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Bailey in a bikini.
On my lap.
In front of everyone.
They’d know who she belonged to.
Needless to say, I volunteered to man the grill for the first few hours in appreciation.
“I won’t hurt her, but you need to back off, squirt. Let us figure it out first.” It was worth a try. Since yesterday, I’d been avoiding her and the multitude of questions she’d thrown at me. “Plus, we need to go downstairs and help get ready. Everyone will be here in under three hours.”
“Figure what out? Bailey’s been in love with you since before turning ten.” Her eyes widened, and she looked panicked. “Forget it. You’re right...I’m out—”
Before she could get up from her spot, I’d flipped myself toward the end of the bed and grabbed her wrist. “Finish that thought. How long?”
“I’m not helping you build ammunition against her. Team Bailey, sweetheart.” Nimble fingers pried my own from her wrist and then proceeded to dust herself off as if I bored her. “Plus, I already have her version of the events and a promise.”
“Talk.” I stood with her, kicking the rest of my sheets off that I’d burritoed myself with. Hovering over her small stature, I crossed my arms over my chest and raised a brow. Emily was after something. It was clear now. “What do you want? What’s it going to cost.”
Emi gasped, hand over her chest. “How could you even insinuate that, Hunter?”
“Drop the demure act and spit it out,” I groused, bumping my shoulder with hers on the way to my bedroom door. Once opened, I looked back at her. “Tell me.”
“Fine.” With an annoyed pout, she walked out and paused just outside the threshold. “Can you please be nice to my boyfriend and his brother today? Not cause any problems.”
I mimicked her hopeful expression. “Not likely. Can’t stand that ass.”
No need to elaborate about whom I was referring to. We both knew it was only a matter of time before I confronted Brad.
Boys like him didn’t learn the uncomplicated way. Too hardheaded to admit defeat.
“What’s it going to cost to keep it civil? Thomas needs to have a talk with Dad, and we need things to be kosher.”
“About what?”
“None of your business.”
“Then the deal’s off.”
I moved to close the door, but she put her foot in the way. “Must you complicate everything?”
“Yes.” No shame in that answer either. There was a lot more going on that she wasn’t sharing, and it seemed to be huge. It smelled of corruption—of plans I had no interest in helping her with.
“Fine…”
“Go on,” I prompted with a wave of my hand.
“We want to take a week-long cruise together before our first semester. And before you start,” she snapped, “put the big brother card away. You left and lived your life. I’m now eighteen and going to do the same.”
Whatever asshole reply I had on the tip of my tongue died. Inadvertently, I had hurt her.
Before she could stomp away in a fit, I pulled her in for a tight hug. “You’re right, Emily. I’m sorry for the disappearing act.”
“Why?” There was no reason for her to elaborate when I knew just what she was asking.
Why had I never come home?
Why did I keep communication between us a bit limited?
