maybe some other time.” I don’t miss the way my brother’s shoulders drop as I turn to grab my bags from the truck.Would it have killed you to say yes to a beer?
He waltzes out behind me, that easy smile gracing his face again, and I’m momentarily jealous of his ability to recover quickly, the way shit just rolls off him while it seems to stick all over me.
