Goosebumps spread over my body, which helped to dial back my nerve-o-meter from ten to eight.
By the time we’d walked down to the six-car garage, Dillon was leaning against his Camaro. I couldn’t help but grin at how he’d removed his ponytail and combed back his hair, making himself presentable. It wasn’t that he wasn’t before. Ponytail or not, he was handsome, even though his nose piercing and shoulder-length hair didn’t exactly match his lumberjack style of a plaid flannel shirt, T-shirt, and jeans.
Kelton ushered us up the stairs of the wooden deck, which led to a sliding glass door. When he opened it, heat and a spicy aroma filtered out.
I hesitated.
“We don’t bite,” he said. “And you have Dillon and me to make sure you don’t get swallowed up by my brothers.” He winked.
I wasn’t worried about his brothers. His father was the one that drove my nausea. I’d planned what I would say to him. However, at the eleventh hour, all those words I’d had in my brain—gone. Before I could back away or take a step forward, Kade sauntered up with a warm smile that had me walking into the bright and shiny gourmet kitchen.
“Lizzie, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot the other day.”
Before I could say a word, two Kelton lookalikes ambled in. One had massive arms filling out his plain black T-shirt. The other was also built but was smaller in the chest than both of the other triplets. Since I hadn’t seen them since Texas, I couldn’t tell which was Kross and which was Kody. At least with Kelton the scar on his chin gave him away.
Kelton came up behind me. “Kross is the boxer, hence the arms. Kody is the singer, songwriter, and amazing guitarist.”
Kody’s face lit up with a handsome smile.
“Glad you’re staying for dinner,” Kade said to Dillon. “Welcome.”
After the introductions and a hug from Kody, a young woman I remembered from the gala came in.
“You must be Lizzie,” she said. “I’m Lacey.” She threw her arms around me. “Glad you could make it.”
As soon as she let go, I needed some air. I felt like a celebrity in the middle of the paparazzi.
“Okay, everyone. Stop suffocating her,” Kelton said. “She’s not a new toy.”
I could be for Kelton.
“Kel, Mom and Dad would like to see you and Lizzie before dinner,” Kade said in an even tone.
My nerve-o-meter shot to ten. I guessed we should get it over with. Maybe then my stomach would settle enough so I could eat. Dillon blinked slowly as if to say you got this.
“Come on, Dillon. We can hang in the theater room in the basement,” Kade said, sounding like the commander of an army.
All the guys left except for Kelton. Lacey hung back for a second, angling her dark head as she swung her wide green gaze between Kelton and me. Then I remembered what Peyton had said. Lacey and Chloe were cousins.
“We’re not dating.” I didn’t know why I even said that. I didn’t care what Lacey or Chloe thought of me. I did like Chloe though. Which led me to my next thought. Was Chloe okay? I hadn’t seen her since I’d found her crying on Zach’s porch.
“Mmm,” Lacey said. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.” She whisked out of the kitchen like she had a newfound secret.
“What just happened?” I asked. “Are you in trouble with Chloe? Lacey and Chloe are cousins, right?”
“Let’s go see my parents. My mom has been dying to see you.” Kelton placed his hand on my lower back. “And, again, I’m not dating Chloe.” His fingers pressed through my jacket.
That might be true, but that girl in the hall before art class had given him a note. I tore my jealousy to shreds. It wasn’t the time to fret over a girl or note or Kelton Maxwell. We exited the kitchen into a wide hallway that fingered out in three directions. We headed straight toward a seven-foot wooden door with slim glass panes framing the sides. Dusk crawled across the sky in the distance while a soft glow spilled from the room to our left that Kelton was about to enter.
I shuffled behind him, fingering my earring. A bay window, tall ceilings, fabric furniture, a fireplace, and thick carpeting created a rich but cozy atmosphere, especially with the fire flickering from the stone fireplace on the back wall.
Mr. Maxwell rose from the loveseat like an aristocrat, confident and stoic. Mrs. Maxwell sat like a queen, her tiny hands on her lap, her long black hair flowing effortlessly around her, her porcelain skin barely made up, her red lips turned upward. Her blue gaze swung from her son to me. They were both older but still exactly as I remembered.
My heart rammed like a bulldozer plowing through rubble. Memories swept me from the room and back into the past.