Sissy lifted her head, and her gaze traveled up a long, powerful body wearing worn jeans, a worn T-shirt, and not much else. But when Sissy saw that face, she grinned. “Holy shit. Dee-Ann?”

“Figures,” Dee-Ann sighed. “I’ve killed my own damn cousin. Momma’s gonna have a fit.”

Laughing, Sissy grasped Dee’s hand and let her first cousin drag her to her feet. Dee-Ann was her cousin twice over. Her mother, Darla, was Janie Mae’s sister, and her father, the infamous Uncle Eggie, was the older brother of Bubba Smith. She was three years older than Sissy, but they’d had some very good times back in the day.

“Well, don’t get any ideas. You are not in my will.”

“Damn. I had it all planned out, too.”

The pair hugged, and Sissy let out a relieved breath. “Dee, I didn’t know you were home.”

“Only been back a couple of days. I’m out for good now, Sissy,” she finished on a murmur.

Sissy tamped down her desire to grill her cousin on how she felt and instead said, “Well, darlin’, you missed the wedding of the century.”

“So I heard. I am real sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t worry. Bobby Ray understands.”

Together they walked back to the main road, and Sissy glared at the still running Camaro. “And you have the nerve to be tooling around town in my car.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Dee shook her head. “Don’t even try it. I won this car fair and square. Besides, I look much better in it than you ever did.”

“I still say that race wasn’t fair.”

“Ignoring you,” Dee stated flatly. Of course, she stated most things flatly.

Sissy laughed, giving her cousin another hug. “Take me into town, bitch,” she said as she walked around to the passenger side.

“All right. But you owe me from where your big, fat head dented my driver’s side door.”

“Maybe if you weren’t speeding.”

Hands slapping against the roof of the car, Dee stared at her. “You didn’t say that. Those words didn’t come out of your mouth.”

Sissy gave her most innocent expression. “Why, cousin, I don’t know what you mean.”

The waitress placed another hamburger with fries in front of him and stepped back.

“Anything else?”

His mouth filled with food, Mitch held up his empty glass.

“More milk,” she said. “Got it.” Grabbing several empty plates, the waitress let out a little sigh and gave a small shake of her head before she walked away.

Why everyone was staring at him, Mitch didn’t know. He was hungry, dammit; that didn’t make him a freak.

As he dove into his seventh Smithtown Diner’s Mighty Burger,the rumbling sound of a modified muffler caught his attention, and the sweetest cherry-red Camaro tore past the big front window of the restaurant. Tires squealed, and the car returned, practically diving into the empty space right in front.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when Sissy laughingly stumbled out of the passenger side, nor when the waitress placed his milk-filled glass down and said, “Oh, Lord. Here comes trouble.”

“There you are!” Sissy said as she walked into the diner, another woman right behind her.

Mitch had to admit he liked how Sissy walked into a room. Every male became instantly aware of her. But Sissy either never noticed or she went out of her way to never notice. Mitch didn’t know, but he enjoyed how oblivious she seemed, annoying every male in a thirty-foot radius.

She pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Next time when you leave the house, why don’t you just wear a big bull’s eye on your chest?”

“What does that mean?” he asked around his burger.

“I’m trying to protect your dumb ass, and you go wandering off.”

“You weren’t fulfilling my needs,” he said simply. “And I have big, demanding needs.”

“You’re a glutton,” she snapped and took a fry off his plate. He snarled at her, but she only snorted. “And stingy.”

“I don’t share.”

“Get over it.” Taking more fries—and risking her hand in the process—Sissy motioned to the woman who had come in with her and who now sat in the chair across from Mitch. “This is my cousin, Dee-Ann. Dee-Ann, this is Mitch Shaw. He’s a cat and my personal pain in the ass.”

“Hey,” Dee-Ann mumbled while she looked around the diner. Mitch immediately noticed that look. He used to have it himself until he learned to be more subtle about it. This was a wary, un-trusting woman. With one look, she probably could tell him every exit in the room, who she thought would be the most trouble, and what her escape plan would be if someone who made her nervous came through the front door.

Dee-Ann’s hair was darker than Sissy’s and much shorter. Her eyes were a bright yellow, and her body made Sissy’s look almost petite. She was blatantly strong and sported scars that didn’t come from claws or fangs.

“She just got back from overseas,” Sissy told him, and her eyes made everything clear.

Sissy twisted in her chair and looked over at the counter. “Sammy…Sammy Ray!”

Mitch’s eyes crossed at her screams, and he glanced at her cousin only to see that Dee-Ann didn’t even seem to notice.

“What?” Sammy Ray yelled back. It was like the Smith family had only one volume level.