All He Really Needs(31)

That cynical smile flirted across Cooper’s lips again. “And not talk about the heiress at all.”

Griffin laughed. “Yeah. I can see why the offer looks suspicious. But I mean it. You’re not in town that much. Dalton and I don’t see you often enough.”

“Oh, but you and Dalton hang out all the time?”

“I wouldn’t say all the time. But after the divorce he moved into my building, so, yeah, I see him. Not that he’ll be around much this week.”

“Right. ’Cause of Laney.”

Because Cooper had lived in their house for a couple of years after his mother had died, he knew Laney, too, and, as far as Griffin could tell, they’d even been close back in high school.

Cooper had looped his key ring on one of his fingers and he gave the ring a jostle so the keys flipped around his hand and he caught them again. Griffin smiled because he did that same thing with his keys.

“What do you say? There’s a great sushi place not far from the office.”

Cooper shrugged, though he still looked surprised. “Sure. We should do that.”

But, in truth, the invitation had surprised Griffin, too. He’d never before had the impulse to bond with Cooper. Neither he nor Dalton had ever been particularly close to Cooper. Yeah, they’d lived in the same house for Cooper’s last two years of high school and during summers before that. They’d wrestled and fought. They’d played touch football more roughly than they probably should have. But had they ever really talked? About anything?

For the first time in his life, that bugged Griffin.

It occurred to him now that once Hollister died, Cooper might never again come down to Texas. Unless there was some major shift in his relationship with his brother, once Hollister was gone, he might never see him again.

Suddenly, he thought of Sydney and all that he’d learned that morning from that damn file. Of the foster mother she still kept in touch with. Of the other kids who’d grown up with her in that foster home with whom she still kept in touch.

It wasn’t the kind of thing Sydney talked about. Hell, he shouldn’t even know about it, but he did. And he couldn’t shake the impression that if Sydney knew just how lazy he was in his relationship with Cooper, she’d be disappointed. Why that mattered, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that if Sydney had a half sibling, she’d damn well have done more than have her assistant send a card at the holidays.

He didn’t stop to ask himself why it mattered what Sydney would do. Instead, he followed the faint sound of clattering dishes into the kitchen, where he assumed he would find his mother. Yes, it was rare for her to cook and even odder for her to clean, but he figured that must be where she was because the house was otherwise quiet.

However, instead of his mother, he found Portia at the sink, quietly loading glasses into the dishwasher. Portia had been married to Dalton for nearly a decade before their divorce a year ago. Though Dalton never complained that Portia still flitted about the edges of their family, Griffin found it bizarre as hell.

She looked up when he walked in and gave a jump as if he’d startled her out of deep thought. “Oh, it’s you.”

He stopped on the far side of the kitchen, not wanting to get too close to Princess Portia. “I was looking for my mother.”

Daintily drying her hands on a dishtowel, Portia sighed, making it clear that speaking to him was a burden. “She’s having lunch at the country club.”

He glanced at his watch. “Perfect. I’ll check there.”

“You should call first and have her add you to the guest list,” Portia said in her most helpful voice. “Otherwise they might not let you in.”

Like all good Southern women, Portia’s helpful voice was designed to eviscerate unsuspecting victims.

“Just out of curiosity, why are you here at all?” he asked. “I mean, you do know that you’re not actually part of this family anymore, right?”

Her hands clenched on the towel before she tossed it aside. “I’m here because your parents are going through an extremely difficult time and none of you boys has the common sense to check in on them.”

Ignoring the sting of truth that accompanied that barb, he said, “I’m here now.”

“And I’m guessing you came to harass your mother about what she knows about Hollister’s illegitimate daughter.”

“I—”

“She knows nothing. And I can’t begin to tell you how distressed she is by this mess that whore stirred up.”

The vehemence in Portia’s voice nearly rocked him back a step. “Wow, that’s an awfully harsh word, Portia. Did it tarnish that silver spoon on the way out of your mouth?”