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“That was because she was arse first.”
“That explains a lot.” I downed her lettuce juice or whatever it was in one go. “Riggs. Nice to meet you.”
“Thanks for breaking the law for my sister.”
“My pleasure, just needed an excuse.” I winked at Poppins, saluting her with her empty green-juice bottle. She grumbled something inaudible to her gallon of water.
“So, why are you doing that, anyway? Marrying her, I mean,” Kieran asked. “Insanity? Boredom? Are you a minger?”
I let out a raucous laugh. Hard to believe these two shared a womb. He was a working-class hero, and she—a Kate Middleton wannabe. Oil and water.
“I need a fake wife to get my boss off my back.”
That piqued his interest. “She’s making a move on you?”
“Hewants to send me to Alaska for eight months.”
All this time, Duffy was standing there like a decorative plant, her phone angled toward me, hating every moment of my conversation with her brother.
“Well, mate. Good news is, you won’t have to miss the frigid weather, sharing a roof with my sister.”
We both laughed. Duffy jerked her phone back.
“All right, I’ve actually got some plans this evening, so you’ll have to continue this little bonding session later.”
“Later when?” Kieran asked. “I bet Briggs could give me apt advice on how to lure the neighbor into my bed.”
“It’s Riggs,” Duffy ground out. “And I wouldn’t trust him to take care of a dead cactus, let alone give out love advice.”
“Can a cactus really be dead? Or deader than it already is?” Kieran pondered aloud.
“It can,” I supplied. “If you overwater it.”
“Stop talking. Stop bonding. Just ...stop.” Poppins shook her head exasperatedly.
“Your sister can’t get enough of me.” I slapped the towel Duffy had allotted to me over my shoulder, sauntering to the bathroom. “Anyway, I’ll have her text you my number. We’ll figure it out. Hot Neighbor will be rolling in your sheets in no time.”
“Cheers, mate.”
After a quick shower, I strolled back into the living room and noticed Duffy was all dolled up. She wore one of her Duchess of Boredomville dresses, and her hair was plaited. It was unfortunate that the more proper she tried to look, the more sexy-librarian fantasies sprang into my mind.
Poppins didn’t only look like a naughty nun; she also looked mighty guilty.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” She avoided eye contact, securing her earrings in front of a small hallway mirror.
I hoped she didn’t barf into any more of my stuff. That was one quirk too far for me.
“What’s with the face?” I stopped in front of her, shirtless, running the towel over my hair. I was muscular in a sinewy, athletic way, and she was the first woman I’d come across who didn’t try climbing me like a tree when I flashed my six-pack.
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Did you pee in my shoes or something?”
Her jaw fell open. “Why would I wee in your shoes?”
“Because you seem like a vindictive creature, and pissing you off is an untapped talent of mine.”
