the office to drop off the key.
“This is a real shit hole,” Garrett observed, settling into the front passenger seat again and wearing his hotshot aviator glasses.
Austin didn’t see any point in refuting the obvious. “Why did you and Tate track me down to Pinky’s last night?” he asked. Shep was lying down on the seat now, and Austin ran a light hand over the animal’s matted back, letting him know he’d be okay from then on.
“You’re our kid brother,” Garrett said, sounding tired. “When nobody sees you in a while, we come looking for you. It’s what we do.”
Tate was striding toward the truck now, resettling his hat as he moved. He opened the driver’s-side door, got in, started the engine. Although he wouldn’t have admitted as much, Austin was glad to be headed home, and glad to have his brothers’ company, even if they were a couple of royal pains in the ass.
Blue River, Texas November
THE EVIL BRIDES were gaining on her, closing the gap.
Paige Remington ran blindly down a dark country road, legs pumping, lungs burning, her heart flailing in her throat. Slender tree branches plucked at her from either side with nimble, spidery fingers, slowing her down, and the ground turned soft under her feet.
She pitched forward onto her hands and knees. Felt pebbles dig into her palms.
Behind her, the brides screeched and cackled in delighted triumph.
“This is only a dream,” Paige told herself. “Wake up.”
Still, sleep did not release her.
Flurries of silk and lace, glittering with tiny rhinestones and lustrous with the glow of seed pearls, swirled around her. She felt surrounded, almost smothered.
Suddenly furious, the dream-Paige surged to her feet.
If the monsters wanted a fight, then by God, she’d give it to them.
Confronting her pursuers now, staring directly at them, Paige recognized the brides. They were—and at the same time, in that curious way of dreams, were not—her sisters, Libby and Julie.
Wedding veils hid their faces, but she knew them anyway. Libby wore a luscious vintage gown of shimmering ivory, while Julie’s dress was ultramodern, a little something she’d picked up on a recent romantic getaway to Paris.
“We just want you to try on your bridesmaid’s dress,” the pair said in creepy unison. “That’s all.”
“No,” Paige said. “I’m not trying on the damn dress. Leave me alone.”
They advanced on her. Garment bags had materialized in their arms.
“But you’re our only bridesmaid,” the two chorused.
“No!” Paige repeated, trying to retreat but stuck fast.
It was then that a voice penetrated the thick surface of the dream. “Hey,” the voice said, low and male and disturbingly familiar. “You okay?”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and woke up with a jolt.
And a faceful of Austin McKettrick.
“It just keeps getting worse,” she marveled, gripping the arms of the poolside chair where she’d fallen asleep after a solitary lunch in the ranch-house kitchen.
Austin laughed, drew up a chair himself and eased into it with the care of a man much older than his twenty-eight years. His beard was coming in, buttery-brown, and his hair looked a little shaggy.
It ought to require a license, being that good-looking.
“Gee,” he drawled. “Thanks.”
It galled Paige that after all this time, he could still make her heart flutter. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Austin settled back, popping the top on a beer can, letting her know he meant to take his sweet time answering. A scruffy-looking dog meandered in and settled at his booted feet with a little huff of contented resignation.
“I reckon if anybody’s going to demand explanations around here,” Austin said at long last, “it ought to be me. I live here, Paige.”
She’d set herself up for that one. Even seen it coming. And she’d been unable to get out of the way.
Paige drew a deep breath, released it slowly. “I’ve been staying in the guest suite for a couple of days,” she said after a few moments. “The lease was up on my apartment and the renovations on our old house aren’t quite finished, so—”
Austin’s eyes were a lethal shade of blue—“heirloom” blue, as Paige thought of it, a mixture of new denim and summer sky and every hue in between. According to local legend, the McKettricks had been passing that eye color down for generations.
He studied her for a long time before speaking again. Set the beer aside without taking a sip. “My brothers,” he said, “are marrying your sisters.”
Paige sighed. “So I’ve heard,” she said.
Austin ignored the slightly snippy response, went on as if she hadn’t said anything. “That means,” he told her, “that you and I are going to have to learn to be civil to each other. In spite of our history.”
Paige recalled some of that history—youthful, frenzied lovemaking upstairs in Austin’s boyhood bedroom, the two of them dancing under the stars to music spilling from the radio in his relic of a truck.
And the fights. She closed her eyes, remembering the fights, and her cheeks burned pink.
“Paige?”
She glared at him.
“Is it a deal?” he asked quietly.
“Is what a deal?” she snapped.
Austin sighed, shoved a hand through his hair. He looked thinner than the last time she’d seen him, and shadows moved behind the light in his eyes. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was in pain—maybe physical, maybe emotional. Maybe both.
He leaned toward her, spoke very slowly and very clearly, as though addressing a foreigner with language challenges. “Whether we like it or not, we’re going to be kin, you and me, once New Year’s rolls around. My guess is, my brothers and your sisters will still be married at the crack of doom. There’ll be a whole lot of Christmases and Thanksgivings and birthday parties to get through, over the years. All of which means—”
“I know what it means,” Paige broke in. “And what’s with the condescending tone of voice?”
Austin raised both eyebrows. A grin quirked at one corner of his mouth but never quite kicked in. “What’s with the bitchy attitude?” he countered.
