Not willing to spill any of the confusion swirling inside him, he dipped his head in a nod and with a, “I’ll go see if he needs any help and ride over with him,” he stalked toward the kitchen and the driveway that reached around the back of the house.
Maybe physical labor would ease some of the tension riding him. Besides, he was looking at, what? Three hours of work at the most? He could assist in transporting food and unpacking Sydney’s belongings without it being a big deal.
In and out. Hell, he could be back at his house by early afternoon, his original weekend plans resumed.
Not a problem.
* * *
HE HAD A PROBLEM.
“Why can’t Moe or Sinead get the rooms ready?” Cole demanded of Leontyne, thrusting his hand through hair that no longer existed on his head. Damn, after almost two years, he still wasn’t used to not having longer curls. Instead, he scrubbed his palm over his head, the soft, short strands grazing his skin. “Or I can go, and you can stay here.”
Dammit, he sounded panicked. Panicked and desperate. If the anxiety kicking a hole in his gut wasn’t enough of a clue, the worried glances Leo and Wolf exchanged would’ve been a huge red flag.
“So let me get this straight,” Leo said slowly, as if talking to a child—or someone unstable. “You—who hasn’t actually worked at the inn in the last seven years—should return to air out and ready the rooms for an unexpected influx of last-minute guests? Rather than me, who runs the place every day along with Moe and Dad? ’Cause, y’know, it’s my job. Sounds legit.” She shrugged a shoulder. God, who knew a half shrug could carry so much attitude? She lanced him with a narrow-eyed stare that was eerily reminiscent of their mother’s. “And to answer your other boneheaded and insensitive question, Moe’s already starting to prep food for dinner and Sinead is manning the front desk since Moe let Cher go hang with her friends and Florence pulled another shift at Six Ways to Sundae. So that leaves me and Carrie to ready the guest rooms,” she explained, mentioning the young woman the family employed as a part-time maid. “And yes, I need Wolf to drive me back since, as you know, I rode here with Sydney. Now. Any more questions?” She arched an eyebrow, popping her hands on her hips, her vibe fairly screaming, Go ’head and ask one more thing. I dare you.
No thanks.
Leontyne might be twenty-seven, but she was a Moe mini-me. And he’d prefer to keep the remainder of the ass he had left after that nice-nasty chewing out.
“What’s the problem with you staying here?” Wolf asked, driving straight to the heart of the matter. Damn him. “I thought you and Sydney were friendly back in the day.”
“We were, and there is no problem,” Cole objected, and tasted the grime of the lie on his tongue. “For God’s sake, can you two stop doing that?” he snapped when his siblings exchanged another glance. “It’s creepy as hell and just rude. I said I have no issue staying to help Sydney settle in, and I don’t.”
His vehemence and show of affront did nothing to erase the skepticism from their expressions. And being the Dennisons that they were, neither tried to hide it.
“First, you damn near bit my head off yesterday after mentioning how sexy she used to be—”
“Eww, Wolf.” Leo screwed up her face. “Gross. She was a teenager.”
“Again. She. Was. Legal.” He scowled at Leo before refocusing on Cole. “As I was saying, you bit my head off, and now you’re acting like Sonny does when he’s trying to get out of eating okra—”
“In his defense, who doesn’t want to get out of eating okra?” Leo interjected.
“If you’re not going to be a contributor to this conversation, I’m going to put you in time-out in my truck,” Wolf threatened their sister.
Her lips turned down in a pout that would’ve done the twins proud. “I’m a grown-ass woman. You can’t put me in time-out like I’m a child... But fine,” she grumbled. “Wolfgang has a point, though,” she said, her voice rising over his ominous rumble at the use of his full name. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be alone with Sydney? Did she somehow offend you in the eight years she’s been gone or the two and a half hours you’ve been in her presence today?”
“They saw each other last night.”
Leo jerked her head toward Wolf at his revelation, her lips forming a perfect O on a sharp gasp. “Shut. Up.”
“Nope, I think he was the first person to see her when she returned to town. He’s the one who told me she was pregnant,” the gossiping rat bastard supplied.
“You knew before me? That’s such a violation of the girl code! Why didn’t you mention anything?” Leo asked, her head whipping back to Cole. “Did something happen between you two?” An avaricious gleam entered the gray-blue eyes she’d inherited from their father. Dad’s eyes only glittered like that when he talked about football, fishing and his wife. Gossip, drama and a sale at the local farmer’s market put it in his sister’s, and since he wasn’t presenting her with half-off tomatoes, he had to guess it was the whiff of a story to carry back to his mother and sisters that had her stare practically glazed over.
Fucking Wolf and his big mouth.
“Because there’s nothing to tell and no,” Cole said through gritted teeth.
“Uh-huh.” Leo squinted at him. “Say what you want, but I’m definitely getting a ‘there’s something to tell’ vibe.”
Cole sighed. “I’m going back in now.” He turned around and headed back up the short walk that led to the cottage’s front door.
“Only the guilty flees when no one pursues,” she sang behind him. Now she was quoting Proverbs. Brilliant.
He held up his arm and let his middle finger do his talking.
Bellows of laughter rolled after him, and though his brother and sister were annoying, he couldn’t stop his lips from curling. Not that he would turn around and let them see, though. That would just encourage them.
“Is that your mayoral finger?” Wolf snickered.
“We should take a picture and—”
Cole opened Sydney’s front door, stepped inside and closed it on his sister’s reply. He wrote a mental note to himself. Confiscate Leo’s cell later tonight and make sure she hadn’t snapped a picture of his one-finger salute. He didn’t put it past her to print copies and post them up at city hall right next to the First Presbyterian Church flyer for their annual clothing bazaar.
“Sorry about tha—” Cole’s apology broke off when he spotted Sydney in the small kitchen. “Stop. What are you doing?” he barked, rushing through the living room toward her. The layout of her cottage mirrored his, and he maneuvered the space quickly, reaching her within seconds. Without thinking, he cupped her waist, steadying her on the short stepladder where she was perched. “Sydney, the hell? Get down. Carefully.”