Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

When his hands grab my hips, I know I’ve got him just where I want him. “How do you feel about the shower?”

I tug him toward his room. “Better get me dirty first.”

“We’ll be getting dirty all right.” Lifting me, he puts me over his shoulder and smacks my ass. “I wasn’t hungry for food anyway.”

“What are you hungry for then?”

“I’m famished. For you.”

Twenty-One

Peck

“Peck Ward, you have some explaining to do.” Nana brandishes a wooden spoon my way. “Why wasn’t your butt in a church pew this morning, young man?”

“Let me get in the house first. Geez,” I say, closing the door behind me.

Machlan and Lance stand at the island, clearly enjoying their position as the good grandsons. That doesn’t happen often with either of them.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Lance says, popping a cashew in his mouth. “I think he was getting a little last night.”

“Hey, Lance. Shut the fuck up,” I say.

“Really with that language on the Sabbath?” Nana asks.

“Sorry.”

Lance laughs. “Getting laid brings out the feistiness in ya. I like it.”

“She’d make you feisty too,” Machlan teases. “Peck’s got himself a hottie.”

“And it’s not Molly. Hey, that rhymed,” Lance says.

I have a half a notion to turn around and walk out. I’ve got enough shit on my mind besides listening to these two idiots tease me all day.

Was I getting a little, as Lance so eloquently put it? Yes. Does Molly need to be included in this conversation? No. And is any of this their business? Absolutely not.

But they’re … them, so they’ll make it their business.

Assholes.

Nana turns back to the stove. “Well, if Peck was entertaining a lady last night”—she pauses and looks at Lance as if to make a point—“and that lady was Dylan, then he gets a pass.”

“I never got a pass,” Lance points out.

“Because you would’ve needed a pass every other week,” Nana tells him. “Peck is a good boy. He shows up for Jesus every week without fail.” She sets the spoon down and looks at me. “So were you with Dylan last night?”

Machlan and Lance burst into laughter as my jaw drops. I stare at my little grandma as she waits patiently for me to tell her who I was sleeping with.

“Nana … no,” I say. My response only makes my cousins laugh louder. “We really don’t need to discuss this.”

“I don’t want to discuss it. I know the mechanics of having sex, Peck,” she says.

I think Machlan is going to piss himself.

“All I’m asking is if you were having sex with Dylan,” she says calmly.

My hands go in the air as I walk in a circle. “I have no idea what happened to this family. It’s like y’all went off and lost your damn minds.”

“Couple of ’em in here didn’t have any minds to start with,” Walker says, shutting the door behind him. He looks around the room. “What are we laughing about?”

Lance points at Nana. “She just told Peck she wants to know who he was fucki—screwing last night.”

Nana’s hands go on her hips. “I did no such thing. Not with those words, anyway.”

“I can tell you that,” Walker says, knocking me off-balance with his shoulder as he walks by. “He’s been worthless since she got to town.”

“Fucker,” I say, ignoring Nana’s gasp. “I have not.”

He picks up a handful of cashews and pops them in his mouth. He’s completely nonplussed.

“I hate you all,” I tell them. “Except you, Nana. I love you.”

She raises a brow and goes back to the stove. The oven door is opened, and the smell of cornbread fills the kitchen.

I take a seat next to Lance. He and Machlan argue about lottery odds while Walker kisses Nana on the cheek.

“I was going to fry some potatoes too, but I’m just too tired,” she says. “Cooking takes a toll on me these days.”

“We keep telling you to stop it,” Machlan says. “Let the girls cook for you.”

“Or for us,” Lance says.

Nana shoves that idea away with the back of her hand. “Don’t be silly. I just need to go a little slower than before. I’ll get my strength back up. I just need some time.”

“Sienna would’ve been here to help, but she had to fly to Los Angeles yesterday over some contract for her company. She got a deal to design for a place that does evening gowns or something.”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “Mariah would’ve been here too but volunteered to make a bunch of cakes and stuff for the nursing home in town. They were having some birthday month party thing,” he says, unsure. “She got Hadley to help her.

Walker looks at me. “Where’s Dylan?”

“You too?” I ask, raising a brow.

He grins.

“Look, you guys. Dylan and I are just …”

My voice trails off because I don’t know what we’re doing now. I suppose the accurate term would be sleeping together, but that doesn’t feel quite right. That feels … careless. Replaceable. Those aren’t two words I care to place on whatever last night was.