So it was no surprise that she was curled up in bed with Nash when the outside world came knocking—literally—on her front door, in the form of his brother Macon and sister Bristol. While not exact copies of Nash, there was definitely a familial similarity with all three sharing killer dimples, the Beckett blue eyes, and enough height to make normal humans wonder what the world looked like from that perspective—even Bristol was six feet tall at a minimum. Of course, their looks weren’t all they had in common.

“Are you all named after cities?” Chelle asked after everyone had pet the dogs, attempted to greet the cat who ignored them, and was holding mugs of fresh-brewed coffee.

“The place of our conception,” Macon said, shrugging at Nash and Bristol, who both groaned. “Hey, if we have to be grossed out at the thought, I’m fine with sharing it.”

“Maybe you are, but I don’t mind keeping some of the mystery alive,” Bristol said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “Or at least keeping the ugh-factor at bay.”

Completely unruffled, Macon took another sip of his coffee as he shot an assessing look at Chelle and Nash. She sat on the chair where she’d looked at his sprained ankle the day they’d first met, while he sat on the arm of the chair, one huge hand cupping the oversize mug and the other touching her hair. For half a second, she fought that oh-shit-they-know embarrassment, the one that had always come with any hint of attraction that her dad would shame her for if he found out, and then she pressed back against the negative reaction. Instead of flinching, she allowed herself to relax against Nash’s hip. It was a move that didn’t go unnoticed.

Macon might have the look of a rich guy who had life handed to him on a silver platter—which come on, he was a Beckett, there was no way he hadn’t—but there was more going on behind his baby blues than a lot of folks probably gave him credit for.

“Well,” Bristol said, jabbing an elbow into Macon’s ribs to really drive home the stop-staring-asshole message her glare was sending, “we’ve left you alone long enough. We’re here to kidnap you and bring you and the animals to Mom’s for brunch.”

The mental image of her pugs having their usual bananas reaction to meeting new people and adding in the bonus—at least from the dogs’ perspectives—of a new place to sniff around and ferret out every crumb and thing that they definitely shouldn’t be chewing on was enough to make Chelle press her hand to her heart.

“I don’t know that they’re well behaved enough for that.” But she did know. They most certainly were not.

Instead of nodding in agreement, though, all of the Becketts started laughing.