Caz was flirting, and the pretty woman had just plopped down in his lap. No surprise. His brother had a lethal charm. “Caz is upfront that he has no intention of finding the right woman. His women know that a few hours or days is the extent of his desire.”

Grayson shook his head. “Eventually, that practice will come back to haunt him.”

“It’s served him well so far.” On the other hand, now that Gabe had Audrey, he knew how much…joy…his brothers’ lives lacked.

“So far is not forever.” Grayson turned to watch three PZs climbing into a pickup. “Interesting. Religious militia?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gabe watched the pickup drive away. “There’s nothing I can do about them…yet.”

“Indeed.” Grayson’s eyes narrowed, and his smooth voice took on an edge. “Let me know if you need help when the time comes.”

With the offer, Gabe remembered Zachary Grayson held a doctorate in psychology. “I will. Thanks, Doc.”

Grayson squeezed Gabe’s shoulder before rising. He motioned toward Caz. “I think it’s time for a chat with your brother.”

Gabe studied him. Over the years, Grayson had come to check on the boys at Mako’s old cabin at least once a year. He’d spent time talking with them, listening, counseling. Helping.

“About those chats of yours.” Gabe held out his hand. “I don’t think I ever said it as a kid, but…thanks.”

Grayson took his hand. “You’re very welcome.” Without another word, he strolled away.

Look out, Caz. Gabe grinned and drank more of his beer.

Over at the stage, Hawk picked up his fiddle, looked around, and headed toward Gabe. The sun highlighted the sleeves of tattoos running up his arms. Seemed like he’d added some new ones.

When a bevy of young women skittered out of Hawk’s path like startled grouse, Gabe frowned. Admittedly, his scarred-up brother had a daunting appearance, but he was a good man. Why didn’t women ever see that?

It’d been good to have him home. To hear the fiddle again. To fight together. Filled a hole, dammit.

“Which beer are you drinking?” Hawk settled on top of the picnic table, his feet on the bench.

“Beartooth.” Gabe held the bottle up for him to sample.

Hawk took a swallow. “Eh. Nope.”

They’d never liked the same beers—Gabe enjoyed malt, Hawk was more into hops. Hell, they didn’t agree on much, really.

Gabe nodded at the fiddle. “You’re not going to play more tonight?”

“Heading out.” Hawk stared at the water where two kayakers silently skimmed along beside the shore.

Gabe turned to face him. “Back to the merc outfit?”

“No. Quit.” That was Hawk. Never use three words where two would serve.

“Then…”

“Not sure.”

“You have a house here. Things to do. Mako left the trust to all of us, you know.”

“I know.”

“Be nice if you stayed.”