He came into the kitchen. Sydney’s breath caught, and her belly did a slow tumble. His jeans were snug, emphasizing the muscled length of his thighs, and his black T-shirt stretched across his chest, showing off corded biceps and toasty-golden skin. His hair reminded her of hazelnut, a mix of brown with a hint of red, and always fell in perfect, thick waves over his brow. He smelled of pine, fall leaves, and s’mores. But that was probably just her imagination, because those were some of her favorite things in the whole world.
Sydney tried to act casual yet sophisticated as she waited for him to greet her. She propped up an elbow to tilt her head to the side, making sure her hair fell over her cheek in neat curls. God knows she’d spent hours this morning with the curling iron making sure it didn’t frizz. She’d also been careful with her makeup. Pink lips, blush, mascara, and a touch of liner made her look older. The short denim skirt showed off her bare legs, and her trendy black top was cut to emphasize the swell of her breasts. Even her girlfriends had said how good she looked today. Maybe this time he’d notice?
“Mom, can you make dinner early tonight?”
She kept her position, but he still hadn’t acknowledged her. She forced herself to speak. “Hi, Tris.” Was her tone cool and casual enough? She crossed her legs deliberately so her skirt rode up an inch higher. “How are you?”
“Oh, hey, Syd. Mom? Can you?”
Diane kissed his cheek, which he allowed because he’d learned the alternative was a big bear hug that went on for too many seconds. “Sure. How was school this week?”
“Astronomy test. Science sucks.”
She raised a brow at his language but let it slide. “Maybe Dalton can help you. He’s starting to know more than me ever since he got that telescope.” She slid the cookies from the tray onto a large plate and set it in the middle of the marble table.
“Nah, I’ll manage. Are those chocolate chip?” He snatched a few from the plate and leaned over to eat. Sydney studied him from under lashes that still seemed sticky from too much mascara. Had he even looked at her yet?
She cleared her throat. “Hey, Tristan, a few of us are going to the movies tonight. Wanna come?”
He swiveled his gaze around. Piercing amber eyes glinted with amusement and . . . tolerance. “Huh? No, thanks, I have a date tonight. Going to a concert. But you have fun.”
His indulgent smile flattened her hopes like a deflated float. “Oh, sure. A date, huh? Sounds nice.”
“Hopefully she’s not.”
Diane hit him in the arm, and he laughed, face filled with a mischief Sydney didn’t understand, but she forced herself to laugh with him like she got the joke. She’d seen some of the girls he dated before. They always had shiny straight hair and lithe, athletic bodies. They talked about things like art history and finding artistic expression without societal constrictions and paraded in and out of the house on a regular basis. But none of them stayed more than a week or two, and then Tristan would show up with a new girl.
Sydney hated every single one of them.
Suddenly she felt stupid with her too-short skirt and mascaraed lashes and lame invitation. Tristan was in college. He dated older girls who knew how to talk and dress and flirt. They probably kissed him in the front seat of the car and made out. Maybe even got to second base. She was nothing to him but a family friend who hung around his house too much. Jealousy mixed with misery for a depressing cocktail that slumped her shoulders.
Her self-flagellation was interrupted by a booming voice that made Tristan stiffen as if preparing himself for something unpleasant. “Cookies! Why am I always the last to know around here?” Christian Pierce strode in, his usual gruff face softening into a relaxed grin when he caught sight of her. “Hey, sweetheart.” He gave a whistle as he took in her outfit. “You look gorgeous! Whose heart you gonna break tonight?”
She couldn’t help smiling back, a bit of her confidence lifted. Tristan’s father treated her like she was his daughter. He was sometimes rough with his boys, but to her he remained sweet, making her feel special. “Hopefully no one’s.”
“Well, if anyone tries to break yours, I’ll make him regret it.” He patted her cheek fondly, then grabbed a cookie from the plate. “I invited your grandparents to dinner tomorrow. Can you join us?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’m looking for some redemption from our last poker game. I still think he cheats.”
He glanced over at Tristan, and his easy smile disappeared, replaced by a hard expression. “Glad you’re back this weekend. Have a big job coming up, so you need to work tomorrow.”
“I can give you a few hours, but I need to leave by three.”
Christian practically spit with disgust. “Boy, you’ll work till the job’s done. I’m allowing you to run off to your fancy college, but your future is right here. Houses don’t get built by themselves. Have your fun on someone else’s time—not mine.”
Tristan threw his head back in challenge. Rebellion shone from his eyes. “I’m taking seventeen credits this semester, and I work my ass off. I come back each weekend to help out. Why is it never enough for you?”
Dread trickled through her veins. Tristan and his dad were constantly fighting, and it seemed to be getting worse. Diane tried to run interference, but Christian usually ended up yelling at her, too, and then Sydney felt bad for everyone. What was happening to the family she loved?
His father seemed so cold as he stared back. “?’Cause it’s not good enough. Lately, boy, nothing you do ever is.”
Raw pain flickered in Tristan’s amber eyes. She ached to get up and go to him, but he’d only shake her off. Diane put a hand on her son’s arm. “That’s enough,” she told Christian, her voice edged with warning. “He just got home. His studies come first. If we need to hire someone else, we will.”
The tension between them practically vibrated in the air, nothing resembling the easy camaraderie a husband and wife should exhibit. “If our sons did their jobs properly, we wouldn’t need outsiders. Babying them does no good for any of us.”
“Leave Mom out of this,” Tristan clipped out.
“Fine. I’ll have your brothers take up the slack while you go enjoy yourself. I’m going back to work.”
Christian walked out. Silence fell over the kitchen.
Tristan cursed under his breath. “I’m going up to my room.”
Diane took a step forward. “Honey, wait—”
But he shot off, disappearing up the stairs.
Sydney couldn’t stand it. Seeing him in pain was too much. “I’ll check on him,” she said, sliding off the stool.
But Diane caught her hand, shaking her head. “No. Sit back down, Syd. I want to talk to you about something.”
Heart pounding, she sat. Diane took the stool next to her. She seemed to be mulling over her words carefully. “Am I in trouble?” Sydney asked.
Diane squeezed her hand, smiling. “Of course not. You, my sweet girl, are a light around here. You help balance all this male energy in the house. I think I would’ve gone a bit crazy if I wasn’t able to talk about makeup or clothes or Matthew McConaughey.”
Sydney relaxed, soaking in the warmth that emanated from Diane’s figure. This kitchen was her safe haven. She couldn’t imagine not having the Pierce family in her life forever. “I feel the same way about you. Actually, all of you. I never lacked for siblings because of the boys.”