Diego would fucking kill me if he knew I’d even thought about his sister that way, much less had done anything about it. I thought maybe I could get over my attraction to Harley if she wasn’t fucking living here.

  I glanced over at Tucker, who was walking through the garage door to one of our plane hangars. “Hey!” I called as he approached.

  “Hey, want to grab some dinner at Sally’s?” he asked.

  “You're not doing anything with Skylar?”

  Tucker grinned as he shook his head. “She's working late tonight. She and Ludie are going over the monthly accounting. She stresses out about that. They're all set up with takeout.”

  “I'm your second choice then,” I replied wryly.

  Tucker reached me, cuffing me lightly on the shoulder. “No, you're my friend, and I like hanging out.”

  “You can be honest. I know it's just because she's busy,” I teased.

  He rolled his eyes. “Don't I show up when we all meet at the brewery?”

  “You do.”

  “Let’s go to Sally’s. I'll be your wingman, and I'll bow out with perfect timing,” he offered, waggling his brows.

  “I don't need a wingman, dude.”

  “Don't you, though?” he teased.

  “No,” I countered, shrugging off the subtle irritation I felt.

  Of late, I’d gotten annoyed at how I was often teased as if I was some kind of player. I wasn’t. I just wasn’t interested in anything serious.

  “Let me close up here.”

  I quickly leaned into the front of the plane, snagging my backpack where it sat on the floor just behind the seat.

  Tucker crossed the garage, calling, “You need anything from the office, or can I turn the light out?”

  “Lights out,” I called in return.

  A moment later, we closed the garage bay door and walked out the side entrance together.

  Tucker paused, his gaze arcing from the plane hangars to the marshy field and the mountains beyond. “Damn. I've been here for over five years now, and I still haven’t gotten used to these long days.”

  I shrugged. “It's all I've ever known. When I was a teenager, I stayed up so late, always just doing my own thing.”

  “It helps to have the blackout shades. When I first moved here, I didn’t see the point. I’m smarter now,” he commented.

  “When I was a kid, we couldn't afford those, so we put tinfoil on the windows.”

  Tucker chuckled. We followed each other over to Sally’s because Tucker claimed he would leave sooner than I did. I would prove him wrong. I was in a new phase of responsibility and didn't feel the need to stay out late and party. I told myself this had nothing to do with Harley. Not a thing.

  A short while later, we were seated at a booth. Sally’s was an old barn renovated into a restaurant and bar. The kitchen was in the center with the restaurant on one side with booths and tables, and the other side had smaller tables and a stage for music. The old hayloft had been renovated into loft seating. The place had a relaxed, casual feel with wide-plank hardwood flooring worn after years of feet crossing over them. It was a favorite local hangout with organized card nights, karaoke nights, open mic, and the like. It also had good pub fare, nothing fancy, and always consistent.

  Tucker lifted his pint of beer, clinking his glass against mine. “To one beer tonight.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, we're both driving. So how are things with Skylar?”

  He finished his swallow of beer, his lips twitching with a smile. “Good, really good.”

  “Good,” I returned. “You deserve it.”

  “Yeah? I never understood why people say things like that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, don't you think everybody deserves something good in life? I don't think I'm any more special than anybody else,” he offered.

  I shrugged. “Okay, fair enough. But you had someone you loved, and she died, so it feels like you should catch a lucky break. How about letting yourself just enjoy this?”

  He chuckled. “Old habits die hard and all that.”

  “I get it.”

  His gaze sobered. “I suppose you do. Both of your parents died when you were pretty young.”

  I took a swallow of my beer, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. Our dad wasn't exactly around much. I miss him, but he was pretty inconsistent. My mom, though. That was a hit.” I lightly thumped my fist over my heart.

  “How old were you when it happened?”

  “I was in college. We knew she had some heart issues, but we didn’t know the extent. She collapsed, and they couldn't restart her heart.” I swallowed, my throat feeling tight for a minute.

  Grief sometimes felt like little arrows randomly striking and stinging deeply. “She was everything for all of us.”

  “It hurts to lose someone like that.”

  “It does. I still miss her.”

  “Flynn was with us. I remember he got that call, and then he was making arrangements to go home.”

  “I was up in Anchorage. I drove home that night, of course, as soon as I heard. Nora was sixteen, and Cat wasn’t even a teenager yet. They were trying to figure out if there should be a temporary guardianship since I was only in college. Thank God, they got Flynn on the phone. He promised he was making arrangements to get home. Without Flynn, I don't know what we would have done. There's no way I could have pulled off what he did with the family business. My mom had done her best, but it was slow going. It was nothing like what we have now, in large part thanks to all of you coming out to fly.”

  Tucker held my gaze, nodding slowly. “Well, we all love to fly. Flynn would have made it work without us, though.”

  “Maybe. But I like it this way. It feels like we're all a family.”

  “Damn straight, we are,” he said firmly.

  The server arrived to take our food order. After we ordered, Layla stopped by, slipping into the booth beside me.

