“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU forgot to check the gas tank.” Heathcliffe glared at Clovis, his handsome, stubbled face creased on one side from resting against the car seat.
“You should have told me when we switched drivers that we were low.” Clovis crossed thickly muscled arms over his broad chest and glared right back at his younger brother. Clovis’ military buzz-cut spiked untidily at the top, as if he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it. “Besides, if you hadn’t dragged me out of bed in the middle of the flippin’ night my brain might not be half asleep and I might have thought of it.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Alf laughed from the back seat, slapping his younger brother on the shoulder. “So we heard. Still afraid of mommy, Heathcliffe?” Alf’s dark red hair was perfectly styled, and, as us
