Page 83 of From the Start

I step closer and lower my voice. “Do I need to demonstrate again how much of a sexy demon I am?”

Her eyes flare and she bites her lower lip. “Maybe?”

I groan. “You are a temptress, Slugger. But the sexy times will have to wait. We’re expected at Mom’s house in fifteen minutes.”

“We were going to meet you there.”

“You’re cute.” I tweak her nose before pushing past her into the house. “Henry, my man, are you ready to eat your weight in potato salad with a side of hamburger and hot dogs?”

He perks up. “Let’s go.”

I chuckle as I roll his wheelchair over to him. “Hop in. Your chariot awaits.”

“Hold on,” Harper says. “I told you we can meet you at the barbecue.”

“Why would we do a fool thing like that?” Henry asks. “Your boyfriend has a nice big SUV and he can carry me down the porch steps instead of trying to kill me by dragging me down them.”

Harper growls. “If I was trying to kill you, you’d be dead, old man.”

“Involuntary manslaughter then.”

Harper groans. “You and those BBC detective shows.”

I help Henry into the wheelchair. “Which one is your favorite?”

“There’s one set during the war and the detective solves murders on the home front in England.”

“Sounds interesting.”

We reach the top of the steps on the porch and Harper rushes to us. “Let me help you.”

“You can help by ogling my muscles as I carry your dad down the stairs.”

“I don’t ogle.”

“Sure, you don’t.” I wink before lifting the wheelchair and carrying it down the stairs. It’s not an easy task, but it’s better than letting Harper help. I don’t want her hurting herself.

“Why don’t you have a ramp?” I ask once I’m driving toward Mom’s house.

“They’re expensive. I tried to get a subsidy but it wasn’t approved.”

I frown. A subsidy should have been approved. How is Harper supposed to get her dad up and down those stairs without a ramp?

We arrive at the ranch house where Mom and my step-dad, Stuart, live five minutes later. They live a little out of the town of Smuggler’s Rest. Mom said after raising six boys, she needed some peace and quiet.

“Is this the house you grew up in?” Harper asks as I push her dad toward the back yard.

I shake my head. “Eli bought Mom this house when he earned his second million.”

“What did he do with his first million?”

“He took all of us on this exclusive beach vacation for two weeks.”

“Holy mermaids,” she whispers when we reach the back yard.

It’s a pretty cool area. There’s a pool with a slide and hot tub attached, a fire pit where we hold competitions for best s’more, a lounge area with a television to watch games on, and an outdoor kitchen with a barbecue, refrigerator, and outdoor stove.

Mom spots me and she elbows Stuart, who’s manning the grill. He captures her hand and they make their way to us.