  “Hey.” She nudged me playfully with her shoulder.

  I grinned down at her. She smiled over at Tucker, asking politely about Skylar and so on. She made herself comfortable.

  A while later, Tucker departed with a wink and a smile, clapping me on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow. If I don't see you at work, I'll be out at the lodge for yoga.”

  “All right. Have a good one,” I replied.

  Then it was Layla and me. “How have you been? I haven't seen you out much,” she commented.

  “Just been busy.”

  I decided then and there I needed to distract myself from Harley and that sizzling electric encounter the other night. I slid my arm around Layla’s shoulders. “Where are you headed?”

  “Home,” she answered, her blue eyes blinking when she smiled up at me.

  All of this should have gotten my engine revving. Instead, I just wasn't feeling it. I told myself we would go out to the parking lot and I would kiss her to get me started.

  Wrong. I couldn't even bring myself to kiss her.

  “Something wrong, Grant?” she asked when we were standing by her car.

  “Nah. Good to see you.”

  She leaned up, pressing a kiss on my cheek and catching my hand to reel me closer. I shook my head. “Not tonight.”

  I drove home with Harley on my mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  Harley

  Several days later, I was back at the doctor’s office, and Quinn was waiting patiently. I stared down at my hands before lifting my eyes to his again. He was a little too handsome to be a doctor, but I liked him. He had this comfortable, relaxed manner to him.

  “I don't want to take medication,” I finally said.

  He took a breath, nodding in acknowledgment before replying, “I understand that, but I think it would help. I'm concerned if you don't—”

  I shook my head, anger rising swiftly inside. “Why? It's just an irregular heartbeat,” I argued.

  “It's not quite that simple. It's erratic, and it affects the oxygen flow in your system. That’s what’s causing the fainting episodes. Can you help me understand what you're concerned about, and why you're so opposed to medication?”

  My irritation felt prickly. I wanted to shake the feeling away. I didn't want to explain. That meant admitting I didn't like having weakness of any kind. “I've been doing fine without it,” I finally said, my voice sounding a little sharper than I intended.

  “Okay. Look, let's schedule a follow-up. I'd like you to think about it. I'm going to give you some information that explains what's happening and how the medication will help.”

  “Okay. Aren't you supposed to listen to what I want?” I pressed.

  Quinn was entirely unruffled by my snappiness. “I am listening, but as your doctor, it's my responsibility to be honest with you about what I recommend and what's best for your health. I do respect if you choose not to take the medication. Maybe when you're more comfortable with me, you can explain why. In the meantime, let's schedule a follow-up. You can review the information and think about the medication.”

  I kept my temper in check. It wasn’t his fault. This was actually the same thing my other doctor had told me.

  “This will significantly decrease your likelihood of having these episodes.”

  “What episodes?” I asked as if I didn’t know.

  “The fainting, the breathlessness, and temporary weakness.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I'll think about it.”

  He stood and was opening the door when I said, “Dr. Haynes.” He turned back. “I'm not annoyed with you. I'm annoyed with the situation.”

  “You can be annoyed with me, but I appreciate the clarification.”

  Between that and having to have a conversation with Diego and our sisters about this, I was feeling, well, snippy about it. Apparently, there was a family history of heart issues. I'd had to listen to a little lecture from my oldest sister. My mom's sister had the same thing I did.

  I’d lied to all of them and told them it was mild and no medication had been recommended. I didn't like to lie, but I also didn't want to deal with my family's overbearing attitude since I was the youngest of five siblings with bossy sisters and an overprotective older brother. For the first time since it had happened, my mind flung itself in the direction of Grant.

  It was a relief to think about him later that night even though all of that mess was an inconvenient and consuming distraction. He was a better option than worrying about the stupid heart thing.

  It still chafed me that he had told Diego. Like I needed another overprotective guy in my life. That evening, Cat wasn't at the staff house. She was in Anchorage with a friend for the whole weekend. Which meant it was just Grant and me.

  That didn't have to mean anything, or so I told myself. It wasn't like he was here every night anyway or that our schedules aligned. I often hung out at the lodge with Daphne and Nora. Or I holed up in my room to read and work late on projects. With my job primarily online, my bed could be my desk. I didn't have to interact with Grant.

  Except tonight I wanted to. I wanted a distraction. Badly.

  When I stopped by the lodge, Daphne was busy with guests. With Cat up in Anchorage, she was busier than usual. I offered to help. I basically just followed her instructions in the kitchen, stirring this, cleaning that, putting things on the table for the guests, and playing tourist guide for those with questions about the area and what to do.

  I kept wondering if Grant would make an appearance. Staff usually swung by and grabbed something for dinner unless they were otherwise occupied. The moment he showed up, I felt a fiery prickle of awareness race down my spine.

  I forced myself to finish what I was doing, putting the latest round of dishes through the industrial-sized dishwasher in the back. I turned to see him standing at the counter laughing at something Flynn said. He reached for one of the stuffed savory rolls Daphne had made for appetizers. She had left extras out for the staff.

