Page 12 of Pretty Little Scars

“You don’t usually drink beer.” I watch as my brother saunters to the pool table, where the balls are racked and ready, and he breaks the first game.

“I’m having a shit day,” he says as he chalks the tip of his cue. “One beer won’t hurt anything.”

“What happened?”

He shrugs and leans over to sink a ball. He misses.

“Bad domestic violence call early this morning. The fucker almost killed her.” He shakes his head and sips his beer. “Then, a kid got hit by a car by the school. The driver was drunk and driving fifty miles a fucking hour in a school zone.

“Christ.”

His eyes are tired as they meet mine. “Yeah. And then there’s all the other usual shit and so much damn paperwork, I’ll likely die from boredom.”

“You love your job.”

Easton shrugs. “Most days I do. On days like today, when the woman who had her ass handed to her and was hospitalized with her injuries, and then decides she won’t press charges, I don’t love it so much.”

“Fuck, that sucks.”

“Yeah, so there was that.”

“Back at it tomorrow?

“Not unless I’m called in. I have the next three off. I might come out to the ranch and go for a ride on Saffron.”

“She’d love that,” I reply as I lean over and shoot a ball into the corner pocket. “Hell, come stay for a couple of days if you want.”

“We’ll see. I should do some work around the house. Spring cleanup is upon us.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

“You know, I understand that you wanted the ranch and the house, but that’s a big house to take care of by yourself with all of the other shit you deal with. Hire someone for the landscaping.”

“I don’t need to. I don’t do anything fancy.”

“Still, it would open up some of your time.” He sips his beer. “Hey, how’s the intern?”

“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, watching him.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“It’s true. She’s . . . fine.”

He blinks slowly, and then smiles, his usual cocky personality shining through. “Asheintern. Is she hot?”

I’m going to punch my brother, the cop.

“She’s an employee.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Fuck yes, she’s hot, and I want to fuck her six ways to Sunday.

“She’s . . . attractive.”

“Tuck?”

I lift an eyebrow in question.