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“Sure. But I’ve seen videos. And I’m a pretty fast learner,” Cal reassured her. “Other than that time I built an IKEA chair upside down. But I’d had one too many eggnogs and it was four a.m.”
What the fuck? I wasn’t going to let this woman-child hurt my unborn niece. I banged the door open with my fist without knocking.
“Get the hell away from my sis—”
Both of their heads flew up in unison. They were sitting on the bed. My sister had one breast in Cal’s hand—covered by Cal, thank fuck—little plastic shot cups scattered everywhere around them.
“Sweet Jesus, Row!” Dylan quickly shimmied her shirt down, protecting her modesty. “I’m not decent!”
“Unfortunately, that’s not new.” I screwed my fingers into my eye sockets.
“Hey, Row,” Cal chirped.
“Hey, pain in the ass.”
“You’re twenty minutes early.” Cal raised one clear shot cup, squinting at it.
So now it was a crime to be punctual?
“Why were you trying to murder my sister’s breast?” I glowered at Cal. The tips of her hair were pink now, which probably meant she was feeling somewhat hopeful.
Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m about to rectify that situation quickly.
Cal perked up in her denim vest and kilt. If the phrase “you are what you wear” were a thing, she would be a color-blind toddler.
At least she wore Blundstones, a good waiting choice.
“I’ll have you know I tried to squeeze colostrum for the baby so that when she arrives, she’ll have all the nutritious goodness.”
“It was horrible.” Dylan hung her haunted glare on my face. “Squeezing colostrum is basically bullying your boobs until they cry.”
“Too much info.” I brought a palm up, shaking my head. “Too little alcohol in the world to erase the mental image. Dot, grab your shit. We’re leaving.”
“Argh, but it’s so boring here alone in this stupid bed.” Dylan rubbed at her belly, blowing a lock of hair from her face. “How many serial killer documentaries can one consume before becoming one?”
“I’ll come back soon.” Cal placed a hand on Dylan’s shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “With Sour Patch Kids, tamales, and refried beans.”
“And you’ll leave my nipples alone?” My sister’s lower lip jutted out in a pout.
“No promises. We need to make sure Baby Reid has everything she needs.” Cal hopped up to her feet, bending down to pick up her backpack, giving me an eyeful of her ass. I redirected my gaze to the ceiling, fighting a blush.
My sister barked out a laugh. I hated everyone and everything. Fuck my life. I should not be affected by this woman’s small, unremarkable ass when I had supermodels throwing themselves at me on the reg.
“So, Cal, do you still find my brother hot?” Dylan tutted.
“No!” Cal’s ears pinkened. “God, no! I… We… No.”
I wanted to say the feeling was mutual, but unlike her, I wasn’t a liar. Even though I despised her, it had to be said—Cal looked like a porcelain doll with those huge, glittery sapphire eyes and strawberry mouth. The only things that made her look fully human were those freckles peppered across her nose, like poppy seeds.
Dylan’s laugh transformed into a wicked cackle. “Oh God. You two.”
“Don’t worry. He hates me now.” Cal shot me an accusing look. “Right, Row?”
I turned around and started down the stairs.
It was going to be a long-ass seven weeks.
ROW
