“Just a couple of siblings having a sleepover?” She sniffled, and he handed her a paper towel from the roll he’d put next to the mason jars.

“Remington, sometimes men say stupid things. Not because it’s the truth, but because they wish it was.”

“That’s Brick speak for either you wish I was your sister or you wish you thought of me as a sister,” she said, those green eyes sweeping him from head to toe. He felt the heat of her curious perusal like it was a caress.

“I’m not answering that. But you are staying tonight so I don’t have to worry about you.”

“Fine,” she said, noisily blowing her nose. “But only because I know you hid my boots somewhere and I’m too tired to tear your house apart looking for them.”

“Good girl. Now let’s go draw a marker mustache on Spence,” he said, plucking her off the table.

She grinned up at him and then froze. “Hey. Did I say anything about butt bongos the other night?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

“Damn it. I was afraid of that.”

He watched her take one last look around the room before she headed up the ramp into the house. He had a lot of complicated feelings. One of them stood out more than the others. She’d told him the truth. But he was damn sure there was more to the story than she’d shared.

17

The power kicked back on just after nine a.m., waking Brick on his own living room floor. He was on his side, facing the couch. His right arm was stretched above him, hand holding on to something warm and smooth. Bleary-eyed he raised his head and realized he was gripping Remi’s milky white thigh where it jutted out from the blanket.

Jesus. Even in his sleep he was a possessive bastard over the woman who would never be his. Her skin was so warm and soft.

Her full lips gently curved as if something in her sleep amused her. Her lashes were long and delicate. Skin a translucent shade of pale. She still had that scattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks.

He wanted mornings like this. Craved them with a hunger that hollowed him out. He wanted to wake up in this house to watch her sleep. He wanted Remi’s face to be the last thing he saw at night before he shut his eyes, the first thing he saw when he opened them. He wanted her laughter echoing throughout the house.

But he couldn’t have that. Couldn’t have her. He wished fiercely that knowing that would make the want, the need finally go away.

A twist of red hair fell over her forehead, causing her to frown. In her sleep, she batted it back and mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out.

Even asleep she didn’t remain peaceful.

She gave another little jolt, jerking her broken arm. Her fingers found his hand on her leg and squeezed.