“Nice to see you, too, Ari,” he grumbles, but makes no move to push past me. I think he’s scared to touch me. Or maybe, he’s just too polite. Oh! Maybe he’s a vampire and needs to be invited in. That would explain a lot about Boston Black, wouldn’t it?
“Are you here to see me or my brother?”
To his credit, he doesn’t balk. Doesn’t wince. Doesn’t sigh at my insistence. He just…watches me. His eyes burn into mine, his mouth fighting a smile that he doesn’t want to show, but I see that bit of fun in you, Boston Black. I’ll pull it out of you.
“I don’t recall you inviting me over,” he says in that gravelly voice.
“Maybe if you give me your number, I will next time.” I smile as innocently as I can and his throat bobs. That’s the line. I’ve found it. That’s where I will end this particular interaction: if I come on any stronger, hewillrun for the hills, and he’s far too fun to play with and way too pretty to let go of. “Let me bring this in for you.”
I take the pizza and push the door open with my foot to let him through.
“Thanks,” he mutters, sliding into the house. He deliberately enters the condo sideways, choosing to keep his body as far from mine as possible so that there is no way we brush against each other.
I fight the urge to laugh.
See? What did I tell you? Fun.
Carter trudges into the room on his phone, his eyes lighting up when he spots his friend. Just as quickly, his gaze slides to me and it morphs into a look of warning.
I smile like an angel, shrugging, and bring the pizza into the kitchen without so much as a glance back at either of them.
“Hey, buddy,” Carter says, slapping his hand into Boston’s. He tugs him to his chest, smacking him on the back. “I told you not to bring anything.”
“Can’t come empty-handed,” Boston says. The depth of his voice makes me want to sigh dreamily. He needs to narrate audiobooks for a living. I want that voice to lull me to sleep and whisper to me in my dreams.
“You Canadians and your inability to listen.” Carter sighs, taking the beer from his hand to bring it to the fridge. He glances at me as he shuts the door. “They’re all the same. Never fails.”
Gentleman, I note. Another good quality. Colour me unsurprised.
Boston pulls out one of the stools at the island and sits. I try not to look at him, but it’s hard. His hair is half pulled back in an elastic and it’s the most endearing, yet sexy thing that I have ever seen. This man has nicer hair than I do. Doesn’t look like a guy who uses a 3-in-1, that’s for sure. He’s got a full head of it, thick and shiny, with an insanely good hairline.
Anothergood quality. His genes.
He might be one of God's favourites.
Within a few minutes, there’s another knock on the door. Carter moves to answer it, but I hold up a hand. He and Boston are in a conversation. I’m just standing here, trying not to insert myself in a way that would piss my brother off.
Declan Lowes, Wyatt Caulfield, and Callum Saltzman are waiting on the other side of the door. I bark out a laugh when I see the pizza in Declan’s hand and the cases of beer in Wyatt’s.
Canadians. They don’t listen.
I smile, leaning against the threshold again. “Password?”
Declan’s hazel eyes dance with amusement. It’s a look that he always sports when I speak, like I’m free entertainment for him. I will always live up to the challenge.
“Ariana Forkerro is the best Forkerro,” he shoots out immediately.
I grin. Brownie point for Declan Lowes. “Good, but nope.”
“Mother Forker,” Wyatt guesses, face serious, like he’s steadfast in winning this imaginary game that I’ve started.
I snort. “Nope.”
“Ari has the best hair on Instagram,” Declan tries again. A joke from a comment I left on one of my brother’s pictures. He gets another point for remembering that.
“No, sorry.”
“Forkerro Roche,” Wyatt tries again.
