The Wayward Sister (The Wayward Sons 5)

“What?”

“I’m on gate duty in thirty minutes.”

I nod, sliding off his body, catching a sight of what I’d felt underneath me. The bulge between his legs, and the grimace on his face as he stands. He drops a kiss on the top of my head and walks to the back of the house. A moment later he’s in the shower, and I’m left to face the man I slept with the night before and the other man I’ve kissed once.

I knew inviting three handsome men into my house would be interesting.

I didn’t realize it would also be this exciting.

Smith and Adrian are filthy when they come home, covered in dirt and sticky tree sap. They’d spent hours cutting up a large tree blocking some trails. They’d showered, eaten, and both headed to bed not long after they arrived.

Leaving them to sleep, I collected the leftovers and loaded them up in my car, heading to the East Gate. Holden had rushed out of the house after his shower, hair damp and smelling of soap, trying to get to his shift on time. After being so supportive this afternoon, literally, the least I could do is take him dinner.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve taken this road. It’s only recently reopened. Not many people come to the park at night, but hikers arrive at all hours, pitching tents by lantern light.

I pull up to the little wooden shack. Holden leans out the window and smiles in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner.” I lift the containers.

“Thank you.” He thinks for a moment. “Want to hang out with me while I eat?”

“Is that allowed?”

He shrugs. “It’s the night

shift. Whatever we can do to stay awake is accepted.”

He points to where I can park my car—there’s a small ranger station just ahead with bathrooms and maps. I park my car and grab the food before walking back to the gate house. When I walk up, he opens a door on the opposite side of the window. I walk in, and it’s immediately obvious how small the room is, although there is a small sitting area.

Holden doesn’t hesitate to take the dinner from me, open up the containers, and grab the silverware I brought. “Hungry?” I ask, half kidding. He’s already shoved a roll in his mouth.

“Starving,” he says around the bread. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“I owed you one.”

His eyes lock with mine. “You don’t owe me anything, Sierra. You’ve given us a place to live, you make amazing meals, you’re fun and awesome to be around…we’re lucky you let us in your life.”

His words warm my heart.

“I told you, it’s nice to have people around.”

“Well,” he says, starting in on the green beans, “I hope you mean that, because they told us today we can’t move back into the park housing for another three weeks or so.”

Three weeks?

That’s all?

I’d known it would be temporary, but hearing it said out loud brings it home. “Three weeks is fine,” I say, over the lump in my throat. “Maybe I need to set a similar deadline for the house.”

“You think we can get it all done by then?”

“I’m up for it,” I say, not wanting to think about all the work that needs to be accomplished before putting it on the market. The list is long; painting and sanding and cleaning out the garage. “That is, if you guys are?”

He holds my eye. “I think we’re up for almost anything.”

My skin prickles, and I think about how he felt underneath me that afternoon. Hard and ready. I blink first, looking away from his intense gaze, my eyes landing on a deck of cards. I lean over and pick it up. “Want to play a game?”

“That may not be a challenge you’re ready for,” he says. “I’ve had countless hours of card playing experience sitting in this box.”