“Oh no. Well, you’ll obviously want some family time.”
“You can still meet them, though? You could come for dinner?” I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve invited a woman to meet my family. I definitely like her enough to stage an introduction. The fact that Dillion can cook doesn’t hurt, either, especially since my sister makes salads, and baked goods she rarely eats, and Bradley’s skill set ends at dialing for takeout.
“Do you want me to come for dinner?”
“I always want you to come. And I love eating you for dinner, but it might be awkward with my family there.”
She snickers. “Oh my God, you’re the worst. Maybe it’s better for me to skip family dinner.”
“Don’t skip dinner. I’d love for you to meet Teagan and Bradley.” My brother is high on the pretentious side, but hopefully he’ll be on his best behavior with Dillion present.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. Should I pick anything up? A bottle of wine? Something for dinner?”
“I was thinking I’d make it easy and grill burgers.” Mostly because it’s the only thing I can make that I don’t mess up. Even my grilled cheese sandwiches end up burnt most of the time.
“You can’t just have burgers, Van. I’ll make a salad. Oh, and potato salad. Or loaded double-baked potatoes.”
“Loaded double-baked potatoes?”
“Yeah, you bake them, then scoop out the insides and mix them with butter, sour cream, bacon, chives, and cheese and bake them again.”
“Those sound heavenly and like they require a workout afterward. The naked kind.”
“Well, that’s not happening with your family visiting, since as you mentioned before, I’m not very quiet. Looks like you’ll have to go for an after-dinner run. Speaking of running, I’ve got a meeting in twenty. I’ll see you later tonight.”
She ends the call before I can fire off a snarky comeback.
CHAPTER 20
BROTHERLY NO LOVE
Van
Bradley and Teagan don’t arrive until almost five. I’m guessing my brother is the reason for the delay. They’re also driving his lemon-yellow Porsche convertible. Bradley always likes to make a statement, and his car certainly does that. It screams rich, entitled, and ostentatious. At least my BMW is black and less in your face. Subdued pretention, if you will.
“Wow, this place is . . . more of a heap than I remember.” Bradley slams his car door shut and looks around, cringing when he eyes the pile of trash bags I have yet to take to the dump. They’re leaning against Billy’s car graveyard. Apparently, he has plans to fix them all up. I’m not sure there will actually be anything left of them by the time he gets around to it other than rust and dust, but they’re not on my property, and I honestly don’t care either way.
Teagan gets out of the passenger side. I smile at her outfit. It’s definitely her version of dressed down. She’s wearing a pair of high-top rhinestone-encrusted running shoes—likely bought as a gift from my dad because she said they were fun—camo-print capris, an artfully torn tank top that probably cost a small fortune, and Gucci sunglasses. Her hair is pulled up in her definition of a messy ponytail.
She runs over and throws her arms around me. “Don’t listen to him. He’s in a mood because he had to drive on a dirt road, and he’s worried about chips in his paint. I’ve missed you. I miss Sunday brunch and cocktail hours and sane conversations.”
I return the embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of Chanel No. 5, her favorite perfume, which also happened to be what our mother wore. Which means in two minutes or less she’s going to be swarmed by mosquitos and a whole host of other bugs that will find her amazingly delicious.
“Why don’t I grab your bag, and you can come inside. We can start with cocktail hour.”
“You have no idea how badly I need a drink.”
I grab my sister’s hot-pink metallic cheetah-print suitcase from the trunk and leave my brother to manage his own bag. It’s funny to watch him struggle with dragging it across the pebbled driveway.
“The deck looks new.”
“It is. Leveled it all and rebuilt it myself. Figured I had the time, and it wasn’t in very good shape.”
She threads her arm through mine. “Look at you being all handy! It looks great.”
“I don’t know why you’d bother to replace anything. Looks like a bonfire waiting to happen,” Bradley grumbles from behind us.
“Bradley, don’t be such a grump.” She squeezes my biceps. “I love this place. It’s so . . . rustic and cozy. I can’t believe I haven’t been here since I was a teenager.” She opens the door for me. “Oh wow. I don’t think it’s changed one bit.”
“That’s a pity,” Bradley sighs.
I arch a brow. “Dude, are you trying out for the morose emo teenager role in some community production, because if you are, you have it nailed. Rest assured you’ll get the part.”