“Probably not.”
“Exactly. This parenting stuff is rough.” His expression turned serious. “Have you got something to tell me about you and Nick?”
“What are you, psychic?”
He scowled. “Are you shitting me? It’s true? You’re hooking up with him? He’s a great guy, Trix, but he lives in Maryland. Where can that possibly lead?”
“What? I am not hooking up with Nick.” But thanks to you, now I’m thinking about last night again. “Who told you that?”
“No one. I heard you two got a little too close on the dance floor last night.”
“Shane’s got a big mouth. We were talking, and if Shane hadn’t been so busy checking out Heather Ray, he would have seen Nick leave two hours before me.” Heather Ray was a buxom blonde with a reputation for being easy.
“Oh, sorry. It sounded like something was going on between you two.”
“Something is going on, but not what you think.” She stopped walking and put her hand on her hip. “But if I was hooking up with him or anyone else, that would be my business, not yours or Shane’s.”
“We’re just looking out for you.”
“Is that why you tag along with me sometimes when I make runs up that way? To make sure nothing is going on between us?”
“Nope.” He cocked a grin. “I go with you because we all know you head to Maryland to cut loose with Jilly at the bars.”
“So what? How is that any of your business? Besides, you know I stay at Nick’s. Do you really think I’d bring some random guy back there?” She stalked up the hill. “He’s as overprotective as you guys are.”
“You can’t tell me that you don’t roll into Nick’s place at two in the morning sometimes.”
“So?”
“So, everyone knows nothing good happens after midnight.”
She laughed. “Are you serious? You sound like Dad. You’re the one who used to say that everything good happened after midnight.”
“It still does,” he said arrogantly. “But I don’t want to think about you doing those things.”
“You’re an ass,” she said as they crested the hill. Brindle’s car and Jeb’s truck were in their parents’ driveway.
“What’s Jeb doing here?” Trace asked.
“I don’t know. He was talking with Dad in the yard about an hour ago.”
They headed into the rambling six-bedroom farmhouse. Trixie took comfort in the plaid living room couch and chair that had survived their childhood and the faded area rugs that she and her brothers used to roll up and push aside so they could slide in their socks across the wood floors. As they passed the stairs, she remembered tiptoeing down them to sneak out and meet her girlfriends in the middle of the night. One of her brothers usually caught her and dragged her back home, lecturing her the whole way. As annoying as that had been, she’d still had a great childhood, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
They followed the aroma of fresh-baked cookies toward the spacious kitchen. The table was set with a platter of sandwiches, their mother’s famous macaroni casserole, a large tossed salad, and their mother’s homemade dressing. Their father stood by the refrigerator, cradling Emma in his arms and chatting with Brindle. Jeb was leaning against the counter, eating a slice of watermelon, as their mother cut up the remaining fruit next to him.
Brindle’s smoky eyes brightened. “There’s my hubby!” She hurried over to Trace, looking cute in a pair of shorts and a flouncy pink top, her blond hair cascading past her shoulders.
“I missed you, babe.” Trace smooched his wife, and holding her hand, he made a beeline for his daughter. “Okay, old man, give me my baby girl.”
“I hope you’re hungry,” their mother said cheerily. Nancy Jericho was as sweet and upbeat as their father, Waylon, was tight-lipped and serious. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore one of the many simple sundresses she lived in all summer.
“I’m starved. Thanks for making my favorite cookies, Mom.” Trixie picked up a raspberry chocolate chip cookie from a cooling rack by the stove and took a bite.
“She made my favorite cookies.” Jeb snagged the cookie from her hand and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.
“Brat. I’ll just take these.” Trixie picked up a cooling rack and carried it to another counter across the room.
Brindle and their mother laughed.
“That’s my girl,” their father said. He was a big, thick-chested man, with more salt than pepper in his short hair and deep-set serious eyes that could silence all five of his children with a single stare. “How’d it go with Blossom, Trace? She give you any trouble?” Blossom was one of their older horses, and she had seemed out of sorts yesterday.
“She’s fine. She was just in a mood.” Trace sat at the table cradling Emma and pressed a kiss to her wispy dark hair.
Trixie heard the front door open seconds before JJ’s voice rang out. “I smell cookies!” His heavy footsteps closed in on them. “Y’all having a party without me?” He strode into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together as he eyed the food. “Looks like I’m right on time.”
“Is your fridge empty again?” Trixie teased. JJ worked long hours. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to show up to mooch a meal.
He cracked a grin as he took two cookies from the rack. “Nah. I got groceries the other day. I was on my way home from…uh…” He raised his brows, and their brothers chuckled.
“Seriously? You’re on a drive of shame and you came to Mom and Dad’s?” Trixie looked at Trace. “And you guys worry about me?”
“You’re a girl,” JJ said, dropping a kiss on Emma’s forehead.
“A tough girl who can handle herself and has enough self-respect not to do those things,” their mother said, turning her cheek up for JJ to kiss. “Hi, sweetheart. You know I don’t like you boys catting around.”
“Don’t worry, Ma. I wasn’t catting around. Y’all raised me right.” JJ slid into a chair and said, “Where’s Shane?”
“Right here.” Shane breezed into the kitchen. He kept his hair shorter than her other brothers, and he was the only one of them with tattoos decorating his arms. “I had to take a call.”
“From Heather?” Trixie arched a brow.
“Is there a romance brewing that I don’t know about?” Brindle asked, sitting down beside Trace.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Shane sat at the table and grabbed a sandwich.
“Yes, I would, actually,” Brindle said. “I like to be in the know.”
“Not me. Please keep those details to yourself.” Trixie sat down and dished macaroni casserole onto her plate and looked at Shane. “But if you don’t stop spreading rumors about me, I’ll be sure to spread some colorful ones about you.”
Shane’s irritated gaze shot to Trace.
“Don’t look at him. You know I didn’t leave with Nick last night,” Trixie snapped.
Their father slid one of his narrow-eyed stares to Shane—the one that worked like truth serum.