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“Maybe you should’ve been looking at the phone instead of yelling at us,” Chase reprimanded as he reached for his cup of coffee.
“We did all the dirty work for you guys,” Killian said. “You can’t imagine how many shitty houses we saw in a single day.”
“It’s ten minutes from the clubhouse,” Mom said. “And it’s in a good school district.”
“Ember and Cole are going to private school,” I muttered.
“Who and who?” Smoke asked.
“Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t concern you,” I said with a shake of my head.
Smoke handed me the phone and I scrolled through the photos. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the server approach and my dad gestured that we needed another minute.
The house was gorgeous. Four bedrooms, three baths. Huge kitchen. Aside from needing new paint and our own personal touches, I couldn’t wait to see the space in person.
“What do you think?” Smoke asked.
“I think it’s a miracle the place hasn’t sold already,” I admitted.
“It’s not on the market yet,” Killian said.
I looked at him. “It’s not?”
“Slash and Brooklyn gave us their realtor’s number,” Mom said.
“Oh,” I said quietly.
Smoke settled his hand on my thigh underneath the table. “Well? You want to see it?”
“I—” Words lodged in my throat. Nodding, I gave Grady his phone back.
“I can make a call right now, if you want,” Grady said. “You can see it this afternoon.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Smoke lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
Mom let out a sigh.
“God, they’re staring at each other like they want to eat each other whole,” Harlan groaned. “Looks like you guys will have grandkids within a year.”
“There’s no rush,” Dad said, looking panicked.
“There’s a little bit of a rush,” Chase said with a wide grin. “Gotta get a move on before Smoke is eligible for the AARP discounts at the buffet.”
“Or needs a hip replacement,” Killian added.
“Or needs his prostate examined,” Dad said.
The entire table went silent.
Smoke looked at my dad and grinned. “Good one.”
My dad smiled.
“If we’re trading insults, can we at least do this over a pitcher of mimosas?” I asked.
“Mimosas? So, we have to trade intelligent insults?” Harlan asked.
