She strode to the door and wrenched it open, then jumped back so fast, she hit the wall behind her. “You…you…”
Cameron looked blearily up at her. Holly Masterson rushed to drag a sheet over herself. Neither one of them was dressed—not at all—and Holly’s blond hair stuck out wildly, like she’d been caught in a wind tunnel.
Anger sparked an inferno in Faith’s chest. “Wow, Holly. You might want to redo your hair before you go downstairs. Then again, Cam always overuses his hands. That’s why he fumbles whatever he catches.”
Cameron’s face turned bright red. He dragged a pillow into his lap and sat up. “As if you’d know. We never made it past second base. I got sick of waiting.”
Disgusted, she turned to go. “Screw you. Or better yet, screw her. We’re done.”
She slammed the door behind her and stomped downstairs, managing to make it to the guest bathroom before she burst out laughing and crying at the same time.
Chapter Five
Kyle
Kyle’s alarm went off early. He’d promised Mrs. Gladwell he’d come over around ten, but he had two lawns to mow first. He must be the only dumbass getting up at seven on the first day of spring break.
He shoved back the covers, marveling at the bruise on his right side. Dennings’s pitching speed was getting much better, but his control still needed work. That little love tap yesterday left a mark.
After rolling from bed, he staggered through a shower, then dressed in old cargo shorts and a T-shirt. By the time he made it downstairs, Grandpa already had coffee going, and Dad was reading The Wall Street Journal—a paper copy.
“Dad, are you ever going to get an electronic subscription? I bought you an iPad for Christmas, remember?” Kyle asked, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “You’re killing trees, buying that thing.”
“Electronic newspapers don’t read the same.” Dad never looked up from the stock pages. “You off to work?”
“Yep, and I’m seeing a new customer this morning.” He snagged a cinnamon oatmeal muffin from the plate Grandpa had set out before heading to the table. “That makes twelve.”
“Really?” Dad put his paper down. Pride sparkled in his eyes. “I’m impressed.”
“You should go to landscape design school after you graduate,” Grandpa said in his craggy voice. “Traditional college isn’t for you.”
Dad sighed, but Kyle felt a surge of gratitude. The idea of getting a degree in business or finance, or even general studies, sounded so daunting when held up against his dyslexia. Taking the SAT had made him feel like throwing up, and his score wasn’t good for anything but laughing at. No, college wasn’t for him. Especially when he didn’t need a degree. “I like the sound of that.”
“But—” Dad started, but Grandpa waved him off.
“Dean, I know you think college is the way to go, but I didn’t go to college and I built up a multimillion dollar company with a band saw and some elbow grease. I built this kitchen table, and a thousand more just like it. Let the kid do what he’s good at.” Grandpa chuckled. “Lord knows he needs an honest living. Those young people who do nothing but party and spend up their parents’ money their whole lives irritate the shit out of me.”
Kyle laughed, especially when his dad gave Grandpa a sour look. The three of them, around the kitchen table, looked like a past, present, future picture of one man. Dad had inherited Grandpa’s dark hair, blue eyes, and height—and Kyle had inherited his Dad’s. One now completely gray, one silver-streaked, and one as dark-haired as the crows cawing in the backyard. Despite that, they were pretty different people. Grandpa was an old-fashioned businessman who could sell you a handful of illegally picked bluebonnets. Dad was the finance whiz, investing the money after Grandpa sold the company, making them a fortune his grandkids couldn’t outspend.
Some days Kyle wasn’t sure where he fit in that picture.
His good mood soured a little. “I better get to work.”
“Home by seven? Rosanna left us a King Ranch casserole for dinner.”
He waved as he went out the garage door. Their housekeeper always made them food for the weekends, worrying that “her men” would eat Chinese takeout if she didn’t provide.
She was probably right.
Ever since Mom and Grandma died, the house had slowly unraveled into a bachelor pad, and Rosanna had her work cut out for her just trying to stem the tide. Kyle had only been three when they’d gotten in the car accident and he didn’t remember much about it, taking his life with Dad and Grandpa totally for granted.