Like father, like son, she supposed.
While everyone talked, she sat and sipped her drink, looking out over the porch and onto the land. What an amazing feeling that must be for Lydia and Easton to have all this land, to know they could walk or drive for miles and still not see the end of what was theirs. She had been impressed enough with Grant’s house in St. Louis. The property had been huge, especially the expanded woodland area with the surprise pond located beyond the woods.
This, however, was spectacular. She couldn’t imagine having something like this, an oasis to shut yourself off from the world, but also spacious enough to welcome as many guests as you wanted.
She’d always been content in New York. It had suited her purposes, business-wise. It had everything she needed or wanted. But now it was starting to feel closed in to her.
Which was ridiculous, of course. She’d be fine once she got back home.
Easton opened the front door. “Steaks are ready, honey.”
Lydia stood. “Okay. Let’s go have some dinner.”
Just as they were about to head inside, a dark SUV came flying up the driveway, dust flying in its wake. It slammed to a halt out front.
A tall, very muscular dark-haired man came out.
“Figures you’d show up just as dinner was being served,” Lydia said.
He pulled off his dark sunglasses and came up the stairs, wrapping Lydia in a hug. “You know me, Mom. And it’s good to be home.”
He turned away from his mother only long enough to hug his sister.
“Brat,” he said.
“Smartass,” she replied. “Good to have you home again.”
“Flynn,” Lydia said. “This is Katrina Korsova, Grant’s girlfriend. And this is Katrina’s sister, Anya.”
Girlfriend. She didn’t know how she felt about that, but she didn’t have time to think about it because Flynn took her hand and shook it.
“So, my brother’s the first of us to bring a woman home to meet Mom and Dad, huh? Nice to meet you, Katrina. You too, Anya.”
“Flynn,” Katrina said.
“Hey, Flynn,” Anya said, grinning the whole time.
“Well, come on,” Lydia said. “Let’s go eat before those steaks get cold.”
“Nice of you to have dinner on the table just as I got here. I’m starving,” Flynn said, putting his arm around his sister and walking inside behind their mother.
“Wow,” Anya said, inching close to Katrina, stopping her as everyone else headed into the dining room. “Is every Cassidy brother that good-looking?”
“They’re all too old for you, Anya,” Katrina said.
“I know that. But that doesn’t mean I can’t ogle the goods. And maybe drool over them a little. Flynn is all lean muscle and dark hair and those eyes. Such an intense green. Gah. I need to take a picture of him to send to Leah. I need to take pictures of all of them. I wonder what Barrett looks like? Maybe I can get a group pic?”
Katrina shook her head and grabbed her sister’s hand. “I think you need to stick to boys your own age.”
Anya made a face. “Bleh. I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m just enjoying the eye candy.”
Sometimes, Katrina wondered about her sister. Seventeen and she hadn’t had a boyfriend yet. She’d gone out on a few dates, but mostly in groups with a bunch of friends, which Katrina had thought was just fine.
Maybe it was time to encourage her sister to spread her wings a little.
She paused behind everyone else as they all entered the dining room. What was she thinking? A few weeks ago she’d have been deliriously happy to have her little sister stay boyfriend-free. Now she wanted to encourage her to date?
Katrina was twenty-seven and had just had sex for the first time. She was doing just fine. So was Anya.
“You know what, Anya? You’re right. You don’t need a boyfriend. Not anytime soon.”
She needed to reevaluate her priorities, and fast.
Clearly, Grant was not a good influence on her.
And speaking of Grant, as they entered the room he came around the table and put his arm around her waist.
“I see you met Flynn.”
“I did. He showed up outside just as we were getting up to come in for dinner.”
“How timely of him. His stomach has a clock. He knows when a meal is being served.”
Flynn came down the hall. “Oh, and you don’t? You eat more than Tucker and me combined.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Before this devolves into another one of your infamous hot dog eating contests,” Easton said, taking his spot at the far end of the table. “Let’s sit down to eat.”
“I’d like to hear about the hot dog eating contest,” Leo said.
Leo had taken a seat across from Easton, who motioned with his head down the table. “Ask Grant. He was usually the instigator.”