Racing Home (Bryant Brothers Book 1)

chest of drawers that looked homemade sat across from the bed.
“Bathroom is across the hall. Madison is in the next room, and Elliot is in his old room, which is next to us.” She rounded on Tommy. “And you can take the couch in the family room.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to sleep here. I have my own place, remember?”
“Yes, but I never get to see you.”
The woman batted her lashes and pouted. Was she seriously manipulating her son into staying here? Mom had separation issues, huh?
Tommy sighed and rolled his eyes. “No funny business,” he warned.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Deanna replied airily.
Tommy pretended to cough, expelling the word “bullshit” as he covered his mouth with his fist. Deanna grinned and patted his cheek.
“Camila, leave your bag and come on back downstairs. Are you thirsty? Hungry? There’s plenty left over from brunch, or I can whip up something if you’d like,” Deanna said.
“She really can,” Tommy added, seemingly not at all put out by the exchange with his mother.
“I’m fine,” Camila said. “Really. But I wouldn’t turn down a drink.”
“You got it.” Deanna led her downstairs, with Tommy trailing behind. Probably checking out her ass again.
Deanna opened a cabinet that rested against the wall near the doors to the deck, revealing a decent assortment of high-end liquor, glassware, and the various paraphernalia necessary to concoct cocktails. “What would you like?”
Camila eyed the copper cups. “Can you make a mule?”
Deanna nodded and lifted one of the mugs. “Tommy, go fill this with ice and bring me a ginger beer.”
Tommy accepted the cup and snagged another off the cabinet. When he returned with two ginger beers, his mother arched her manicured brows.
“I’d like one, too, please,” he said.
Deanna rolled her eyes and set about mixing the drinks. When Camila took a sip of hers, she said, “Wow. You make these better than I do, and I do this for a living.”
Deanna’s cheeks pinked.
“If you keep complimenting her, she’s going to ask you to move in,” Tommy said.
He sounded like he was giving her a warning, but Camila didn’t think that was such a bad idea. So long as the woman nixed whatever idea she had about playing matchmaker with her and Tommy.
Because, yeah, this kitchen was pure heaven. She loved to cook but had neither the space in her small apartment nor the time, not to mention she kept to herself when she wasn’t at the bar, so she didn’t have anyone to cook for. Maybe Deanna would let her help make dinner while she was here. At least then she’d feel like she was earning her keep. Plus, she’d get to play around in this gorgeous space.
“Okay, kids, come on outside. I have chores to dole out.”
Apparently, Camila didn’t have to worry about earning her keep.

Chapter Three
“It doesn’t take all four of us to grocery shop, you know,” Elliot said as he, Tommy, Camila, and Madison headed down the driveway toward Tommy’s truck.
“I need to go for myself anyway,” Tommy said, sliding into the driver’s seat and forgetting to hold the door for either one of the ladies. Oops. Hopefully, Mom wasn’t watching out the window, or else she’d give him hell when they returned. But hey, in his defense, he spent far more time with guys than girls, and the girls he did occasionally keep time with weren’t overly concerned with manners and proper etiquette.
Elliot made him look even worse because he opened doors for both women. Jerk.
Although, win that Camila hopped into the passenger seat instead of the back. Tommy’s hand itched to slide across the console and cup her denim-clad thigh. Except she’d probably slap him. Her disdain for him was so obvious she might as well have it tattooed across her forehead.
Which was a damn shame because holy hell, she was hot. Tall, curvy—he’d never seen such a perfect ass in his life—olive skin with thick, dark hair that she obviously had professionally streaked blond, and big, brown eyes. She walked with her shoulders thrown back and her chest thrust out, like she had confidence for days. He loved women who had their own mind, who weren’t afraid to tell a guy what they wanted, and expect to get it.
She’d be the perfect fling while he was home for the next week.
Problem was, Tommy wasn’t exactly suave when it came to wooing the opposite sex. He didn’t usually have to be. Motocross racers, like guys in most sports, had plenty of groupies. Young women who followed the circuit, who showed up at the after parties and were happy to accompany him back to his hotel room for a few naked hours together before heading back to their lives in the morning. Half the time he didn’t even know their names, and that was just fine with him, because racing required a great deal of concentration and the last thing he needed was to be distracted when he was out on the course. Distracted racers didn’t win.
Good thing he didn’t have a race to concentrate on this week. That meant he could dedicate his entire focus to getting Camila into bed.
Shit, did he need to warn Elliot of his plan? Was there some sort of code around trying to hook up with your brother’s girlfriend’s sister? He’d never had to worry about it because none of his brothers had ever actually had a girlfriend before.
“Of course you’d have an ulterior motive,” Elliot grumbled, and for a minute, Tommy thought his brother was referring to his intention to get into Camila’s pants, but then he realized Elliot was talking about his need to grocery shop.
“I’d only been home for six hours when Mom called and demanded I come over to check out your girlfriend.” He glanced