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especially with Hunter not being around.

We trudge up the steps with all our bags and I take in the full scope of this massive house, recalling the word Dane used for it, the word on the sign at the end of the road—manor. It’s as grand as it is intimidating.

Very.

I’ve just made it up the last step when the massive double doors swing open, and we’re met by the smiling face of who I can only assume is West’s grandfather. He looks nothing like I expected. Mostly because my dumb-ass could only picture him as Colonel Sanders for some stupid reason. Who I see instead is a man I can tell was pleasantly handsome in his day, although I see none of West or his brothers’ looks mirrored in his. They’re spitting images of their father, but luckily inherited nothing else from that prick.

Mr. Landry is at eye level with West, which means he’s well over six feet, and his bald head appears to be a style choice, as opposed to nature’s doing. He’s fit for a man his age, which is easy to see with the nice button-down he’s wearing tucked neatly into his khaki slacks. Looking him over as he first takes in the sight of his boys, I note that the gray goatee is about the only thing Colonel Sanders-esque about him.

“Well, aren’t you three a sight for sore eyes,” he belts out with a smooth southern drawl. Dane’s already in this giant’s arms, enduring what looks like a painful bearhug.

“I missed you too, but my ribs just healed from last time,” Dane jokes.

“Aw, suck it up, boy,” Mr. Landry counters, shoving Dane aside to grab Sterling this time, squeezing him the same way.

Beside me, Scar grins behind her hand.

“Good to see you,” Sterling says with a groan, drawing in a deep breath of relief once released from his grandfather’s grasp.

“Your turn, kid,” he greets West, bringing him in for the same rough hug.

“Mom sends her love,” West says once he’s free.

“Next time bring her with you,” Mr. Landry replies. “But you know my rule. Don’t bring your—”

“Slick-ass daddy to this door,” West says in unison with him. “I know, Grandpa.”

Apparently, this is something West hears often.

Now, Mr. Landry’s attention is on us girls.

“What on God’s green Earth are three pretty little things like yourselves doing with these knuckleheads? You boys bribe em’?” he asks, turning to his grandsons then.

“Grandpa, I’d like you to meet Blue and Scarlett Riley,” West says, placing his hand at the small of my back.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Landry,” I say.

“Call me Boone,” he insists, correcting me with a wave of his hand. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

He places a light kiss on the back of my hand and Scar’s, instead of the bear hugs we witnessed a moment ago.

“And this is Joss,” Dane says next.

Boone looks her over. Not in a creepy, ‘what’s on the menu?’ sort of way. Just a general glance as he takes in how gorgeous she is. She’s taken her braids down since I last saw her, choosing to rock her natural, spirally ringlets for the trip.

“Pleasure meeting you, too, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her hand in the same manner as he did with me and Scar. “You must be something special if you managed to tame this rascal.” He points at Dane then, which has Joss scrambling.

“Oh, we—we’re… not together,” she stammers, which seems to confuse Boone.

When he shoots Dane a look, I’m certain he’s about to get called out.

“If you haven’t locked this one down, you’re either blind or dumb. Even West managed to get himself a lady.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” West says with a laugh.

“Well, you know what I’m talkin’ about! Just a month or two ago you pissed a girl off so bad she vandalized your uniform. Now, look at you. You’ve got yourself settled down.”

West and I share a look, trying not to laugh. “This is, uh… the same girl,” he confesses.

That look of confusion returns to Boone, but then it morphs into a grin.

“I knew I liked you,” he says, while wagging a finger at me. “West needs someone who’s gonna put the fear of God in him. At least we know you can hold your own.”

West’s brow shoots up when he agrees with a nod.

“Now, y’all get inside before you have my neighbors thinking I’m a bad host.”

The man doesn’t have a neighbor for miles.

We step in onto a large, fancy rug, and I have to pick my jaw up off the floor. Beautifully polished wood floors, a vintage chaise situated beneath a large, gold-framed mirror, painted portraits I guess to be family, a chandelier the size of a Buick hanging over our heads. It’s a lot to take in. In a good way. A phrase comes to mind—old money.

“Misty should be around here someplace. She’s supposed to see you kids to your rooms,” Boone says distractedly, peering around a corner, seemingly in search of this Misty he speaks of.

“It’s cool, Grandpa. We know the way,” Dane chimes in.

“Well, I suppose you do. Just make sure you put the girls in the white room. It’s the best we’ve got.”

“On it.”

“And don’t dilly dally when you get done, either. Duke’s dropping off a few sacks of crawfish for tonight’s boil. That man’s back’s about twenty years older than he is, so I told him you boys would be here to help,” Boone explains.

“Of course, you did,” Dane grumbles.

“Damn right, I did! What’s the point in running that football up and down the field if it ain’t earned you some muscles! Not only will you help him, you’ll do it with a smile on your face. Now, get flip with me again and I’ll knock your ass into next Tuesday. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Despite Boone’s harsh tone, it’s clear he isn’t serious, which is why Dane takes the threat in stride, laughing as he grabs Joss’s things. He leads the way, ascending the staircase. I reach for my own luggage, but West intervenes, using

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