Page 7 of Blush Crush

There are few things I enjoy more than getting my dick wet, but chocolate croissants are pretty up there. Specifically, Ariana’s chocolate croissants.

My sister Nora watches me with mild disgust as I practically inhale the last of it. It’s the only thing I’ve eaten all day.

After leaving Novel, I glanced across the way and saw the lights still on at Red Mountain Law, where Nora had her head buried in a stack of papers. She’s always working too hard.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” She lifts a brow, her lips curving into a smile. She can pretend she’s irritated with my unexpected drop-in, but we both know she’s not.

“Saw you were burning the midnight oil, thought I’d pop in and say hi.”

“It’s seven, which is hardly midnight.” Her eyes narrow, but her smile only broadens.

A genuinely upset Nora is a rare occurrence.

Nora embodies joy. She’s truly the light of our family. Sometimes I think rooms dim as she exits them, like maybe she’s the source of too much energy, and it can’t help but conduct through everything in reach.

Where I lack in anything that resembles vulnerability, Nora shows up with a surplus.

It still amazes me she became a lawyer, and a damn good one at that. No one would’ve guessed the heart she wears on her sleeve could be so easily masked in the courtroom.

But for all her perceptiveness, she’s never managed to turn that clarity onto the men she lets into her life. The latest one she made the mistake of marrying, so now we’re all stuck with him.

“Doesn’t it bother Levi when you work this late?”

She shakes her head, gaze dipping to roam over paperwork. She’s unbothered by my question because it’s never occurred to her that a good husband would probably worry about her. Maybe check in. Maybe give a shit.

“Not really. He’s a workaholic too.”

Is he a workaholic or does he just have her convinced he really is spending all those late nights at work? I’ve never trusted the guy, but I’ve been careful about keeping my thoughts to myself. If Nora is happy, then that’s all that matters. Even if I think she deserves better.

“What about you? You’re not usually in this part of town at this hour.”

I shrug, resting my hip against the vacant desk of her partner. “I was dropping off some cases of the new Merlot to serve tomorrow, and then I stopped by Novel, and now I’m here, gracing you with my presence.”

“Thanks for bringing me something,” she says flatly.

Had I known she was still working, I would have. Though I’m not sure I could’ve squeezed a second croissant out of Ariana. She was more frazzled than usual, a side effect, I can only assume, of that tool she couldn’t stop mooning over.

“I can run out and grab you something.”

Nora laughs. “I’m kidding. Levi is taking me out to dinner. He’ll be here any minute.”

Well, at least the guy feeds her. Not sure he does much else, but it’s something.

She tilts back in her chair, the look on her face suspicious enough to make my stomach turn. It’s the same look Mom gets when she’s pointing out a woman with good birthing hips. Because those are things I should be on the lookout for, apparently.

“Guess who I ran into.”

Based on her tone alone, I know I won’t like the answer.

A series of disgruntled women I’ve left in the dust flash in my memory like a suspect list being laid out by law enforcement. I wasn’t always as honest as I am now about my lack of interest in anything beyond casual. But it seems even with honesty, there are always the few who think they will be the ones to change me. Recently I’ve lost interest in the rigmarole of it all. Maybe it’s because of my age, or maybe it’s because if my mom catches even the slightest hint of a woman in my life, she starts celebrating nonexistent grandchildren. As the oldest, it was assumed I’d be the first to hold the title of parent, but lucky for me, my younger brother Wyatt knocked up his high school girlfriend, thus taking some of the heat off me.

I shrug, not interested in trying to guess. Normally I’d be up for playing along, but for some reason my mood soured the moment I left Ariana behind with that defeated look on her face. And that douchebag poet with a gleam in his eyes.

“Just tell me.”

“Whitney.”

My body stills. It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name.