Chapter One
Jackson Stone’s entire life had been a goddamn lie, and in a matter of minutes, he was about to confront the truth, along with the fact that he had three brothers he hadn’t even known existed until two weeks ago. He was still dealing with, and sorting through, the shock of learning the details surrounding his birth and illegal adoption, and he had no idea if his three siblings—one of which was his twin—were even aware of his existence.
He was about to find out, but ultimately it didn’t matter if they knew of him or not, because facing his brothers was something he had to do. If anything, Jackson hoped meeting them gave him some kind of closure. He’d spent the past thirty-two years feeling like an outsider in his own family and wondering why his father—or rather, the man who’d raised him—had always favored his younger son while blatantly ignoring any attempt Jackson had made to win Paul Stone’s affection and approval.
But now that Jackson had discovered the truth about where he’d come from, his father’s rejection made so much more sense to him. Unfortunately, his entire childhood had been a mind-fuck, and nothing had been as it seemed. Even as an adult, the emotional damage his father had inflicted during those younger, formative years, combined with his ex-wife’s betrayal, made it difficult for Jackson to let anyone close. The few people he trusted implicitly, he could count on one hand, and he doubted that would change anytime soon.
He pushed those thoughts from his mind and rolled his tense shoulders just as the navigation system announced that he’d arrived at his destination—a bar named Kincaid’s that was located in a less-than-desirable neighborhood in Chicago. He turned his Porsche into the parking area behind the building, his gleaming dark gray sports car glaringly out of place next to the few older vehicles in the lot.
Not wanting to risk getting the paint scratched or dinged, he parked his car in the farthest row, away from everyone else. The 911 Carrera was his baby, a gift to himself when he’d made partner at Schmidt and Kramer, the architect firm where he’d worked the past eleven years. Yeah, he was a bit obsessive about keeping the Porsche in pristine condition, but considering he’d worked his ass off to be able to afford such an indulgence, he didn’t mind going out of his way to protect his investment.
Sliding out of the low-slung car, he straightened to his full height and engaged the alarm system, then glanced at his watch. It was three thirty in the afternoon, a half hour before the establishment opened. He was hoping that by arriving early he’d be able to catch Clay, the brother who owned the place, and his twin, before the bar started letting customers in for the evening.
As he approached the old, dated building, out of habit he found himself eyeing the place from an architect’s perspective. He was used to working on urban designs, corporate buildings, and sophisticated and luxurious structures, but the modest bar that had probably been built in the 1980s fit the blue-collar neighborhood. The place looked clean and well taken care of and appeared as though it had been recently treated with new wood trim and a fresh coat of paint.
He didn’t know much about the Kincaid brothers, just the basic information he’d enlisted a private investigator to provide so he had an initial point of contact and could introduce himself to the men. Names, ages, marital status, and place of business was what Jackson had asked for, and that’s all he’d been given. The PI had offered to deliver an in-depth background report on all three men, but Jackson had declined. He wasn’t looking to blatantly invade their privacy. If the situation were reversed, he wouldn’t appreciate his entire life and past being scrutinized by a virtual stranger or conclusions made about his character based on information provided by a third party.
He reached the front entrance to the bar. The hours of operation stated they didn’t open until four, but figuring the employees arrived earlier, he pulled on the iron handle anyway. His nerves ratcheted up a notch as the door opened, bringing him one step closer to meeting his brothers. Uncertainty and anticipation mingled inside him as he entered the vacant lobby.
He was a confident, successful, and respected businessman, but there was no way of knowing what kind of reception he was about to receive. His stomach pitched at the possibility that his siblings might not want to have anything to do with him, or make it clear that he didn’t belong.
Yeah, the fucking story of my life, Jackson thought as he forcibly shook off the mental and physical anxiety trying to take hold. Exhaling a deep breath, he moved toward the sounds coming from the main bar, where the lighting was dimmed. He caught sight of a young woman setting out a garnish tray at the service area, who absently glanced his way as soon as he came into sight, immediately pegging him as a customer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, giving him an apologetic smile as she added a stack of napkins to the counter. “But we don’t open until four . . .”
