Free Second Chances by D.L. Roan

any hot showers for a while.”
    “Who’s your landlord?” Matt asked, reaching down to covertly adjust his raging hard on while she wasn’t looking. Much more of this and he’d need a cold shower, not that the last three he’d taken had helped any.
    “Uh…Dillon, I think. Drummond?” As long as Mason kept doing what he was doing, she had no hope in hell of pulling the right name from her deep fried brain cells. “Frank Somethingorother.” She hissed as he found another tender spot.
    “Frank Dryson?” Matt asked? “You rented his place over on Harvest Lane?”
    “That’s it.” She nodded. “You know him?”
    “He’s our cousin?” Mason chuckled. “Small world. We did the remodeling work on the kitchen for him.”
    “So you’re the ones I have to thank for that.”
    “You like it?” Matt asked, sliding his hand up between Mason’s to caress the back of her neck. He loved the silky feeling of her soft, curly hair. It wasn’t those frizzy, kinky type of curls that women paid to get with those perms. Hers were warm, fat, soft curls that fell around her face and flirted with her shoulders, giving her an angelic appearance.
    “Do I like what?” She slurred again, and slumped further against Mason, trapping Matt’s hand against his brother’s chest.
    Mason chuckled this time, moving his hands f rom her shoulders and wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her up as she relaxed against him.
    Claira shook off the lethargy his talented hands had induced and nodded. “It’s my favorite room. I’ll have to make you some fudge one day. The counters are perfect for it.”
    Call him a sexist pig if it fit, but Mason pictured Claira, bare feet and all, bending over to peer into their oven, the smell of something delicious filling the air as he and his brothers came in from a hard day on the ranch. Her hair mussed around her face and her cheeks flushed from the heat rolling from the oven. His chest ached as his picture of Claira mingled with memories of Sarah, but it wasn’t the painful squeeze he had expected. It was a fullness the likes of which he had never felt. Not even when his boys were born. Immediately he realized that it wasn’t just Claira. It was the hope that she brought to them. He had never let himself believe they would ever find what they had with Sarah, but now….
    Grinning what he knew was a stupid, silly grin, he pushed away from the railing and took Claira’s hand, pulling her toward the end of the porch. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.” Claira looked back at Matt, but he stayed where he was, waving them on.
    Matt knew where Mason was taking her. Mason always got that look on his face when he was thinking about some animal or another, especially horses and puppies. He’d let them have a few moment to themselves. As much as it pained him to let her go right now, to not touch her, he knew from experience the importance of them getting alone time with Claira. Even though they would be sharing equally in her life and love, they needed to build their own relationships with her, too. “You guys go ahead.” He waved them off. “I’ll help Grey get the boys settled into bed and meet you there in a few.”
    No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off them until the darkness swallowed their silhouettes and then moments later a soft glow of light filled the barn. He’d bet his last buck that Mason was trying to figure out how to talk her up the latter to the hay loft. He let out a chuckle as he reached for the door handle and pushed his way inside. The sooner he kicked Grey’s ass and got the boys in bed, the sooner he could join them.

Chapter Eight
     
    Self-loathing wasn’t something Grey was unfamiliar with, at least not lately. H oly hell, he needed his ass kicked for the way he had spoken to his boys downstairs. Hell, he’d kick his own ass if he could, but that wouldn’t erase the picture of Car and Con looking back at him as they climbed