Through the window, I caught sight of Trey working in the garden. A wheelbarrow sat to the side, already half-full of what looked like weeds. And I didn’t miss that Trey himself had lost his T-shirt somewhere along the line. As I lowered myself into one of the two overstuffed chairs by the window, I noticed Emerson’s gaze lingering on Trey. I didn’t blame her. If I hadn’t been so caught up in her brother, I would’ve taken advantage of that view a little longer.
