The BFF Bride Read Online Free

hanging his arm over Justin’s shoulder. “But I suppose if anyone can do it, it’s my genius little brother, Dr. Justin Clay.”
    Justin shrugged off the arm. He had a PhD in microbiology and immunology, and dual master’s degrees in computer science and chemistry. But he rarely used the title that went with the PhD. The fact was, he’d often felt a little out of step among his extended ranching family, even though his computer-geek father had bucked that trend, too.
    “I want to work on the project from Weaver,” he announced, and saw the look his brother and dad exchanged. “I’ll be able to concentrate on it better here. I figure Aunt Bec might clear the way for me to work at the hospital, since she runs the place.”
    “Rebecca probably can, though that’s—”
    “Rebecca probably can what?” Justin’s eldest uncle, Sawyer, entered the kitchen carrying several empty beer bottles.
    “Approve space in the new lab they’re building for a project I’m working on for CNJ. The company will cover all the costs, of course.”
    “Sell that to my wife,” Sawyer advised wryly. “Every day for the past two years I’ve been hearing about problems with that lab she’s trying to get built. Construction delays. Cost overruns. Losing the lab director didn’t help, and now it’s that fund-raiser event they’re having in a few weeks.” He dumped the bottles in the recycling basket and pulled open the refrigerator to retrieve several more beers. “You gonna be done in here soon? The old man’s getting impatient for dessert. He’s been debating pumpkin pie versus pecan versus chocolate cream for the past half hour.”
    “We’d be done sooner if we had some help,” Tristan told his brother in a pointed tone.
    Sawyer just laughed, snatched the unopened bottle out of Justin’s hands to add to his collection and left the kitchen again.
    When Justin went to the refrigerator, he found the shelf empty of beer.
    “Snooze you lose, son,” Tristan said. “Just because you choose to live in Boston doesn’t mean you’re excluded from that basic fact.” He pointed a thumb at the stack of rinsed dishes still waiting to be loaded.
    Sawyer’s intrusion was followed almost immediately by the rest of his brothers—first Jefferson, ostensibly to make sure there was still hot coffee on the stove, then Matthew and Daniel together, who made no bones that they were wanting their dessert, too.
    “Nothing changes,” Justin repeated when the kitchen eventually cleared.
    “Ever consider that there are times that’s a comfort?” Tristan finally turned off the faucet and dried his hands on a towel.
    “Never thought so before, particularly.”
    His father’s gaze wasn’t unsympathetic. But then, back in his day, Tristan had left Weaver for a good long while, too. Until he’d married Hope Leoni and they’d settled in Weaver permanently. He’d established a little company called Cee-Vid that became a huge player in consumer electronics, and Hope had taught at the elementary school and then ended up the head of the school board.
    “Someday—” Tristan’s voice was unusually reflective “—you might sit up and realize one of the most disturbing things in life is finding out that something you’d counted on never changing has already done so, without you ever having noticed.” Then he tossed the towel on the counter and left the kitchen, too.
    Frowning, Justin turned toward Erik. “What’s with him?”
    “Nothing that’s new. You’re just not usually around to see it.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Just a fact,” Erik said mildly. “You’re in Boston. You don’t see the day-to-day effects of the crap he deals with. And I’m not talking about Cee-Vid.”
    No. Erik was talking about the real work their father did. The secretive, frequently dangerous world of Hollins-Winword’s black operations, where their father was second in command. Cee-Vid was the legitimate front that hid the covert work,