I smile to myself at the thought as I walk to Snow Roast for some coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

The door to the shop rings, and I step inside. There is a little bit of a line, so I pull out my phone and check my email while I wait, just to make sure I’m not missing any important school meetings that might have popped up last minute. The door rings, and I can feel someone step up in line behind me.

Poor Ruth—it must be busy like this every morning.

“Good morning.” The voice, deep and warm, startles me; I turn around to find Reid dressed in jeans and a plain T-shirt, hair wet, face freshly shaved. Of all the brothers, he looks the most like Griffin. It’s almost freaky. The only real difference between them is that Griffin has a little more wisdom in his eyes.

“Good morning.” I put my phone back in my purse. “How are you, Reid?”

“Good.” He smiles as I catch him giving me a quick once-over. I’m wearing a red sundress today and flip-flops. My hair is straight and pinned behind my ear with a bobby pin. Casual but cute—just in case I happen to run into anyone important. Ahem, Griffin. “How was shopping last night?” He raises his eyebrows.

Griffin must have told him he was taking me up to Pottsmouth; that, or the gossip train struck again.

“It was good. I needed so many things; I felt bad Griffin had to wait for me.”

Reid waves me off. “Nah, I’m sure he didn’t care.”

The door to the shop rings again, and I look past Reid’s shoulder to see Brig stepping into view wearing a black ball cap, a black shirt, and black pants, the same blue eyes he shares with his brothers shining under his dark brim. When he spots me, he smiles brightly.

“Ren, hey.” He pats Reid on the shoulder. “Buying for me this morning, bro?”

“In your dreams,” Reid mutters.

“Come on, buy your baby brother breakfast.”

The doorbell rings again, and this time, a polished and sophisticated man walks in, sporting a button-down, slacks, and a tie; his hair is pristinely styled, and he wears a watch on his wrist that oozes power.

Rogan.

When he spots his two brothers ahead of him, he rolls his eyes. “You two dipshits ran in ahead of me, didn’t you?”

Reid and Brig both exchange smiles; they knew exactly what they were doing.

“Forget it. I’m not buying you breakfast again. Three times in a row is far too many. You idiots have money. Get your own goddamn breakfast.”

Whereas Griffin, Reid, and Brig all have more outgoing personalities, Rogan seems a little more reserved than the others, like there’s some deep story behind the shadow of his eyes. I’d be interested to find out what that story is.

The boys bicker behind me as I step up to the counter, Ruth looking flustered as she takes in the Knightly men behind me.

“Good morning, Ruth. I’ll take a large black coffee and turkey-bacon-egg sandwich.”

Head tilted down, she jots down my order. “You got it.”

I’m reaching for my purse when a hand stops mine. A wave of cologne washes over me, and I turn to find Rogan. “I got it.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary.” I stumble through my words.

“I’m buying these other two breakfast. Might as well treat my new tenant as well.”

He doesn’t even give me a chance to argue before he’s ordering for himself and his brothers.

It takes a few minutes before we get our orders, but once we do, Reid and Brig take me by each arm, guiding me toward a table, where we all sit down, even Rogan. I look from one to the other, a little surprised about our impromptu breakfast and a little intimidated by how attractive they all are.

Hell, I shouldn’t complain. I have three out of the four Knightly men staring intently at me.

“So . . . what’s going on?”

“Thought it would be nice to get to know you better, unless you have somewhere to be,” Reid says, taking a big bite out of his croissant.

“Just have to do some grocery shopping after this. Get some ingredients for a potpie I’m making your brother tonight.”

All three glance around at each other, having some kind of silent conversation.

Brig is the first to speak. “You’re making him dinner?”

“Yeah, just as a thank-you for taking me to Walmart last night. He only got a few things when I went all out and stocked up my house. I felt bad, so I offered him taco potpie.”

“Taco potpie?” Reid asks, sipping on his tea. “That sound delicious. I might have to crash your dinner.”

