Page 17 of Crushes to WHAT

Fox runs the gamut of emotions, cycling through disbelief, relief, eye-rolling annoyance, disbelief again, then, finally, amused disbelief. He snorts. “You’d have no clue if Emerson was into you.”

I narrow my eyes at my towering brother. “I would too.”

His lips twitch. “Almond, you’d have no clue.”

“I would have all the clues,” I retort. “I’m not an idiot.”

Poem begins to sober, but lasts only long enough to say, “Idiots-to-lovers is a good trope,” before she loses herself to laughter once again.

Fox looks down at her, eyes soft and shoulders loose of their usual tension.

I glare at them both. “I don’t find this funny.”

“You wouldn’t,” Poem wheezes. “But I assure you, it is.”

“It’s really not.” I huff.

“It really is,” Fox counters.

I scrunch my nose at him, then decide to let it go. They’re in the happily-ever-after portion of their love story. They’re bound to be a little wonky because of it. “By the way, I made a deal with Emerson. He wanted to do the work in my studio at cost, but I wasn’t comfortable with that, so I offered him free haircuts for life plus free drinks for life.”

Fox’s amusement flees. “You can’t be serious. I thought Poem was joking about that.”

“I told you I wasn’t,” Poem chuckles, wiping tears from her eyes. “That’s what makes this all so funny.”

“It’s really important that you give him free drinks,” I say. “He’s doing a lot of work and not only losing money, but sacrificing his after-work time for it, as well. If I don’t hold up my end of the bargain, that’s not cool.”

“It’s not your end of the bargain,” Fox grumbles. “It’s my end of a bargain you made. You can’t offer stuff from my business for your sketchy dealings.”

My brows furrow. “Why not?”

“Because it’s mine?” he asks incredulously.

“I mean… my name is on it, too,” I reply, logically.

His eye twitches.

Poem steps between us. “Emerson will get his free drinks,” she assures me. “We don’t charge family, anyway.”

“We definitely charge family,” Fox objects.

Poem rolls her eyes. “Of course we don’t charge family, Fox. That’s ridiculous.”

“Poem,” he says her name slowly, dangerously, as his eyes narrow at the back of her head.

“Fox,” she retorts, spinning to return his grumpy gaze.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been handing out free drinks to every person that shares blood with one of us.”

“Okay,” she says. “I won’t tell you that.” She turns back to me. “I’ve totally been handing out free drinks to anyone who shares blood with us,” she blabs. “And anyone related by marriage. Or anyone almost related by marriage. Or, now, anyone who should be related by marriage.” She grins, and my favorite manic light sparks on the edge of her irises. “Don’t you worry one bit. I’ve got you.”

“I’m going to strangle you,” Fox rumbles, low and irate. “The bar is going to go under if you discount every other drink you make.”

“I’m not discounting every other drink I make, Fox.” She rests her hands on her hips and twists, shoving an elbow into his stomach.

He grunts.

“At most, it’s more like every third drink. I saw the bar finances last time we were in the office. I think we’ll be okay if I let our loved ones know how appreciated they are.”