  Flynn turned his attention to Daphne, leaning over and asking her a question. As Grant chewed, his eyes arced around the kitchen before they landed on where I stood in the back by the dishwasher, drying my hands with a towel.

  Our gazes collided. I felt caught in a beam, and my belly shimmied, sending tingles through my system. I paid close attention to what I was doing. I finished drying my hands on the towel and looked away, tossing it in the laundry basket under the sink.

  I told myself to play it cool. Daphne turned when I stopped beside where she was putting away the pots and pans.

  “Thank you for your help,” she said with a smile. “With Cat gone, there’s extra for me to do.”

  “Always glad to help. You want me to help over the weekend?”

  “Well, you don't have to.”

  “I'm offering,” I replied with a smile.

  “I'd love it. Thank you.” She leaned over, curling an arm around my shoulders and squeezing me before stepping away.

  “Are we done?” I asked.

  “Everything's put away,” she said.

  “Daphne, these are amazing,” Grant commented as he finished another savory roll. “What's in them?”

  “Swiss cheese with caramelized onions and roast beef.”

  “The pastry is seriously good,” he replied.

  “Well, there's a lot of butter in it,” Daphne replied with a grin. “You can take the rest with you if you'd like.”

  “Hey, wait a sec,” Flynn interjected, his eyes widening.

  Daphne rolled her eyes. “I already put some in our apartment.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Flynn sighed.

  Grant smiled at them. “Dude, you are so spoiled. You know she'd stay up and make you extra if you wanted.”

  “I know, but I wouldn't ask her.” Flynn scoffed.

  Daphne shrugged. “I wouldn't mind. I love to bake. Here.” She crossed over to another counter and returned with a piece of foil to neatly wrap the remaining rolls.

  “There’s my breakfast tomorrow,” Grant said. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Good night,” Flynn said, rounding the counter and reaching for Daphne's hand.

  They disappeared through the door to the hallway that led to their apartment, leaving Grant and me alone in the kitchen. I glanced up at Grant. The space suddenly felt crowded, and it wasn't small by any stretch. Daphne had already turned out the lights in the dining room area, leaving just the dim lights on in the kitchen.

  I glanced toward the windows, looking for any distraction. The moon rose above the mountains, casting a pearly glow over the landscape and illuminating a cluster of cottonwood trees nearby.

  The sound of my swallow was audible as I turned back. Grant was simply standing there with his hand resting on the edge of the counter. I sucked in a quick breath, and even that seemed loud. My heart was pounding, the rush of blood echoing in my ears with every beat.

  “Well…” I heard myself whispering, my voice coming out raspy.

  Grant’s gaze was locked with mine.

  “Well, what?” he pressed, his low voice sending my belly into spinning flips.

  I swallowed again, making a quick and perhaps disastrous decision. This chemistry between us wasn't going anywhere. After the other night and knowing the magic he wrought with his touch, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

  The hum of attraction between us snapped and crackled every time we were near each other. I desperately wanted a distraction, anything to stop thinking about my health worries. I knew my heart wouldn't get involved with Grant. Definitely not.

  The air around us felt charged. I cleared my throat.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was annoyed with myself. I wasn’t a nervous woman, not usually. I took two strides, closing the distance between us, and lifted a hand. He arched a brow, and his lips twitched at the corners.

  “What?” I asked, grabbing onto my prickly response to him like it was a lifeline.

  “I was just wondering if you were about to point at me again.”

  My forefinger literally itched. “No, and why would you say that?” I retorted.

  “Because you do it all the time, Harley. Not just to me.”

  I was already simmering with the heat of my raw lust for him. I got even hotter, my anger stirring the cauldron of desire. “No, I don’t.”

  “Should I ask your brother, or maybe everybody else who knows you?” he countered dryly.

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. So what if I do?”

  He shrugged. “You were about to say something. What did you want?”

  One more step and I was right in front of him with mere inches separating us. Grant was all coiled strength and heat and energy. And I wanted him.

  I curled my fist around his shirt, tugging him down and murmuring, “This,” right before our mouths collided.

  Our kiss exploded instantly with our tongues practically at war. Grant shifted closer, his palm landing between my shoulder blades and sliding down my back. His touch was a burning path of heat.

  I let out a gasp when his palm curved over my bottom, pressing me tight against his arousal. We broke apart.

  I knew my eyes were wide with a combination of shock and need.

  “This is stupid,” he said flatly.

  “No, it's not,” I insisted even though a big part of me knew he had a point.

  “No?” His gravelly voice sent shivers through me.

  “It doesn't have to be anything but this.”

  “This kiss?” he pressed.

  I knew he was daring me to clarify, daring me to take it further.

  “Just us, friends with benefits. Nothing more than that.” Recklessness and need drove me.

  “That's a recipe for complications,” he pointed out.

  If I was in the mood for logic, I would’ve agreed with him. “No, it's not. You don't want a relationship, and neither do I. We've been busy avoiding each other. This way, we don't have to do that. This will scratch the itch, and it'll go away.”