As he stood there, her gaze skimmed over his Armani suit and up to his face. A look of utter confusion creased her brows, and he was pretty sure he knew why. Her boss and his twin, Clay Kincaid, obviously wasn’t a business suit kind of guy, and that was throwing her off, along with similarities Jackson must share with his brother. With a tilt of her head, she took in his short cropped hair and studied his features, and when she finally met his gaze, he couldn’t hold back the amused smile that tugged up the corners of his lips.
Her perplexed expression turned to one of unmitigated shock as she realized he wasn’t her employer. Exotic eyes, a stunning shade of bright azure blue, widened, and she shook her head wildly in disbelief, causing long, dark strands of her silky-looking hair to brush back and forth across her shoulders.
“You’re not Clay,” she blurted out.
“No, I’m not,” he confirmed in a low, husky voice as he caught sight of a small diamond piercing above her sensual upper lip. “I’m his twin brother, Jackson Stone.”
“His twin,” she repeated, still staring at him, her tone soft with awe as her disbelief gradually morphed into curious bewilderment, along with a noticeable flicker of fascination. “Holy . . . shit. Clay has a fucking twin.”
He chuckled, enjoying her unfiltered response. Found it refreshing, actually. He was used to polite, sophisticated women. The kind who tended to be sweet, prim, and proper in his presence and a catty bitch behind his back. This beauty in front of him was edgy and direct, and damn if he didn’t find the straightforward combination sexy as fuck.
“This is . . . crazy,” she said, still trying to process everything about him and the situation. “Does Clay know you were stopping by?”
He heard the cautious, slightly protective note to her voice that told him just how loyal this woman was to her boss and decided to be completely honest with her. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know I exist.”
Questions filled her expressive blue eyes as he moved even closer to her side of the bar, but she didn’t ask any of them, which he appreciated.
“Is he here, by chance?” Jackson asked hopefully.
“No. Wednesday nights are pretty slow.” She was still staring at him, and an undeniable—and mutual—awareness simmered between them. “Most likely, he’s at home with his wife.”
His brothers’ marital statuses had been included in his condensed background report, so Jackson was at least familiar with their significant others. Clay, owner of Kincaid’s, was married to Samantha. Mason, owner of Inked, a tattoo shop, was married to Katrina. And Levi, the youngest brother, who was a cop for Chicago PD, had recently become engaged to a woman named Sarah.
“Is there a way I can get ahold of him?” Now that Jackson was finally here, he didn’t want to drag this first meeting out any longer than necessary. The proverbial cat was out of the bag, and he also didn’t want to give any of the Kincaid brothers a reason to say no to meeting him.
She bit that lush bottom lip of hers, clearly considering his request while he contemplated her seductive mouth in general and the sinful things he’d like to do to it. But once again, Jackson instinctively knew her loyalty to Clay would win out and she wouldn’t be doing anything to or with him. Not until Clay had given Jackson his stamp of approval. As frustrating as that was, he couldn’t help but respect her for being so trustworthy.
“You seem like a really nice guy, Jackson,” she finally said earnestly. “I won’t give out Clay’s personal information, but I can do one of two things for you. I can take your information and pass it along to Clay, or I can call him now and see if he’s able to come down to the bar and meet you.”
Grateful that she hadn’t completely shut him down, he pushed his hands into the front pockets of his pants and graced her with one of his charming grins. “I’ll take option number two, please.”
She returned his smile before pulling her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans. She pressed a few buttons on the screen of her phone, then held it up to her ear while half turning away from him, so that her face was averted, which he didn’t mind one damn bit considering the sexy view she’d just presented him with. While she waited for someone to answer her call, his gaze shamelessly skimmed down the side profile of her made-for-sin body, taking in her full, high breasts beneath the Kincaid’s T-shirt she wore and the sweet curve of her ass outlined in her formfitting jeans.
His eyes remained right there as a lustful heat coursed through his veins, turning up the temperature of his blood a few degrees. As he was a man who appreciated a toned and firm backside on a woman, hers teased him with the mental image of grabbing her ass while he pulled her hips toward his or smacking that softly rounded flesh with the palm of one hand while his other one fisted all that beautiful, long hair tight between his fingers as he aligned himself behind her.
He didn’t even try and waylay the twitch of his dick as those dirty thoughts filled his mind. No, he actually welcomed his body’s reaction to her. It had been too fucking long since any woman had piqued his interest or stimulated his cock. In just a matter of minutes, she’d managed both and he was definitely intrigued.
