SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,84

said it, Ren realized it was true. He’d been on a grueling schedule for months, years, maybe, and if he told the complete truth, learning of Gwen’s death had thrown him a little. “And Bean put the pressure on me to personally ensure the place was doing okay in the Lemons’ absence.”

“That’s bullshit. A gardener comes by. The pool guy. Seven of the nine of us live within an hour’s drive if traffic isn’t jammed. We’d look in if asked.”

“Well, I’m in California now.” And not resenting the arm-twisting so much. He did need a breather. Then his brother’s words sank in, seven of the nine, and he remembered his purpose for calling. “Why the hell didn’t you call and tell me that Beck is missing?”

“I didn’t know you’d care.”

That rankled. Ren paused as he started up the path that led toward the fruit orchard planted on the hillside behind the pool. “Way to make me feel like an asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Payne responded mildly. “We all live pretty independently.”

“Shit,” Ren muttered under his breath. “Give me a Cami report,” he ordered, referring to their younger half-sister, Campbell. “And I don’t want to hear that—surprise!—she’s married with a passel of children.”

“As if any of the Lemon progeny are eager for that state,” Payne said, “given that not one of us knows what a normal, healthy relationship looks like.”

Ren grunted. His brother had that right. “So, she’s what…?” Not much would surprise him, not after he’d realized that little Priss—Cilla—had actually grown up and now had a career.

“She runs one of my wrecking yards by day,” Payne said. “Getting gigs to sing by night.”

“Hmm.” Ren ran his fingertips over the yellow skin of a lemon as he breathed in the scent of their blossoms. That’s what Cilla had smelled like this morning, he realized. Citrus blossoms. He remembered that Gwen used to rinse the little girls’ hair with water infused with the tiny flowers and he wondered if Cilla continued the practice. “The wrecking yards doing okay?”

“I’m in my element.”

Ren knew that was true. His brother had been crazy for cars—and totaled a few—before he’d even had a driver’s license. They’d all learned to drive a golf cart around the seven-acre compound as soon as they could reach the pedals. Payne had convinced a handyman to strap blocks on them so he could crash and burn earlier than the rest.

“So how long are you staying?” Payne asked now.

“I don’t know that I am,” Ren said, grimacing. As much as a vacation sounded like an appealing idea, there was the issue of Cilla to consider. Finding her sharing the pillows had been a surprise, and a bigger shock came when he realized she’d gone from the coltish adolescent he remembered to a lovely, blue-eyed blonde with a tight body and an adorable tendency to blush.

It scared the hell out of him.

No, scratch that. His reaction to the succulent small package that was Cilla Maddox was what alarmed him. And the intensity of that alarm was only further alarming.

Shit.

She was too sweet for a man like him. Too good for what he’d wanted to do to her, with her, the minute he’d put his eyes on her. But her bare legs and the touch of her pink tongue to her lush upper lip had made him ache like a raw nerve. As much as he found her worry about seemliness amusing, she had a point.

Two single people, one a man, one a woman, sharing close quarters…

Too bad it sounded so damn tempting.

A crackling noise came over the line from Payne’s end. Likely the sound of him breaking into a package of his favorite breakfast of strawberry Pop-Tarts with sprinkles. “You came all this way just to take off again?” his brother asked around a mouthful of unhealthiness.

“Cilla’s here.”

“Yeah?” Payne munched again. “Cami ran into her at a club where she was playing a couple months back. She’s into costume design or something.”

“Mmm.” Ren swung around to glance at the cottage and his gaze instantly found the woman in question. She’d wandered out of the cottage too, and stood in a shaft of sunshine. It caught all the gold in her cap of wavy, bouncy hair. A pair of cropped jeans hugged her curvy hips. The outside seam on each side of light denim was embroidered in a dark blue pattern that was repeated on the straps of the sleeveless, peasant-y top she wore. The hippie-chic style suited her. A dozen narrow bracelets