The other men murmured their agreement.
I shook my head at their caveman antics.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I murmured to Ashe as I pushed off his lap. He made to stand. “Oh no. You can drive me around if that makes you feel better, but I can pee all by myself.”
I flicked my gaze to the other couch where Patrick still sat. He hadn’t joined in the conversation about the blown tire, but he hadn’t been there. Or if he had, he wasn’t saying. He was being supervised by more than a handful of men. I was safe.
Instead of returning to the great room—I wasn’t a big fan of baseball—I returned to the kitchen through the entry off the hallway. I picked up the platter Cricket had dried to put it away. Squatting down, I opened one of the low cabinets.
“You’re pretty good at driving.”
I glanced up, saw Patrick looming over me. He was handsome, but his eyes held…something. My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly put the platter away, then stood. He didn’t move back. He smelled like he’d had one too many beers.
“Thanks.” I gave him a quick fake smile. “It was pretty scary. And we were lucky.”
He slowly shook his head. “Lucky? Yeah, you and your sisters are really lucky.” He paused and I held my breath. “I mean, look at this place.”
He gestured with his hand in a big circle.
“The house is beautiful,” I agreed. I tried to skirt around him, but he stepped in my way.
“What do you want, Patrick?” I asked, trying to stay as calm as possible.
He didn’t look calm now. He looked a little drunk, a little pissed.
“Yes, Patrick, what do you want?” Sam said. Ashe stood beside him.
Patrick turned at the sound of his voice and I quickly darted around him and to Sam’s side. He was leaning against the peninsula, arms crossed. He tucked me into his side as I approached. I was thankful he was there to rescue me…and that I hadn’t had to torque Patrick’s fingers like I had Alan’s.
“What do I want?” He shook his head, ran his hands over the top of his head as if he had a migraine, messing up his blond hair. When he looked our way again, his eyes were wild. “I want what’s rightfully mine.”
“What’s rightfully yours?” Archer asked, coming into the room from the hallway as I had. His hands were at his sides, palms out.
Riley, Lee and Boone appeared at the far side of the counter, looking into the kitchen. Sutton came and stood beside me. There was no way out of the kitchen. The plan to be low key, to let Archer take care of it, appeared to be short lived. For some reason, Patrick was cracking now. Perhaps it was the beer or the talk of the accident. Or maybe he just snapped.
“Everything,” Patrick shouted.
I startled at his sudden intensity.
“You seem upset,” Archer said. His tone was slow. Even. While he wasn’t wearing his uniform, he was all sheriff. “Why don’t you tell us what you mean?”
Patrick shook his head, glanced at the floor, then back at Archer.
“This house, the land, the money is mine. Mine!”
Sam’s hand flexed around my waist.
“Why is it yours?” Archer prodded.
“Because Aiden Steele’s my father, too!”
Holy shit. Patrick was my half-brother? Out of the six of us, he’d be the youngest, even younger than Penny by a few years. He had to be twenty or so. Maybe twenty-one.
“There was no mention of you in the will,” Riley said. Everyone turned to look at him.
Patrick’s eyes narrowed and his cheeks reddened. “Yes, I’m fucking aware of that. Why do you think they have all the money and I don’t?” He pointed at me as if I represented all the Steele sisters.
“Why aren’t you mentioned in the will, Patrick?” Archer asked.