“You have to close the shop tonight,” Rogan says to him, giving me a quick once-over. But it’s not in a sexual way, more assessing, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve.

“I can close quick.” Excitement in his eyes, Reid says, “So that means you don’t care about what happened in New Orleans? That’s fucking refreshing. All the women in town think we carry the plague.”

My brow furrows. What the hell is he talking about?

I’m about to ask when a tall figure walks up behind him, halting all conversation.

Hands on his waist, in his typical lobster shirt and jeans, Griffin stands over all of us. “What the hell is going on here?”

All three brothers startle and together take large gulps of their drinks, their eyes cast down, as if they were just caught red-handed.

Brig adjusts his baseball cap, the first to address their brother. “Just trying to get to know our new algebra teacher, that’s all.”

“Yup, that’s all,” Reid adds, a nervous tilt to his lips.

Not even addressing his brothers, Griffin brings his gaze to me. I quickly notice that he’s the only Knightly brother not to give me a once-over, and for some reason, that bothers me. I want his eyes to trail over my body, to take in the shape my dress gives me and the way my tan shows up against the fabric.

“Are they harassing you?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, they’re being sweet. Rogan actually bought me breakfast.”

“He did, did he?” Griffin eyes Rogan. I would melt under his stare, but Rogan coolly sips his coffee, not affected in the slightest.

“I think I have your other brothers to thank. They guilted him into buying their breakfast too.”

“It’s because Rogan is a sucker, that’s why,” Griffin says.

“They’re just too goddamn annoying to deal with in the morning. I’d rather just pay and get it over with,” Rogan deadpans.

“Did you hear that?” Reid asks Brig.

“Yup, made a mental note to always annoy Rogan when I want something. He gives in easily.”

Rolling his eyes, Rogan stands, his seat scraping across the wood floor. “I’m out of here. I have a meeting with Vanessa. I’ll catch you guys later. Dinner at Mom and Dad’s tonight. Be there.”

“Is Mom making stuffed shells?” Brig asks, standing as well.

“Pretty sure, but Dad is making the garlic bread. Promised me,” Reid answers, getting to his feet. “Mom burns it every single time with the broiler, but not this time. Dad is on it.” Brig and Reid give each other a high five. They, along with Rogan, murmur quick goodbyes in my direction before clasping Griffin on the shoulder and walking away.

Well, I guess our little impromptu breakfast is over before it even got started.

I glance up at Griffin as one bit of information sticks in my head. “You have dinner at your parents’ tonight?”

He nods just as his name is called for his order. “We try to get together at least once or twice a month for a family dinner. We had to cancel this past Sunday, so we’re doing it tonight.”

“Okay, that’s good to know because I was going to make that taco potpie tonight, but if you’re not going to be home to eat it, then I’ll hold off.”

“You really don’t have to make anything for me, Ren. Seriously. I don’t ever look for someone to pay me back.”

“I know, but I really want to, so stop denying my taco potpie.”

He chuckles and checks his watch. “Shit, I have to go open the shop. I’ll see you around.” With a quick wave, he grabs his coffee from the counter and heads out of the coffeehouse and down toward the harbor where the Lobster Landing rests, leaving me in his wake, wanting more.

I just saw him last night, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like we’ve only scratched the surface when it comes to conversation, and I might be crazy, but I swear he’s holding something back. Like when we talk, there is something behind those vivid blue eyes of his that he’s not telling me.

“Excuse me?”

I look up to find a nice-looking lady with a bag hanging on her shoulder, her hair tied up on the top of her head. She’s sporting a pair of leggings and a shirt that says, I write romance.

I wonder if this is Rylee.

“Yes?”

She takes the seat across from me and clutches her bag to her side. “You must be Ren, the new algebra teacher in town, right?”

“That’s me, and I’m going to guess you’re Rylee, the local romance novelist, just based off your shirt.”

She chuckles. “That obvious, huh?”