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She’s smart, witty, devious. Her mind works in such hopelessly enchanting ways, leading her every graceful movement with calculation that shortens my breath.
I have learned nothing of importance.
But if I were to close my eyes, I could graph the shape of her into the darkness and conjure the taste of her one brief kiss with such precision it…it scares me.
Aster hasn’t learned anything of use from within The Giungla itself. The most information he’s provided concerns Briar’s impeccable organization. His transition to guiding her family went seamlessly—because every instruction is clear, and every member trusts her leadership to a fault.
It’s not the news I wanted, by any means. It does nothing to help my current issues.
I wish she were horrible to live with. I wish she left her clothes all over the floor and her toothpaste all over the sink. I wish she kept the light on late, or she snored. It’s physically painful to catch a glimpse of her tucked into my bed—like a princess—with her hands tucked beneath her chin.
Every night, she falls asleep smiling. Every morning, she wakes with a pretty little stretch at the exact same time.
Her routine is flawless. She’s flawless.
Sagging deeper into the couch, I press my palms to my eyes and attempt to stave off the sensation of drowning.
I want her.
And it gets worse every day.
No matter how adamantly I tell myself I can’t stand her.
My heart lurches when my bedroom door opens, and I jolt upright as Briar sashays in with Cupcake curled around her shoulders. She’s wearing one of the outfits she bought at Target: a pair of capris matched with an off-the-shoulder shirt depicting a bleeding black rose.
I hate how well it suits her.
I hate how she’s casually proving that it really doesn’t matter what she wears—not when my horrible mind seems content to picture anything she’s wearing on the floor.
A curse sticks in my brain. She’s so…beautiful.
Reminding myself how to breathe, I murmur, “No snakes near small birds.”
She pauses halfway to the bathroom, glances at Bugsy where he’s chirping away in his cage, and shrugs. Turning on her heel, she reaches me where I’m sitting and deposits all sixty pounds of her boa constrictor on top of my legs. “Here, you watch her while I clean up. Chip, Lace, and I are going out for ice cream. Want to double date?”
The sensation of Cupcake nosing between my knees makes my skin crawl, so I do my best to redirect her energy. “Sorry. I’m…busy.”
Briar grazes her fingers through my hair and smiles—sweetly. “Would you like me to bring something home for you?”
“It would melt.”
“I can take a cooler with me. Or it doesn’t have to be ice cream.” Her fingers slipping through my hair rewrite the coding in my brain, and I don’t appreciate it. “You work so hard. It’s not any trouble, but if it were, you would be worth it. I think you deserve a sweet little treat.”
I deserve to not be abused with gentle caresses. They are unfamiliar and disrupt the beat of my heart. Plainly put, I am too fricken old to have a crush. It’s going to give me an aneurysm.
Cupcake digs her nose between my thigh and the couch cushion, burrowing. I glare at the pale creature, if only to keep my attention off Briar. “You’re not here on vacation. Have your contacts made any progress finding a lead on the Maxim Project?”
“Sad boi.”
I flinch.
Briar kisses my forehead. “Poor, deprived sad boi.”
My eyes clamp shut. “Briar—”
“No friends. No free time. No ice cream.” Resting her cheek against the top of my head, she releases a dramatic sniffle and…coddles me. But of course she does. “Pitiful sad, sad, itty bitty boi.”
“Princess…” I warn.
