Chapter 27

“Good God, man,” Jack grumbled from the doorway. “Must you get up so early?” His hair was a tousle of freshly showered disorder, his chest was bare and his expression a full-fledged scowl. He clutched a pack of cigarettes in one hand and his lighter in the other as if they were life-support equipment.

“I didn’t tell you to get out of bed!”

Jack snorted and headed for the deck. “No one can sleep when there’s ham being cooked in the house, Mason. No one. You’re evil.”

Mason called out a sarcastic thank-you over his shoulder, setting Jack’s plate aside so he could concentrate on the pair of eggs he had frying for himself. He was mid-flip of the first egg when Jack stepped back in and Mason’s cell phone started ringing.

Jack peered at the phone, smirked, and picked it up. “I’ll get it for you.”

“No, that’s all—” Toast popped beside him, the egg started to slip on the spatula, and Jack was already thumbing the screen to accept the call.

“Good morning.”