Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)

“Is that why he’s so closed off?” I ask quietly.

“Part of it.”

Before he can say any more, the door to his truck is jerked open. Peck gasps, grabbing the steering wheel as he almost falls out. Walker doesn’t break stride, just keeps walking, tossing a glare Peck’s way as he rounds the front.

My breath hitches, holding tight in my lungs, as I wait to see if he’s going to come my way.

He’s unbuttoned the two top buttons on his shirt, the ends hanging out and hitting him in the middle of his ass.

He looks up at me just before turning towards the house. Something pools in his eyes, a concentration of emotion that both lures me in and pushes me away. Before I can make sense of it, he’s taking the steps to the back door, the tail of his shirt billowing in the breeze.

“What’s that all about?” I ask, my voice squeaking a bit against my parched throat.

Peck climbs out of the truck then stops. Leaning inside, his arms against the top, he gives me his relaxed everything-is-gonna-be-great grin. “Things are gonna be a little awkward for a bit. He’s gonna be pissy and dumb, but you’ve seen him like that before. Just give him a minute, okay?”

“Fine,” I grumble opening my door.

“Sienna?”

“Yeah?”

“I also think he’s really good for you. This isn’t about just him, you know?”

Twisting in my seat, I look at him over my shoulder. I don’t know what to say to that.

“One more thing,” he says, shoving off the door and shutting it. “If he kills me or seriously injures me, have them take me to Linton General and tell them I requested Nurse Shelby.”

“Oh my God . . .”

NANA’S HOUSE IS EVERYTHING I imagined it would be. Neat as a pin, smelling of roast beef and sugar, with pictures everywhere in adorable frames, it’s as cozy and inviting as only Nana’s house could be.

A blue apron wrapped around her middle, she pulls open the oven door as Peck and I walk in. “Peck,” she says instantly, “go in the laundry room and grab a towel. I need to set these pies on something and I’m out of potholders.”

“Sure, Nana.”

Peck disappears around the corner, leaving me standing in the middle of the kitchen. As inviting as it is and as invited as I was to be here, I still can’t help but feel awkward. Although it’s homey, there’s nothing familiar. No spoons from vacations we took as kids, no memories of my family sitting around eating breakfast in the mornings. Even Nana, as sweet as sugar, isn’t mine. She’s Walker’s. And he’s not mine either.

Looking around, wondering where he went, I know I need to say something in order to calm down before I all-out panic and make a mess of myself.

“Um, do you need some help?” I ask, figuring it to be the best way to break the weirdness. “I’m not a great cook, but I can do menial labor in the kitchen with the best of them.”

Nana laughs, lifting a pie out of the oven. “Grab a spoon and stir the potatoes. I don’t want them sticking to the bottom. That pot isn’t my favorite, but it’s the only one I have big enough to feed all the boys on Sundays.”

“Where are they?” Peck asks, coming around the corner. He lays a red towel folded in half on the middle of the table.

“Not sure,” Nana says with a nod to a doorway between the refrigerator and sink. “He came in and muttered hello and took off that way. Machlan and Lance are in the family room watching one of those games y’all watch. I made a cheese ball and Machlan swiped it up and carried it off when I wasn’t looking.”

“You let him have the whole thing?” Peck whines.

“No, I didn’t let him have the whole thing. He took it when I was rolling out a pie crust.”

“Well, go get it.”

“I’m not going to go get it,” she laughs. “You go get it. You’re a big boy.”

Peck looks at me and sticks out his bottom lip. “It’s the best cheese ball ever. She puts bacon bits on the outside.”

A rustle comes from the doorway next to the kitchen and my heart comes to a screeching halt before roaring to life again. “I do love me some bacon,” I mumble, my eyes on the door. “I’ll go get it. Where’s the family room?”

Nana gives me instructions and I head that way. Down a short hallway with images of what has to be Walker and his brothers hanging side by side, I spy Machlan and Lance at the room on the end. There’s blue carpeting, white walls, and brown leather furniture. The boys are sprawled out, reclined back, and look up as I enter.

“Hey,” I say, stepping into the room and then off to the side so you can’t see me from the hallway. “What are you watching?”