Wrong Place, Wrong Time
“She was concentrating on twisting her still-damp hair into a French braid and simultaneously zipping up her boots, when she stumbled into the kitchen.
Spotting her brother and father, she came to a halt. “Hi.” She noted their dour expressions, and her stomach knotted. “Is Mom okay?”
“She’s fine,” Lane assured her.
“Then why is Monty here at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning? And why are you both glaring at your coffee like it’s poison?”
“I’m running interference,” Lane supplied.
“And I’m waiting for you.” Monty set down his cup with a thud. “Have a late night?”
“Excuse me?”
“What time did you get in?”
“I already answered that one, Monty,” Lane reminded him, looking more amused than annoyed. “Three seventeen. Give or take a minute.”
“You time-stamped my arrival?” Devon asked in amazement.
“Hey, waiting up is what big brothers do.”
“I don’t believe this.” Devon finished braiding her hair, then opened the cabinet and reached for a mug.
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