“Sure did. We made good time. The rest of the supplies should be delivered by one thirty, and we’ll be back at it.” Tobias nodded to an old black Trans Am parked by Preacher’s truck. “Whose ride is that?”

“She’s mine. Reba got sick of her taking up space in the garage, so I had her towed over this morning.”

“It doesn’t run?”

“Nah. I’ve been tinkering with her, trying to figure out why. It might be about time to rebuild the engine.”

“I can take a look at it if you’d like. I’ve been working on cars since I was a teenager.”

Preacher crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Are you kidding? That’s a dream car right there. It’d be an honor to work on it.”

Preacher looked at the car with reverence. “She was my first car. I bought her when I was seventeen.”

Tobias smiled, shaking his head. “At seventeen I was walking two miles to and from work each day. I’d be happy to take a look. I’ve got something to take care of right now, and I’m having dinner with Mads and my grandfather tonight, but I could take a look tomorrow after work.”

“I’d really appreciate that. How’s your grandfather doing?”

Tobias shrugged. “About as well as can be expected. He’s got Alzheimer’s, and he has more bad days than good, but he’s still here, and I’m thankful for that. Mads is working with him this afternoon.”

“That’s a rough road. If you, or he, need anything at all, you let us know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. Well, I’d better get going. I don’t want to be late coming back and piss off the boss.”

“Smart man,” Preacher said with a nod as Tobias headed over to his motorcycle.

TOBIAS MIGHT NOT be able to fix his own shitty situation with his family, but he sure as hell could try to make things right for Madigan. He walked into Cape Stone, his gaze sweeping over impressive stone fountains, pillars, fireplaces, and other design displays as he made his way through the showroom. Maverick was on the phone at the counter and lifted his chin in acknowledgment.

Tobias nodded and took a few steps away just as Blaine came out a door in the back. His hair was tousled and his expression casual—for about three seconds before he spotted Tobias closing the distance between them, and it iced over.

Blaine crossed his arms, looking a lot like his old man, except he looked down his nose at Tobias. “Riggs.”

Tobias wasn’t dissuaded. “You got a minute?”

“For?”

“A conversation.”

Blaine’s jaw clenched. “We’ve got nothing to converse about.”

“Is Madigan no longer important to you?” It was a dig, but he needed to shake Blaine up to get him to talk.

Blaine glowered but didn’t respond.