“Hey, hi, Clay, it’s Tara,” she finally said, trying to sound casual as she greeted her boss on the phone while also making Jackson privy to her name. “No, everything is just fine,” she rushed to assure him while casting a surreptitious glance back at him. “I’m calling because someone is at the bar to see you . . . and he wants it to be a surprise.”
Jackson hadn’t told her that, but he assumed she didn’t want to announce to Clay over the phone that he had a long-lost twin. Her delicate way of handling his impromptu visit was yet another thing he was grateful for, and a part of him was sorry for putting her in the middle of the situation.
As she listened to whatever Clay was saying to her in response, she rolled her eyes at Jackson, giving him the impression that Clay was trying to wheedle more information out of her. Behind him, he could hear people walking by . . . most likely employees getting ready for their shift, but they paid him no attention. Clearly, he didn’t resemble Clay from the back view, at least not dressed in an expensive suit.
“I know I’m being cryptic, but trust me, Clay,” she said persuasively. “You just need to come down to the bar and see for yourself. In fact, if Mason and Levi can join you, that would be even better.”
Meeting all three of his brothers at once was Jackson’s preference, too.
She went quiet while Clay talked another few seconds, then she finally said, “Okay, thank you.” Relief filled her tone. “I’ll see you in about half an hour.”
With a press of her finger, she disconnected the call, her expression conflicted when she turned fully toward Jackson again. “Clay sounded so suspicious on the phone,” she said with a grimace as she dragged her fingers through her hair. “God, he’s going to kill me for not giving him a heads-up about you.”
“It’s better this way,” he said, hoping to reassure her.
She nodded in understanding. “I know. That’s why I didn’t break the news to him that he had a twin.” She released a soft little laugh. “I mean, how do you explain something like that on the phone? It’s something Clay has to see for himself to believe it, and I didn’t want to give him the next half hour to drive himself nuts thinking about the hows and whys of your existence. That’s your story to tell.”
Yes, it was, and even he had to admit that the tale was one helluva story that had taken even him time to digest and accept. “Thank you, Tara.”
She gave him a wry look that was tinged with humor. “You can thank me by giving me a job at whatever fancy place you work at once Clay fires me for keeping you a secret.”
He chuckled. “If that happens, I promise I’ll make you my personal assistant.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his filthy mind imagined all the personal things she could do for him, and it had nothing to do with paperwork or fielding phone calls. No, it involved her servicing him in a whole different way.
She raised a perfectly arched brow, completely unaware of the direction his thoughts had just traveled. “I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Stone.”
Her light, feisty personality had the tension in his shoulders ebbing, and for the first time since walking into the bar, he began to relax. Tara was like a breath of fresh air compared to how stifled and guarded he felt around most of the women he’d casually dated since his divorce. There were no expectations or pretenses with her and no reason for her to try and impress him.
A perky blonde with a bounce in her step walked around Jackson and behind the bar. She was wearing the same T-shirt-and-jeans uniform as Tara, and she gave him a brief glance—the physical differences between him and Clay not yet registering.
“Hey, Clay, what are you doing here all dressed up in a suit? Is Samantha dragging you off to somewhere classier than this joint?” she teased over her shoulder as she put her purse into a cupboard.
Tara’s eyes glimmered with mirth. “Take another look, Amanda. That’s not Clay. It’s his twin, Jackson.”
“Ha ha,” Amanda responded drolly as she shifted her gaze back to him, clearly taking Tara’s comment as a joke.
The other woman studied Jackson for a casual moment, focusing on his facial features and the cut of his hair. It was comical to watch that shift from of course this is my boss, Clay to that moment when she realized that Tara hadn’t been yanking her chain after all.
Amanda’s jaw literally dropped open, then snapped shut again. “Clay has a freakin’ twin?” she exclaimed, loud enough that a few other employees in the place glanced his way curiously, as well.
Tara laughed. “That’s what I just told you.”
The initial nonchalance in Amanda’s gaze dissipated as she assessed Jackson through a new, unfiltered perspective—slowly and appreciatively. “Jesus, and I thought Clay was hot,” she murmured flirtatiously.
He didn’t miss the subtle come-on in her words, but he wasn’t the least bit tempted. Now, if it had been Tara issuing the invitation, he would have seriously considered his options.
As if sensing the suddenly awkward vibe in the air, Tara stepped in front of Amanda and changed the subject. “Why don’t you take a seat at the far end of the bar while you wait for the guys to get here?” she suggested to him.
