“Fuck off. That’s the story of your life and you know it. Everyone ends up getting tired of your shit eventually,” the Jackson guy continued so angrily it finally triggered Mac’s growl.

If I hadn’t overheard the conversation Dallas had with the woman in the sedan who may or may not have been his wife, I would have no idea what he was talking about. But I did hear it. And the comment had me feeling defensive of this poor man who might be a gigantic asshole to the people who should have been the most important in his life, for all I knew. But still, harsh, much?

Jackson raised a middle finger as he walked by his brother and pressed the front of it against Dallas’s forehead as he walked by. What the hell was wrong with this man? And my neighbor, the real one, didn’t move an inch as his brother did that. He kept those hazel eyes locked on the other man even as he disappeared up the driveway for a moment before the loud roar of a motorcycle filled the air. Before I knew it, a beefy Harley was getting rolled down the driveway—where the hell was that thing parked? In the backyard?—the person behind the handles wearing the same clothing Jackson had on a second ago. Then he was gone.

That was interesting.

Unsure what I was supposed to do, I just stood there. Awkward. Maybe he wouldn’t notice I’d listened to everything said between them. A girl could dream.

And that was exactly what didn’t happen because the man named Dallas turned his attention to me.

Of all the things I could have said or asked, I went with, “Are you the older brother or the younger one?” before I could stop myself.

I didn’t realize how offended someone could get over that question until after it came out of my mouth. If someone had asked if Rodrigo was the younger one, I would have slapped them.

He let out a noise in his throat as he glanced in the direction his brother had disappeared to and shook his head.

That said more than enough.

Luckily, after a moment or three, my neighbor settled for blinking down at me with that remote expression on his face. What did he think I was trying to do? Get information to steal his identity? “Older,” he finally answered.

“Ahh.” That explained everything. I would like to think it was because I didn’t know him that I said, “I’m sure my older brother wanted to kill me a few times in his life.” I could probably count at least fifty different occasions when he would have wanted to shake me at some point. God, I missed him. “That’s family for you.”

Something about that must have been the wrong thing to say because the dark-haired man shrugged like he was shaking off something he didn’t like, his gaze darting to Mac quickly. “Make sure to be careful with him running off. We don’t get a lot of traffic, but shit happens,” the rough-voiced man warned me, forcing the smile off my face.

I didn’t know why his concern irritated me from one second to the next, but it did. “Yeah. I will.” Did he think I was stupid and didn’t know that?

“Buttercup!” Louie yelled from across the street where he was standing on the front lawn, waving me over violently.

I waved back at him before turning to my neighbor one last time, trying to tell myself I didn’t need to get annoyed with his suggestion about keeping better track of Mac. He probably hadn’t meant anything condescending by it. “I should get going. Thanks for—” I pointed in the direction that his brother had gone in. “I don’t know what I did to make him mad, but see you.”

He took my leaving instantly, that sharp, serious face making a dismissive sound but I didn’t miss the way his gaze slid back in the direction of his house. “You didn’t do anything.” His attention shifted to the five-year-old waiting impatiently on the lawn and stayed there for a moment. “Later.”

I smiled at him. “See ya.” Tugging on Mac’s collar, we took a few steps toward the street before I used my grown-up voice on the stubborn-ass and whispered into his floppy ear, “The things I do for you.”

With his head turned over his shoulder, he gave me that silly dog grin of his that erased every frustration I felt toward him. He followed me across the street without a single problem, where the boys were waiting and watching.

“What are you doing standing around? That’s not what I pay you for,” I called out to them.

Louie gaped before asking his brother, “She pays us?”

* * *

“Son of a bitch.”

From her spot inside the break room, I heard, “Did you cut yourself?”

I shook my head, not bothering to see if Ginny had peeked out at my words or not. My eyes were laser-focused on the e-mail I’d just gotten. “No. I just got the schedule for Josh’s baseball team. They want to bump practices up to three times a week. Three times a week. Like four hours during the school week isn’t enough on top of him already going to batting and catcher practice. When am I supposed to have an afternoon to poop in peace?”

“Diana!” Ginny laughed, her voice getting louder, telling me she either had stuck her head out or she’d walked out.

“Who agreed to this?” I asked myself more than her. Practice three times a week and tournaments twice a month minimum. Jesus Christ. At this rate, I was going to need to buy a sleeping bag and just camp out at the facility every day.

“One of my cousins,” she sacrificed them both. “It’s that bad?”

“Yes!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her approach me with a bowl of whatever she’d brought for lunch. “Why don’t you call Trip or one of the other coaches and complain? You can’t be the only one thinking about buying real estate by the field if it’s that bad.”