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“Alright.” I shrug, continuing to follow behind her. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay playing hooky to spend the rest of the afternoon with me at the pool? I figured you’d have like… actual work to do or something? Don’t you have guests to check in?”

She quirks a brow at me over her shoulder. “Says the woman who’s still incredibly vague about her job.” She steps around the vintage couch and coffee table that fit my suite perfectly, tipping her head toward the door to the outside. “Also, it’s a Thursday. We’re basically dead until the weekend. Now, let’s enjoy the weather and some time at the pool like the good old days.”

My ring light and laptop are currently set up on the vintage desk, and my eyes fall to the duffel bag sitting on the floor next to it. I’d quickly stuffed a couple of dildos, my wand, a plug, and some outfits into it before the van got dropped off at the garage. I’ve been hesitant to ask about getting back into my van because I don’t want to make up excuses for why I need certain things from it. Doing so would mean asking Sly or Eddie, and that idea is completely and utterly mortifying. It’s not like I can walk up and say, ‘Hey, can you let me in the storage lot out back? I just came to grab another dildo. I promise I’ll only be a minute.’

So yeah, I’ve just avoided that scenario entirely because that part of my life is on a need-to-know basis, and no one in this town needs to know. As far as they’re concerned, I have a freelance, remote gig doing social media, and that’s how I want to keep it. The last thing I need in my life is to give the people of Sterling Springs another reason to hate me.

CHAPTER 11

SLY

Handyman

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had followed the path of my brothers. As much as I love Slade and Sutton, I never had an interest in becoming a chef because working in chaotic kitchens and putting up with the hellacious hours they seem to enjoy sounds like my own personal version of hell. I always enjoyed working with Dad, my Uncle Dan, and Grandpa on projects around the house or motel, and of course, the garage—so doing something with my hands for a career seemed inevitable. I preferred tools and cars, not knives and food.

It’s everything else that would have come with making the same choice they did that I find myself wondering about when I’m up late at night.

What if I had left town, like them, instead of staying here and working in the garage? Just because I wanted to work with my hands and fix things doesn’t mean I needed to stay here. What if I had done better in school and gone away to college? What if I’d made a different choice and chased her? What if I hadn’t been in the garage that night with Dad years ago? There are so many times I find myself wondering what if my life had played out differently.

Today, that exercise in masochism involves wondering what if I had pursued a career path other than being an auto mechanic? If I hadn’t stuck with the family business, would they have still asked me to double as the handyman at the motel? Probably, since I’ve always been naturally… well, handy.

That’s why I’m in the bathroom of Josie’s motel room, patching a hole in the drywall and reattaching the towel bar on a Thursday afternoon. Being good with tools and generally being a functional adult when it comes to fixing things is a valuable commodity—and probably how I drew the short end of the sibling stick.

Sutton is busy with his restaurant in Wyoming and starting a food truck catering business with his girlfriend. Slade is busy running himself ragged managing his two restaurants in Denver and Park City, and opening a third in Seattle. And of course, there’s Sisi, who runs the motel—with help from Cat and Mom, even though she’s mostly retired now—and unceremoniously sent me a text earlier that said: ‘come fix the towel bar in room fifteen. K? Thanks!’

It’s fixed now.

The next time Josie grabs for it, it won’t rip out of the wall, and she’ll be able to catch herself because I reinforced the studs behind the drywall. After cleaning up the mess and my tools, I walk back into the suite. Glancing around the room, I’m proud of the work my sister did with remodeling these rooms—the mix of new and vintage mid-century furniture she spent months sourcing, the art on the walls from local New Mexico artists.

Looking around suite fifteen on my way out, I notice there isn’t much of her stuff in here, at least where I can see it. Then again, I have no clue what she’s been up to.

In fact, I haven’t talked to her at all since I saw her at the bar. And that’s been honestly fine because I haven’t gotten over her touching my face. Breathing her in was intoxicating. Even in this room now—after she’s been here for almost two weeks—my senses are hit with that coconut and pineapple scent that I now know is her piña colada body wash—I saw the bottle sitting in the shower. Even breathing in the bathroom while I worked was enough to make my cock twitch more than once.

Thankfully, outside of the still lingering scent, the only real sign of Josie’s presence in this room is the desk with her laptop and ring light set up. I don’t actually know what she does. Sisi mentioned something about remote work and social media—two things I have zero fucking clue about. Based on her van, the tequila she was ordering, and the black card she was paying with, I think she’s doing well for herself. Knowing Josie, I’m sure she loves what she does because she was never one to just go through the motions. She never took the easy way out and wasn’t afraid to work hard.

The sight that’s waiting for me when I step outside might suggest otherwise. I walk the few steps from the motel room to the patio surrounding the pool, shaking my head the entire time.

Rather than working, I find my sister and Josie both neck deep in the pool, sipping drinks. Judging by the pitcher and salt rimmer on the patio table, it’s a safe bet they’re enjoying some margaritas.

Yeah, I definitely drew the short end of the sibling stick.

I walk over to the fence surrounding the pool and lean against it, clearing my throat loud enough to get their attention. “I see Mom is clearly the easier parent to work for.”

Josie doggy-paddles around to face me, but otherwise doesn’t pay me any more attention. Meanwhile, my sister doesn’t bother to face me. She flops on her back to float in the water while extending one hand into the air to give me the bird while somehow still managing to hold her drink. I almost laugh because it’s about the most Josie thing she could decide to do.

Those two are already acting like they did in high school. Watching them takes me back to those days when things were simple, and I thought I knew how my life would play out. I thought Josie would be there for me because we were obsessed with each other, and it felt like our endgame.

Since she’s been here, she’s been anything but interested in me. Outside of that moment at the bar, she’s teetered between total indifference in my presence to outright irritation and annoyance.

“Real mature,” I mutter, shaking my head. I should probably be nicer.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game. You never shut up about cars, so they gave you exactly what you wanted.” She waves her arms in the water, turning herself until she’s finally facing me.

I note the ear-to-ear smile plastered to her face—she looks happy, like a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders. Since her piece of shit fiancé ditched her, I haven’t seen my sister as excited as she has been the last week and a half. I was never a fan of Jared. He just didn’t seem right for Sisi, and when he skipped town on their wedding day, I hated how she lost her spark. She looks more like her normal, perky self, something I know is almost entirely due to Josie’s presence.

“Is there anything else you need done? I should get back to the garage. You know, to do my actual job.”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t.”