“Where I’ll be less distracting?” he asked with a half grin as he walked in that direction, away from the main traffic area and the other employees arriving for their shifts.
She gave him a sassy little smirk. “Yeah, that, too.”
He slid onto the last cushioned stool at the bar, and she followed him from the other side of the counter. The lighting at this end was more muted, which made it feel more private. At least for now.
She set a cocktail napkin in front of him. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
He glanced at the selection of premium liquor on the top shelf behind the bar and was surprised that he found the high-end brand he was searching for. “I’ll take the Bushmills 21 neat.”
She tipped her head inquisitively, bringing his attention once again to the small, sexy diamond stud winking at him from her upper lip. “We don’t get many requests for the Bushmills, considering most of our clientele in this area tend to order the cheap and dirty drinks, but I should have guessed a sophisticated guy like you would go right for the most expensive brand of liquor we’ve got in the place.”
Standing on the tips of her toes, she reached up to grab the distinctive bottle of alcohol, and his gaze automatically gravitated to the enticing swells of her ass once again. Fuck, she was hot. He lingered longer than he’d intended on what was quickly becoming his favorite view, and when she turned back around, he knew he’d been caught in the act. And he was now looking at that sweet spot at the juncture of her slender thighs—an equally captivating sight that had his body humming with heated awareness.
There was no denying what he’d been staring at, and without an ounce of remorse, he lifted his eyes back up to hers. Yep, he’d been busted, but the glimpse of amusement he saw dancing in those stunning blue irises and the arousing-as-hell flush on her cheeks told him that she hadn’t been the least bit offended by his perusal of her ass.
No, she certainly wasn’t shying away from the attraction simmering between them, nor was she playing hard to get like other women he’d dated—female games that bored him or made him suspicious of their motives. He liked flirting with Tara. Liked that there were no contrived pretenses in their interactions, and he in turn could just be himself, as well.
“If you don’t sell a lot of this particular brand, why carry it?” he asked casually as she poured his drink with a quick, deft hand. From a business perspective, it seemed like a waste of space and money to him.
“Because every so often, Clay or Mason will indulge in their favorite whiskey, and that would be the Bushmills 21.” She placed the lowball glass filled with the amber liquid on the napkin in front of him. “That’s the only reason it’s on the shelf. Just goes to show that you really are Clay’s twin.”
He chuckled lightly. “Just in case my looks didn’t convince you?”
That sweet, addictive laugh escaped her lips once again. “You’re the spitting image of your brother, but I’m pretty sure the two of you couldn’t be more different in most other ways.”
“Such as?” he wanted to know.
“Well, for one thing, the only time I’ve ever seen Clay in a suit was when he got married, and you look like you wear one on a daily basis.” Her gaze took in his facial features, then his hair. “I’m guessing you live in the city and have some kind of corporate career, while Clay hates downtown Chicago and is definitely not the kind of guy to work a nine-to-five shift. I’m guessing your general lifestyles are pretty opposite.”
He didn’t get the impression that she was judging him in any way, and quite honestly, her speculation about him was pretty spot on based on his outer appearance. But Jackson hadn’t grown up in the lap of luxury as she probably assumed, nor had there been any emotional support that might have helped guide him toward the kind of future most parents would want for their kid.
Far from it. Jackson had been motivated to build a successful life for himself based on his anger and resentment toward the man he’d believed was his father but who had never treated him like a son. He’d grown up feeling worthless and insignificant compared to his younger brother, and not knowing the why of his father’s actions had spawned all sorts of insecurities. Doubting himself, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter how hard he tried to please his father, had been the most painful.
Once he’d turned eighteen and left home, Jackson had achieved every single goal he’d set for himself—starting with college and the school loans he’d paid for himself over the years, through an internship at a prestigious architectural firm, to finally being hired on in a full-time position with Schmidt and Kramer and becoming partner, to making a respectable six-figure salary, with impressive quarterly bonuses. He’d invested his money well and had a solid seven figures to his name.
From anyone on the outside looking in, it appeared that he’d built a fucking fantastic life for himself, and he had. But everything he’d accomplished and obtained had never filled that empty hole inside of him. His marriage certainly hadn’t lived up to his expectations of what he thought would bring him ultimate happiness. He wondered if anything ever would.
