"Don't go anywhere without a pistol," Luke said. "I killed a rattlesnake right over there this weekend."
"Rattlesnake in February?"
"They don't have calendars, Kennedy. They just know it's warmed up. You remember how to shoot?"
"It's been awhile." She remembered trekking out from the house to the tree line, toting a shotgun, ammo and a bag of cans for targets.The brothers had preferred handguns, though now that she thought back on it, Luke had looked damned hot shooting her shotgun. "Maybe we can get some practice in?"
He slid a look in her direction. "Maybe."
"What've you got?"
"A .38 in the glove box and a shotgun behind the seat. You're not going to shoot up my fence like you did your daddy's, though."
"That was your brother. He was a terrible shot."
"Still is." He turned on the signal light.
She straightened, straining to see through the trees. He crossed a cattle guard onto a gravel road lined with weeds. Her stomach tightened when she caught sight of a peaked tin roof over the tops of the weeds. He crested a rise and there it was, a single-storied Victorian, L-shaped with a porch that ran the length of it, and peeling paint.
"It's laid out like Dad's place," she said quietly.
He braked, some distance from the house. "I noticed that. Some day I'll add the limestone patio, the barbecue pit, a split rail fence. Maybe some flowering vines, morning glories or something trailing along."
Just like home. She could picture him here, just as she'd seen him at home, sitting on the patio, drinking beer and laughing in the evenings after a hard day's work. The question was, who would be with him?
He pulled up closer to the house and she got out of the truck, looking at the house. God, she missed home, and was aware of the irony that she hadn't been able to get away fast enough, away to college, away to the big city. Not because she didn't love her dad, but because she was tired of being the only female around so many men. If Luke and Liam weren't enough, her father's poker buddies were always around. She didn't begrudge him his friends, but maybe he could have chosen better ones.
"Watch your step," he warned, motioning to the high grass as he rounded the truck to get his handgun out of the glove box.
She skirted the worst of the weeds and glanced at him as she put her hand on the rail to mount the porch.
"It's stable. I worked on that this weekend, and getting the plumbing going."
The screen door dragged against the porch when she opened it, and he stepped forward with the keys, swinging the door inward. The musty smell that came from disuse hit her as she stepped into the entryway. Even with the warming trend, the house held the chill of winter, and she shivered in her t-shirt.
To her right was the living room with a big window looking out onto the giant oak in the middle of the yard, and to her left was the dining room--at least she supposed it was. There was no furniture in the house that she could see, though he'd promised her a bed.
"Kitchen's through there," he said. "Running water and electricity, but it's a mess, and I don't have appliances." Which was why they'd stopped for sandwich supplies and packed them in the cooler. "Bedrooms are down that hall and to the left. Only one bathroom is working and I cleaned it the best I could."
She turned into the dining room to walk through the empty kitchen--also with big windows, which made the place bright and happy despite its disrepair. There was a door leading outside on one end of the room, and a door leading to the hallway at the other. She followed the hallway down the longer part of the L. Three bedrooms and two bathrooms lined it, but only one bedroom had a bed, a big one, with a wrought iron headboard that looked old, the white paint peeling, though the bed itself was neatly made with a quilt and big pillows, inviting. Her nipples pebbled just thinking about being in it with Luke.
"You like it?" he asked, suddenly too
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