be because she didn’t really love the idea of her being around his family. Which he could understand.
He thought about his parents, back in the Bay Area. And he wondered what they would think of Iris. What Mallory would think of her.
His dad had a way of cutting down to the heart of things, and he would like how Iris was no-nonsense in her way. His mom would like how she cooked and cared for things.
Mallory would like her.
Mallory was a practical girl, even if her taste in men had always been kind of suspect. Well, her taste in one man. Granted, she never talked to him about Jared, so he didn’t really know where the two of them stood these days. But that was just because Mallory knew better than to bring him up.
Griffin was not a fan. Not in the least.
It was clear Mallory didn’t care all that much about Griffin’s opinion. If she did, she wouldn’t have been trapped in a fifteen year, off-and-on relationship with a man she had once insisted to him she was fated to be with.
For all that Griffin wasn’t best friends with fate, or the concept of it, he didn’t think—if the concept was real—it was actually his brilliant, driven sister’s fate to end up cohabitating with a guy who rarely had a job and who seemed to consider commitment flexible.
He wondered what Iris would say about that. And then he felt guilty. That he was going to spend time with her family when he had spent so long ignoring his own. But he didn’t have a place to invite them to in town. He supposed, though, they could stay at the bed-and-breakfast at the end of Main Street. An old Victorian, that was run by an elderly woman whose biscuits were famous about town.
If Mallory could get a break from the clinic. His parents had retired long ago and he knew they could come whenever.
Was he really planning ways for Iris to meet his family?
He stopped his truck in front of the house, staring at it.
“You can still turn back,” Iris said.
“No,” he said. “Not remotely tempted to. I was promised barbecue. So I’ll have it.”
They were greeted enthusiastically by the dogs when they got out of the truck, and Iris patted them while professing annoyance.
“What’s the matter?”
“They know they’re annoying,” she said as they made their way up to the front porch.
“So this is your house.”
“It’s where I grew up, yes.”
“And lived until just recently.”
“Well, yes. I guess so.”
She opened the door, and they both walked in. The entryway was cluttered, and cheerful, the floors of the home scarred and well used. There was a leather couch that looked like it had been around since Iris’s childhood.
It was warm and cheerful, very different to the modern house his parents had. He and Mallory had been born so far apart that while they’d been close, the house hadn’t been filled with a lot of kid noise the way this one must have been.
“Everyone must already be outside.” They filtered through the house, and went out the back door and indeed, everyone was already in the backyard.
West, Logan, Pansy and Rose were sitting in lawn chairs. There were two men he hadn’t met before, and a teenage boy. Then, there was Sammy and Ryder, and the little baby they’d been holding yesterday.
“Hi,” Iris said.
Everybody turned to look at them, as if they were surprised to see them.
“I told you I invited them,” Ryder said.
“Hi,” Griffin said. “I’m Griffin Chance.”
The first man, tall and broad, stood up from the lawn chair and stuck his hand out. “Colt Daniels.”
The next one, just as tall and broad, and with similar features, stood also. “Jake Daniels.”
The kid, tall, but not at all broad, stood up. “Emmett Caldwell. West’s brother.”
“And the rest of us you met,” Ryder said.
Colt and Jake then moved and enveloped Iris in a group bear hug.
“Haven’t seen you yet,” Jake said, tugging at her ponytail.
“No,” Iris said, smoothing herself like an angry cat. “I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to come see us?”
“Not on purpose,” she said.
“You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me,” Jake said. “I just bought a ranch up the way.”
“Did you?”
“Yep. Getting tired of living on the road. I figure it’s time to think about retiring. You get to your thirties in bull riding and start considering that stuff.”
“Not me,” Colt said.
“Yeah, just wait. You’re going to fall the wrong way one day and end up where I am.