Tara had gone back to prepping the bar while he’d been lost in his thoughts, and he sipped his whiskey as he watched her move with purpose as she stocked glasses, replaced liquor bottles, and organized things to her liking. Other staff members were milling about, some of whom were blatantly staring at him with shock as they glanced his way. Obviously, Amanda, the other bar waitress, had let staff members in on the fact that Clay had a twin, and they wanted to see him for themselves.
After a short while, Tara came back to his end of the bar to check on him. “You doing okay down here? Would you like another drink?”
He swirled the last bit of liquor in his glass and shook his head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” The one drink had been just enough to somewhat relax him, though he was still a bit anxious about meeting his siblings. He didn’t think there was anything, legal anyway, that would quell that particular nervous anticipation thrumming through him.
Trying to tamp down his restlessness, he glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed since she’d made the phone call to Clay. The place was still empty of customers since it was ten minutes until opening time. Tara didn’t move away. Instead she started pushing bottles of beer into the ice bin on the other side of the counter where he was sitting, and he decided to take advantage of any knowledge she might want to share about the Kincaid brothers.
“So, what are the three of them like?” he asked before he changed his mind about prying. He wasn’t asking for deep, personal secrets. He just wanted to know a bit about their personalities before he met them to put him more at ease. Yeah, he knew it was an unfair advantage to learn about his siblings before they even knew he existed, but it was three against one in the upcoming introduction, and he needed all the leverage he could get.
Tara glanced up at him, her eyes filled with emphatic kindness, as if she understood his concern about meeting the men he knew absolutely nothing about. “Well, the three of them are tight, and life for them hasn’t always been easy,” she said as she wiped her damp hands on a white terry towel. “In fact, they’ve gone through a lot of shit together since they were kids, so don’t be too disappointed and don’t take it personally if they’re a bit distrusting when they first meet you.”
He nodded. “I figured as much.” Despite them sharing a birth mother, Jackson was still a stranger, after all. He wasn’t expecting them to welcome him with open arms, but he hoped they would at least give him a chance to get to know the three of them better.
From his sitting position at the very end of the counter, he watched as a young couple entered the bar and took a seat at one of the round tables in the main area. They were the first customers of the evening, which meant Clay was that much closer to arriving. He finished off his Bushmills and pushed the glass away.
“Clay is a little rough around the edges,” Tara went on as she tucked the towel into the waistband of her jeans. “But he’s a really great guy once you get to know him. Around here, he has the nickname of Saint Clay because he’s something of a do-gooder.”
He rested his arms on the counter, his curiosity getting the best of him. “A do-gooder, huh?”
She picked up his empty glass and put it in the sink beneath the counter. “Yeah. He’s someone who genuinely wants to help out other people because he knows what it’s like to struggle. Most of us who work here were hired because we really needed the job for one reason or another.”
The underlying gratitude toward her boss in her tone spoke volumes and hinted at Clay’s influence in her life. “Including you?” he asked.
“Yeah, including me,” she admitted softly.
He wondered about those shadows in her eyes, wanted to know where they’d come from and what she’d been through, but she quickly blinked them away before he could analyze those emotions any further.
“Clay’s like a brother to me,” she said with a shrug, her words helping to explain her loyalty to her boss. “Actually, all three of them are like family. They’re very protective, but it’s kind of nice knowing that someone has my back, and I always know that they’ll be there for me if I need anything at all. That’s just the kind of guys they are.”
He didn’t miss the fact that she said nothing of her own family. “And Mason? He owns a tattoo place, right?”
“Yeah. He’s the hell-raiser out of the three. Smart mouth. Womanizer.” She set a glass pitcher on the base of a blender, continuing her bar setup as she talked. “Well, he was a player until he finally came to his senses and realized that his best friend, Katrina, was the only woman for him. It’s actually quite amusing to see him so mellow and wrapped around Katrina’s finger.”
The fondness in Tara’s voice made Jackson smile.
“Then there’s Levi, who couldn’t be more different than his brothers,” she continued, more animated now. “He’s a police officer with Chicago PD. He’s quiet and reserved but intense in his own way. He may not say much, but he doesn’t miss a single damn thing going on around him.”
All interesting facts about each brother that Jackson made a mental note of. He had a feeling all those details would come in handy very soon.
