Ten minutes later—after he’d helped Mr. Morgan finish putting up the sign—he was touring the cabin with Mrs. Morgan as if he hadn’t been there before. He’d sat at that table eating his oatmeal when Shelby had told him about how the news that Alex was his brother had slipped out. He’d walked up those stairs to the bedroom the first night and had found Shelby armed with a Taser and ready to take on a burglar. That rug was the one she’d lay back on, gorgeous and naked.

What in the hell was he doing here?

Mrs. Morgan looked up at him with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey?”

“I’m fine.” He tried to smile. Judging by the way she scrunched up her face and took a half step back, he didn’t quite make it happen. “Thanks for letting me rent the place.”

“And your friend?” Mrs. Morgan asked. “She’s not coming?”

He shook his head. Just the idea of her being in Harbor City while he was here should be a relief. It wasn’t. Instead, it hurt like a motherfucker.

“That’s too bad. I liked her.” Mrs. Morgan made a tsk-tsk sound. “Well, the electricity is back up and the cell people brought a new tower online, so service is a lot better. Oh, and we found that bottle of scotch of yours in the bedroom. I meant to send it to you but just kept forgetting. Looks like that worked out, though.” She started walking toward the door, still talking a mile a minute. “Our granddaughter is acting as the maid for the foreseeable future after what she pulled with using this as a party house, so if you need any messes cleaned up, you let me know.”

“I’ll be fine on my own.”

The words came out harsher than he meant, and Mrs. Morgan jerked to a stop, giving him an assessing look. “I’m sure you will be, but there’s no harm in changing your mind.”

He nodded as if those were some deep, prophetic words and walked her to the door. As soon as the SUV with all the Morgans packed inside pulled onto the highway, Ian opened the bottle of scotch and poured two fingers’ worth into a juice glass. He carried it over to the couch and stared at the unlit fireplace.

He was three drinks in, still sitting in silence staring at the empty grate, when his cell rang. Like an asshole, he answered without checking the caller ID first.

“Where in the hell are you?”

“Hello to you, too, Dad.”

The other man grumbled something under his breath. “Where are you?”

“In Buffly County.” It was a big place and he had no intention of giving his dad any more specifics than that.