Racing Home (Bryant Brothers Book 1)

motocross is one of the most physically demanding sports in the world? I have to aggressively ensure I keep myself in top shape at all times, so I don’t fuck around with my diet.”
“Except when it comes to cookies.”
“Everyone has their vices.”
Was it weird that he was enjoying this byplay? They were grocery shopping, for shit’s sake. While, yeah, he’d finagled it so they could spend a little time together, he hadn’t expected to enjoy sparring with her. He’d actually figured he’d try to hit on her and she’d take off to find her sister at some point.
She didn’t, the conversation continued to be enjoyable with a side of snark, and by the time they caught up with Elliot and Madison, his cart was full.
“This is on you,” Elliot said as he began loading items onto the conveyor belt. “I’m broke.”
“You’re always broke,” Tommy commented. “And you know damn well Mom would pay you back. But it’s fine, I got it.” Tommy had never focused much on material things, other than his bikes and his truck. Each time he won a race, he handed the check to his financial planner and said, “Make this grow so I don’t have to be a working shmuck when it’s time to retire from racing.”
Because it was such a physically and mentally demanding sport, he knew he didn’t have many years left. Maybe five, possibly ten if he was damn lucky and worked his freaking ass off every second of every day. And if he retired at forty, he definitely needed a game plan to live comfortably for the rest of his life. He had no other skills. Racing was it.
Once they were back in the truck heading toward his apartment, he asked his brother, “Have you figured out what you want to be when you grow up?”
“Nope.”
Elliot hadn’t gotten a scholarship like Kyle had, so their parents were paying full price for an education that, so far, wasn’t getting him anywhere in life.
“Maybe you should get on that.”
“I’ve got a whole year to make a decision. It’s all good.”
“Do your parents live around here?” Tommy asked Camila.
“Yes. In Royal Oak.”
“That’s not far away. How come you didn’t crash with them this week?”
Camila glanced into the backseat, presumably making eye contact with her sister. “Our dad hates what I do for a living. I probably would have made it about four hours before I realized that dealing with a stalker was easier than listening to him constantly mumbling under his breath about how I’m wasting my life.”
 “Other than staying away, do you have any other plans for getting rid of the stalker?”
She shrugged. “Hopefully, the bouncer at the bar will scare him away before I go back on Friday.”
“Why hasn’t he scared the guy off yet?”
Camila’s cheeks pinked, and she wouldn’t make eye contact. “I didn’t think to ask him.”
Sounded like the beautiful and sassy Camila had a little too much pride when it came to asking for help.
Tommy glanced at his brother in the rearview mirror. “I think we might have plans for Friday night, bro.”
“No,” Camila said, shaking her head. “Besides, you don’t know where I work.”
“Bet your sister does. I’ll leave it to Elliot to extract that info from her. You think we should make Philip go with us?” he asked, looking at his brother again.
“If he’s in town,” Elliot replied.
“Is he another brother?” Camila asked.
“Yep,” Tommy said.
“What’s so special about him?”
“He’s a twenty-six-year-old James Bond. He’ll definitely scare your stalker away.”
He pulled into his designated parking space under the carport that extended the length of the sidewalk running in front of his building. “Come on, I’ll show you how pitifully motocross racers live.”
“This is pretty pitiful,” Camila said a few minutes later, as she looked around while placing a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.
“Told you.”
“Is it a combination of poor taste and no income?”
“Funny. And no. It’s a time thing.”
“He’s almost never home,” Elliot interjected. He began unpacking groceries and putting the various food items into the cupboards. “That’s why Mom got so excited when he agreed to spend the night tonight.”
“Actually, it didn’t feel like she was giving him much of a choice,” Camila pointed out.
Ignoring her comment, Tommy rolled his eyes at his brother. “You’re four and a half hours away at college. Philip was in the Marines for six years.”
“You’ve been traveling non-stop for twenty-two years,” Elliot countered.
“Where the hell did you learn to do math? I’ve been traveling for twelve years, shithead.”
Elliot shrugged and folded the paper bags and stuffed them under the sink. “Ready to head back?”
“Yeah, just let me grab my toiletry bag.”
Tommy headed down the hall with someone two steps behind him. He hoped it was Camila, but when he glanced over his shoulder as he ducked into the bathroom, Madison stood in the doorway, blatantly observing his spartan bedroom. A bed, a chest of drawers, one of the plants Mom gave him, and a nightstand. None of the furniture matched.
Oh yeah, and the gym shorts he wore to bed last night, lying in a heap on the floor.
He snagged his black leather toiletry bag. “Not to your liking?” Not that he cared about her opinion. But he was glad Camila hadn’t wandered back here to see this stark, not-exactly-lived-in space. He hoped she’d see it at some point before the end of the week, but if he played his cards right, she’d be so high on endorphins and lust she wouldn’t care that his bedroom looked as if he lived out of a cardboard box.
“Not what I expected,” Madison said.
“What were you expecting?”
She shrugged. “Disco ball. Maybe a mirror on the ceiling.” She glanced up. “A swing in the corner.”
He chuckled. “Don’t