Chapter 392. Meathead

A sharp scraping sound pulls my attention from the book in my lap. I blink then whirl in the chair I’ve been lounging in for the better part of three hours to find my cousin Ryan dragging a massive grill across his back patio. 

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask. 

“Dinner.” He grins then picks up the grill like it weighs nothing and walks to the far side of the patio where the concrete gives way to a stretch of emerald green grass before it meets the woods. 

I huff out a breath as Ryan continues his show of strength. “You’re such a show off, Ryan.”

It’s true, and he knows it. He simply winks at me and walks back into his house–a large log home with several bedrooms, sparse furnishing, and an assortment of manly decorations like the mounted buffalo head over the fireplace… with a glittery blue thong hanging from one of the horns. 

This place is a party house, plain and simple, and I’m not surprised in the slightest. Ryan has al