“Had a sister,” he corrected.
I suddenly remembered the picture in his room of him, Cal, and an older girl. A sister.
“I-I didn’t know,” I said lamely, unsure how to respond.
“I wouldn’t expect you to. My father likes to pretend she never existed. Her life and death were a black mark on the Sinclair reputation, according to him. I’m sure your mother knows, but also probably knows better than to bring her up.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, all teasing forgotten now that the conversation had veered into unexpectedly deep territory.
“Me, too,” he said, quiet.
Questions burned in me about what had happened to her. Was it illness or an accident? I had no idea, but right now didn’t seem like a good time to pry.
Silence stretched out between us. Why had he called me? I couldn’t make sense of it. Not to talk about his sister, surely,given how quiet he was being. Maybe to distract himself? I thought of his earlier messages. Yes, he was looking for a distraction. And that was my area of expertise.
“While I have you, can you just remind me where you put my stuff? There’s something I need,” I asked, tone light, testing to see if a subject change would be welcome.
“What do you need?” came his immediate reply.
“Just something.”
“You can get it when I get home,” Brody said predictably.
I huffed a long sigh. “You’re so controlling.”
“And you’re so badly behaved. Don’t forget your run tomorrow morning.”
I laughed. “If you think I’m going running without you dragging me out of bed, you’re delusional. I’ll be lounging around in bed as long as I want, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I can make you run extra when I get back,” he reminded me.
I tossed my hair and stood, keeping my eye on the camera.
“That’s a problem for future me. Now, I’ve just realized since you’re not here, I can go and properly search for the stuff you hid.”
“What makes you think I hid it at home?”
“You’re just not that creative,” I goaded him and moved around the end of the island.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Brody suddenly asked.
I stopped and looked down at myself, belatedly remembering taking off the tight work pants as soon as I was through the door. So, he hadn’t been watching then?
The remaining white blouse more than covered my panties and stopped high on my upper thigh. Still, it wasn’t something I’d ever leave the house in, which Brody clearly thought I had.
“A dress, why?” I asked innocently, unable to stop myself from messing with him.
“A dress?” he repeated, his voice a growl. “Turn around.”
My skin heated as I twisted, knowing it was shorter in the back.
Brody muttered a curse.What am I doing?This was treading into the same dangerous waters as the other night.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can nearly see your arse,” he said, flat.
“And don’t tell me, that’s against the rules?” I sighed, enjoying his frustration. Why was pushing his buttons so damn entertaining?
