“Lyrica,” Zoey said softly, warningly.

“I’ll just get dressed.” Doogan gave his head a little shake and strode to her bedroom. “Sorry, Zoey.”

They watched him disappear, the door closing quietly behind him.

Zoey bit her lips and lifted her gaze to the skylights above them. No way Lyrica missed that hickey on his neck.

“Oh God. You slept with him . . .” her sister wheezed.

Zoey cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Well, we didn’t sleep much.”

Lyrica’s smothered squeal had Zoey’s gaze jerking to her in shock at the sound. Her sister was staring at her, hands pressed against her flushed cheeks, her green eyes dancing with sheer disbelief.

“Oh my God,” she choked.

“You said that already, Lyrica.” Zoey glared back at her. “What’s wrong with him?” Hell, Zoey thought, she hadn’t found a damned thing wrong with him.

“Oh my God, that look on your face,” Lyrica exclaimed.

“What look?” Ducking her head, Zoey stalked away from her sister and headed for the kitchen. “I need coffee.”

“Oh, Zoey, please don’t let Dawg find out,” Lyrica whispered. “That so wasn’t his pick for you.”

They’d seen enough, heard enough to know that Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches, as well as Timothy and several of their closest friends, had been playing matchmakers in the oddest ways where Dawg’s sisters were concerned.

“Yeah, well, his choices sucked anyway,” Zoey snapped. “And if I wanted one of the men he’s lined up I could have had them at any time since the day we arrived in Somerset. Stop worrying, Lyrica. I have a handle on it.”

“Oh, Zoey,” Lyrica sighed pityingly. “Haven’t we warned you about lying to yourself? I was so certain we had—”

“Shut up!” Zoey demanded. “And stop worrying. Now, where’s the babies? With Momma?”

“Zoey, listen to me,” Lyrica demanded, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Honey, you don’t understand. If anyone asks, Graham, or Brogan, who the one man was that would send them straight to Dawg if he’s seen with you, the answer is him.” She pointed to the bedroom door. “He gets people shot at. Hell, even Brogan wants to shoot him. But, Zoey . . .”

“Well, I just want to do him, and I’d prefer to do him in peace if you don’t mind,” she snapped back, watching Lyrica’s eyes widen a second before her lips parted, closed, and then she shook her head with a groan.

“God, Lyrica, shouldn’t I be able to choose who my first lover is . . .”

“But Zoey, honey, he’ll break your heart,” Lyrica whispered.

“I know.” And she did. “But he’s my choice, Lyrica. Isn’t that what counts?”

“You love him,” Lyrica said softly, surprised. “Zoey.”

And she’d had enough. Turning from her sister, she all but stomped to the coffeepot. “You want coffee or you want to get all weepy and maudlin on me? Really? You’d think I could have what I want, just once, without worrying about big brother.”

Just this once, let her have something for herself, just in case life as she knew it, was over soon.

“Oh my God, Zoey. If big brother finds out, he’ll hurt Doogan. Of any man on the face of this earth, Doogan is the one he’ll lose his mind over,” her sister warned her.

“That’s when I’ll leave, Lyrica.” Turning back to her, Zoey knew if Dawg did one thing to ruin this for her before Doogan left on his own, then she’d leave herself. And she’d never come back.

“Oh, Zoey.” Lyrica knew what Zoey had already accepted.

Dawg would find out and he would, as she said, have pups. But if he interfered, she’d make sure he never interfered in any other choice she ever made again.

—

Doogan lowered his head as he heard Zoey’s promise to her sister.

Listening to them through the small earbud he was testing the listening devices with, Doogan shook his head wearily. Zoey admitted she knew he was going to break her heart, and still she wanted him. He was her choice, she stated. He wasn’t her brother’s pick but hers alone. As though Eli could handle her. The other suspected pick was Shane Mayes, the former sheriff, Ezekiel Mayes’s son. And though Shane was a fine man, one Doogan wouldn’t have minded having as an agent, he was still a far cry from a match for Zoey.

He gave a mocking sneer at the thought of the men Dawg chose before disconnecting the earbud as Zoey and Lyrica’s conversation turned to babies and Lyrica’s marital bliss. What kind of husband Graham Brock was didn’t concern him in the least.

He was a little perturbed with himself, though, for not making certain Zoey was actually alone when he heard the door open. The bright spot in that was the comment Lyrica made indicating that the sisters refrained from sharing each other’s secrets with anyone else. Which explained why they managed to actually get so many things past their brother and cousins. Finishing his coffee Doogan dressed in jeans and a narrow, white striped gray shirt. Sitting at the edge of the bed he pulled on well-worn leather ankle boots, laced them, then rose to his feet and left the bedroom. Where he once again faced Zoey’s wide-eyed sister.

“I’ll be in the garage, Zoey.” Damn Lyrica; he’d waited to get back, shower, and have another taste of Zoey. He hadn’t expected her sister to show up.

“You don’t have to leave, Doogan,” she said softly, a hint of concern flashing in her pale green eyes. “Trust me, Lyrica won’t even tell Graham about seeing you here. Though Eli will probably tell him about seeing you at the race.”

“Not this morning he didn’t,” Lyrica revealed. “I talked to Graham just after Eli left and he had no clue.”

“Eli and I talked last night,” Doogan assured them. “He won’t say anything.”

Lyrica still watched him intently, a small frown at her forehead as her gaze raked over him again before pausing at the mark on his neck. Zoey’s mark.

“I’ll be in the garage, then.” He nodded to Zoey and her sister before moving past them to the hall leading to the end of the second level of the building and the metal staircase they’d used the night before.

He wanted to make certain the bike was at peak performance, while also ensuring it provided the best balance to weight for Zoey before that next race. She was small and delicate without the strength to manhandle the machine as the male racers did. He had a few ideas to fix that. There were also items he needed to purchase for her riding gear to ensure her safety. A new helmet for sure. The one she had wouldn’t protect her hard head effectively, and he didn’t want her risking more than a few bruises.

Bruises were a necessary part of life, he thought; anything more serious wouldn’t be tolerated, though.

“What’s with all the funny looks?” Zoey demanded as Doogan could be heard moving quickly down the metal staircase.

“Hell, Zoey, he walked out dressed like a normal person.” Lyrica blinked back at her as she leaned her elbows on the counter, where they were sitting across from each other. “If I hadn’t known who he was, I wouldn’t have recognized him.”

She liked the way he looked, Zoey decided. She’d seen him all GQ proper two weeks before, and though he’d looked damned good, he looked even better in jeans.

“Maybe Dawg will have the same problem if he sees him, then.” Zoey could only hope.

“Eli says he always manages to get himself or his agents shot whenever on a mission,” Lyrica told her, obviously worried. “He acts scared to death whenever Graham has to send him to meet with Doogan.”

“I’m not one of his agents,” Zoey pointed out.

“Why is he here with you, Zoey?” her sister asked, leaning forward worriedly. “Whatever he’s in Somerset for, it’s not to work on your bike or because he just couldn’t stand another day that he wasn’t in your bed. And if it was because of a case or an investigation, he would have met with Graham, and I would have known he was in town.”

“It’s not to get me shot at,” Zoey assured her, but she had to admit that question had bothered her throughout the day as well, despite his answer the night before. “It’s probably just spy stuff,” she finally told her sister. “No one knows he’s here, though, and he won’t be here long. Stop worrying.”