“Tara,” a deep male voice called out from the other side of the bar. “Where’s this person who’s here to see us?”
The beautiful bartender standing across from Jackson had been so caught up in their conversation—hell, he’d been just as engaged—that her entire body visibly jolted in surprise when someone called her name. Before Jackson lifted his head to glance toward the entrance area behind her, Tara’s big, wide eyes already told him who had arrived. Clay. And judging by the word us that he’d just used, he’d brought his brothers with him as she’d requested.
He exhaled a calming breath as Tara turned around and addressed the three men waiting to find out who their visitor was. She took a small step to the side, blocking their view of Jackson to give him another moment to collect his composure before they caught a glimpse of him. It also gave him the chance to slide off his stool and stand up so he was on an even playing field when he came face-to-face with his twin.
“He’s down here, guys,” she said, her voice steady and even, but the way her fingers were twisting around the hand towel she’d tucked into her jeans gave her own nervousness away.
A handful of seconds later, the three men rounded the bar at the far end, and Clay came to an abrupt stop when he looked at Jackson’s face, which was an exact reflection of his own. Just as suddenly, his brothers halted beside him as they realized the same thing. Hell, even Jackson was taken aback by the identical appearance of the man standing in front of him, and he’d had warning.
Physically, they were the same tall height, their bodies the same solid build. Both of them had dark brown hair, though Clay’s was a bit longer and more disorderly than Jackson wore his. They possessed the same color eyes in a dark shade of brown flecked with gold, but it was their prominent facial features that provided irrefutable evidence that they’d shared the same womb at the same time over thirty-two years ago—the exact same rugged angle of their jaws, the strong line of their noses, and the shape of their mouths. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a reflection of himself.
Clay blinked and shook his head, his expression dumbfounded. “What the hell . . .” Confusion deepened his voice as his words trailed off.
Tara bit her bottom lip, her gaze shifting from Clay to Jackson and back again to her boss, who was still staring at him in stunned silence, as if his brain was trying to catch up to what his eyes were actually seeing.
“Clay, this is Jackson Stone,” Tara said, breaking the strained silence that had descended between them. “Your twin brother.”
“My twin brother?” Clay exclaimed incredulously as he looked him up and down, taking in his expensive suit and no doubt judging Jackson before even knowing him. “Jesus Christ, how is that even possible . . .”
“No fucking way.” The sibling with the sleeves of tattoos on both arms—Mason, he guessed—stared at Jackson as if he were a sideshow freak.
The brother with the lighter blond hair—clearly the cop—remained quiet, but he was no less aware as he observed Jackson through those shrewd, light green eyes of his.
Taking advantage of Clay’s shock, Jackson stepped forward and extended his hand toward the other man. Hesitantly, Clay shook it, but Jackson didn’t miss the immediate wariness darkening his gaze, just as Tara had warned him would happen.
“It’s good to meet you. All three of you,” he said, looking at each of the brothers flanking Clay as he released his twin’s hand.
“We don’t have a brother, so who the fuck are you, really?” the tattooed one said, his posture defensive and guarded. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
Jackson was tempted to laugh at the absurd question, but knowing that Mason was grasping at an explanation for what he was seeing, he didn’t so much as crack a smile. “No. I promise, this isn’t a joke.”
“Jesus, Clay,” Mason said, scrubbing his fingers through his dark hair, his disbelief still evident. “He looks exactly like you.”
“That’s because I’ve got a goddamn fucking twin,” Clay replied, his raspy voice rising in volume as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in.
“How about we take this somewhere quiet and more private?” the other brother, Levi, suggested in a rational tone.
“That would be great. Thank you.” Relief flooded through Jackson. At least they weren’t kicking him out of the place or refusing to hear what he had to say. Hell, they could still decide that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, but once they learned the truth about the past, he hoped they could at least form some kind of relationship.
At the moment, though, these three men seemed anything but welcoming. Not that he could blame them for being cautious.
As his brothers turned around and motioned for him to follow, Jackson cast a quick glance at Tara, who’d witnessed the whole exchange. He didn’t miss the worry creasing her brows, and he smiled to put her concern at ease.
“Good luck,” she whispered to him.
Her support warmed him. At least he had one person on his side.
“Thank you.” He mouthed the words back to her. He had a strong feeling, with these three close-knit brothers, he was going to need all the positive reinforcement he could get.