Page 5 of Friends to WHAT?!

Sorry, but no, Wolfe Blackwood is not worth meeting.

Sorry, but no, Wolfe Blackwood has never been worth meeting.

I allow myself to wallow in my self-pity for a few minutes, determined not to let it stick. I can have my moment, and then I can regroup.

When Leora’s wound threatens to overcome me, I reopen Sterne’s message to remind myself that my people are here, and they find me worth it.

I drag harsh breaths through my lungs until they don’t burn so much. Then I put Amia to bed, go downstairs, and discuss why I absolutely should not kidnap the love of my life with my (for now) best friend.

Chapter Three

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Are the influencesreallybad?

Wolfe

Once I have Amia tucked up tight in her purple, star-studded bed, I grab my fancy video-and-sound monitor, my wallet, and my keys, and head downstairs to meet Sterne. I find him in a corner booth at the back of Blackwood Brew nursing a glass of what I assume is his favorite bourbon—Wild Turkey Rare Breed, stocked behind the bar just for him. I nod at my friend before approaching the counter for my own beverage.

“One sec, Wolfy!” Poem, my soon-to-be sister-in-law, calls more amicably than I would have expected considering she’s currently striking my existence. Her butterscotch blonde hair swings as she rushes past me to deliver a margarita the size of Texas to a bar staple, Harry. Harry’s silver tooth sparkles when he cackles at the sight, and Poem’s eyes shine as manic as his do in response. They exchange excited words before she jaunts back to me, practically skipping around Fox, her fiancé and my dark-haired twin.

“Whatcha want?” she asks. I could almost believe she’s forgiven me for my part in Fox’s extended self-torment, except now that she’s up close, I can see better than that. She might be smiling, but those teeth are feral, not friendly.

“Guinness,” I answer, doing my very best to insert an apology into the syllables as they pass through my lips.

She sniffs. “Sure.”

I deflate as she pours my draft, and Fox’s sky blue eyes meet my own.I forgive you. It’s okay,he twin telepathies into my brain.

You shouldn’t, though, and it really is not,I twin telepathy back. Unfortunately, of the two of us, Fox has always been the least in tune with the twin bond, and his translation of my message gets lost somewhere around when it hits Poem’s aura, also known as the area where Fox loses all sense of reality and common sense. His eyes catch on her hair, then travel down, over the curve of her waist and lower.

My eyes roll. So much for brotherly reassurance.

Poem manages to get my beer to me with only a slight glint of malice before Fox crowds her, wrapping his arms around her and transforming her irritation with me into a softer, gentler,fakerirritation for him.

I leave before they start making out over the ice well. Again.

As I slide into the embrace of soft, faded black leather, I grimace at Sterne across the booth table. He regards me cooly, thick ginger brows slightly raised, and says nothing.

I clear my throat.

He blinks.

I sigh.

He takes a sip of his drink, and I swear the green of his irises sparkles as I squirm.

“Fine,” I grunt finally. “I’ll go first.”

He hums, ominously. “Well, since you’re the one who called me here, I do think that would be best, yes.”

I take a long slug of my beer, buying time.

“You know, it would probably be less painful if you just spit it out,” he says mildly, a smile threatening to form as he observes my discomfort—and revels in it.

“That’s easy for you to say,” I mumble.He’snot the one being told he should kidnap a woman. He’s not the oneconsideringit.

“Let’s go slowly,” he suggests. “One word at a time. Easy as pie.”