“How come you didn’t tell them I was here?” she asked, directing her question toward Grant when he entered the barn.
Neither one of them made an effort to answer her question.
“You can tell me, you know,” she said, placing her hand in the curve of her tiny waist. “I can handle it.”
Grant frowned. Blake cleared his throat.
“You didn’t think I’d stay clean,” she said.
“I never doubted whether or not you’d stay clean if you remained here with us,” Grant told her.
Blake tapped the horse’s shoe, securing the shape to the animal’s hoof. He glanced up. He narrowed his eyes and said, “You always have a choice, ya know?”
“You mean I can choose to go, and you’ll let me walk out of here?”
Grant shot Blake a cold glare.
“Hey now!” she exclaimed. “Don’t show ill will toward the messenger. I’m just asking questions, making conversation.”
Blake left the crossties and grabbed a lead rope from the tack room. When he returned, he hooked the lead to the horse’s halter and released the crossties. The clickety-plop of new shoes resounded throughout the barn.
Morgan shrugged. “I always figured after I said I’d do things your way, I’d never have a choice again.”
“We all make choices, Morgan,” Grant reminded her. “You chose to stay here and let us help you.”
She waggled her brows. “I find the benefits mutually satisfying, don’t you?”
He chuckled. “Fact is, if you wanted to go, we’d have to let you leave. It’s criminal to hold you against your will.”
“Is that why you keep me so busy with extracurricular activities?” she asked, thinking she’d never had so much sex in all her life.
“You never know,” Grant said, arching a brow. “Why, are you getting tired of us already?”
“No, actually,” she began, noting a light blue pickup truck racing down the driveway, “I’m beginning to think Blake was right. I’ve always been a junkie. First it was adrenaline—high school and college sports. Then, it was drugs. Now, believe it or not, I’m a sex junkie. As far as I know, there’s no surefire cure.” A beat later, she added, “Besides, from what I understand, an addict can’t secure help for an addiction when they aren’t seeking treatment.”
“Is that a fact?” Grant asked, grabbing her hand and bringing her fingertips to his lips.
“Sure is.”
Blake secured her free hand and they walked toward the circular driveway located in front of the dairy barn. “As long as Grant and I remain your only drug of choice, I believe we can work on a satisfactory treatment plan.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, swinging their arms as she walked out to greet her brothers.
“Good. We’re not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us.”
“Speaking of leaving,” Blake began, shooting Grant a smirk. “I haven’t heard you mention moving to Florida again. Does Morgan have anything to do with that?”
Grant chuckled. “I told you I was moving south for two reasons—hot chicks and football.”
“I’ll wear a Jacksonville jersey to bed. How’s that?” she asked.
Grant growled. “In matters of sports, I prefer two-hand-touch and skin-on-skin.”
“Do you?” she asked, her focus returning to the truck. Her heart raced. Her pulse picked up a notch. The driver’s side opened and closed. Here we go.
Kit reached in the back and retrieved a piece of luggage. The passenger’s side door opened a few seconds later. Kemper exited the truck, helping a woman away from the bench-style seat.
“Who the hell is that?” Morgan asked.
“Never seen her before,” Grant said, squeezing her hand.
“Morgan!” Kemper exclaimed, running toward her the second he saw her from under his tented hand. As he approached, Morgan eyed the brother behind him. Kit’s body went rigid. He squared his shoulders. The duffle bag fell at his feet and he slowly turned to face her.
Kit stared at her like he wasn’t sure he could trust his eyes. Then, as if her presence there finally registered, Kit sprinted toward her, too. “Oh my God, Morgan!”
They ran as fast as they could, greeting her with open arms. After the warm welcome was extended, Kit grabbed her hand and said, “Come on. We have someone we want you to meet. You’ll love her. There’s something about her. She’s a lot like you.”
“That could mean trouble,” Grant warned them.
Morgan elbowed him. “I’m worth it, remember?”
“Ask me in a year or two, and I’ll let you know.”