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“Calm down. My guest is getting dressed. Don’t you want me to clean up?”
“I want you to leave. Take the sheets with you. I don’t have the time nor inclination for a trip to the incinerator.”
He picked up a wineglass and slugged back the contents. Wine as a shooter. Nice. Only my brother.
“Aren’t you an environmentalist? Burning perfectly good sheets seems pretty wasteful.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “They were perfectly good until your bare ass touched them. I don’t want them in my house anymore.”
He waved me off. “Dramatics. The sheets are fine. You probably paid a mint for them. Organic cotton, is it? Nothing but the best for Westie.”
There was resentment there, and I’d never known why. Miles and I had grown up with the same privileges, the same opportunities. We’d both gone to Ivy League colleges. Never had to struggle. I’d launched my business while still in college. Miles had yet to even launch himself.
He took digs at me. Laughed at my successes. Acted like the most put-upon man in the state of Colorado. Yet he’d taken the job I’d offered. Had accepted the perks of being an Aldrich—of which there were many.
He was given respect simply because of his last name.
Still, the resentment festered.
“If you’re interested in what the sheets are made of, why don’t you grab them and your guest on your way out? Give me the key before you go.”
He rolled his eyes. “Enough with the sheets. You wouldn’t have known I was ever here if you hadn’t shown up early. That’s on you.”
A shocked laugh exploded out of me. “That’s on me? Where do you get off?”
It was then his guest emerged. She couldn’t have been over twenty. I hoped like hell she was over eighteen. Miles danced the line of inappropriate, but if he was trolling the local high school for dates, I’d call the cops myself.
“How old is she?”
Miles turned to the girl. Small and blonde, her makeup was smeared and her minidress was inside out. A little girl playing dress-up and getting it all wrong.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” he cooed at her.
“I’m twenty-one.” Her upper lip curled. “You said this was your place. What, do you like, live with your dad or something?”
That made Miles snicker. “My dad. Holy fuck, you’re great.” He turned to me, his forehead crinkled with amusement. “Did you hear that? That stick up your ass is aging you, bro. You look old enough to be my dear old father.”
My nostrils flared. Not because I was insulted by some young girl who couldn’t even put her clothing on correctly—no, it was because they were both still inside my home.
“Get out.” My jaw was too tight. My dentist had already warned me I was bound to crack a molar. “Leave the key.”
Miles sighed like I was asking a lot of him then ushered the girl out. While he dealt with her, I sat down on the couch and scrolled through my neglected texts. I clicked on Elliott’s.
Elliott:Elise is moved in.
Succinct. That was Elliott Levy, my best friend since childhood. His younger sister, Elise, had needed a place to live in Denver, and I’d secured an apartment in my building. Although I hadn’t seen her yet, she’d been back in town for a couple weeks and had moved in this weekend while I was camping.
Me:Good. Does she like it?
Elliott:She’s pleased. The building is secure, and most importantly, her ex has no idea where she is.
Me:Did you give her my number? In case she needs anything.
Elliott:I’m sure she has it.
I wasn’t so certain. If she did have it, she hadn’t used it in years.
Miles plopped on the other end of the couch. He hadn’t left with his guest. Hadn’t even escorted her downstairs.
