Swing (Landry Family 2)

“What are you doing? You can’t say that and leave me hanging,” she complains. She reaches for me and I step back farther, laughing.

“Sure I can. I have things to show you first.”

“I hate you, Landry,” she groans, shoving off the wall with her shoulders. “I need the bathroom.”

“A little wet?” I say, bumping her shoulder. She’s not amused, which only makes me laugh harder. “The door at the end of the hallway. I’ll wait here.”

She grabs my cock and squeezes it through my pants, then she walks away.

Danielle

THE DOOR CLOSES A SPLIT second before my back hits it and I heave out a frazzled breath. I practice breathing deep, focusing on counts of eight. I realize this is Lincoln’s baseball jersey number and that makes me laugh and my heart to swell again.

I can’t win. Not with this man.

The excitement of everything is taking its toll. I could feel the adrenaline start to wear off right before Lincoln and Graham walked into the kitchen.

Graham. Holy shit. He’s like a darker, more brooding version of Lincoln. He doesn’t look at you. He assesses you. He doesn’t flippantly decide he likes you. He decides. Chooses. Everything with him seems so calculated and it leaves me scattered. He’s a force, the eye of a hurricane, and his power is felt not just by me, but by the whole family. They jab at him, tease him, but there’s a respect with Graham that makes me wonder who he really is behind the scenes.

I make my way to the sink and check myself out in the vanity. My reflection smiles back. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes almost shining in the light. I look . . . happy.

Rinsing my mouth out with a handful of cool water and smoothing out my ha

ir, I open the door and flip off the light. Making my way down the hallway, I almost laugh out loud. It’s like walking through a commercial for greeting cards. Everything is so cozy and inclusive, just like the Landry’s have made me feel.

Lincoln isn’t standing where I left him. I peek into the kitchen and don’t see him in the mix. Turning, I catch the outline of two bodies, one of which is undeniably Lincoln’s, on the front porch through the window. I pitter across the hardwood and have my hand on the doorknob when I hear his voice on the other side.

“Yeah, Sienna,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I do. I like her a lot.”

“I like her too.”

I smile and know I should open the door and not eavesdrop. But when I hear their voices again, curiosity gets the better of me.

“She seems really nice,” Sienna continues. “I think she really likes you too.”

“What’s not to love?”

Sienna laughs at him as I stifle my own.

“I didn’t say she loves you, asshole,” Sienna jokes. “I said likes you. But, since you brought it up . . .”

My heart slams so hard I’m afraid they hear it. My free hand clamps over my mouth and I drop my other from the handle. I’m not about to open the damn door now.

“Do you love her, Linc?”

Shoes squeak against the porch before what sounds like a chain rattling. Then it rattles again. When Lincoln answers, his voice sounds a bit farther away.

“I think so.” His words, even though a touch distant, are as clear as a bell. Both in volume and in meaning, and my heart wraps them around itself. “I think I love her.”

“Why? Why her? Not that I don’t like her, but I’m curious.”

“She’s such a great person,” he says. I know without looking at him that he’s smiling and looking out across the lawn. “Dani’s smart and funny and she cares about shit. Not just how she looks or how I look or my contract. She never asks about it. She asks about my shoulder, but not about the game. Not ever.”

“I like that,” Sienna say softly.

“Me too.” The chains rattle again. “She’s one-of-a-kind, Sienna.”

“What are you going to do about it?”