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I narrow my eyes at her words, and the sudden urge to have a word with the hipster bastard is so strong, I can taste it. I know how assholes like this work, and I’d have to be ten feet underground before I’d let him use a photo shoot as a pathetic guise to get into Maybe’s panties.
Not that she’s not beautiful.
But he doesn’t give a shit about some article for New York Weekly. His true motives are written all over his slimy-fucking-face.
“He was kidding.” Maybe rolls her eyes, and Canyon shakes his head.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“See?” Lena grins. “I told you he wasn’t kidding.”
“Well, he should be kidding,” Maybe retorts, and before the photographer prick can respond with words I probably shouldn’t hear, a big, boisterous voice grabs everyone’s attention.
“Milo fucking Ives! You have got to be kidding me!”
I turn around to find the one and only Caplin Hawkins striding toward me with a big, shit-eating grin on his face.
“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he crows. “Sometimes, Mr. Workaholic does come out to play!”
I roll my eyes, but I also grin when he slaps his arm around my back for his version of a bro-hug. “What are the damn odds I’d see you out and about in SoHo tonight? And at a fucking house party, at that.”
But before I even get a chance to respond, Lena is stepping forward and shoving two hands into Cap’s chest.
“Seriously, bro?” she mutters. “Can I go to one damn party without your big ass showing up?”
He laughs. “Aw, I love you too, little sis.”
Little sis?
I glance back and forth between them, and it doesn’t take a genius to recognize the resemblance.
Same eyes. Same chin. Same nose.
Maybe’s new friend Lena is Cap’s sister.
What are the damn odds?
Although, I can’t deny Lena is far more feminine and better-looking than that already big-headed, good-looking bastard I call a friend. And if she is anything like her older brother, I’m slightly terrified that this is who Maybe has been palling around with for the past few weeks.
Maybe looks between us, obviously as surprised as I am that her friend is related to someone I know.
“Maybe, this is my brother, Cap,” Lena introduces them, and her brother offers his infamous overly friendly smile.
But by the time he’s offered his greeting and given her a hug, realization starts to show behind his eyes.
“Wait…your name is Maybe?”
She nods, and immediately, he looks at me.
“Evan’s sister, Maybe?”
Oh shit, here we go.
“You know my brother?” she asks innocently, and Cap grins like the Cheshire cat.
“Yep. I know him and,” he says and reaches out to wrap a strong arm around my shoulders, “this bozo right here.”
Both girls miss the meaning behind his words, but I don’t.
I know exactly what’s running through his nosy-fucking-mind.
“So, let me guess,” he continues and meets Maybe’s eyes. “You’re the reason Milo decided to pull his head out of his workaholic ass and come out for the night.”
She shrugs. “Well, in his defense, I wasn’t really taking no for an answer.”
Cap just grins like he’s got Willy Wonka’s Golden Ticket in his pocket. “Man am I glad I decided to show up at this party tonight. Lots going on.”
The rat bastard doesn’t have to utter another word for me to know exactly what he’s saying.
You’re here with Evan’s off-limits sister, Maybe, and you can bet your ass I’m not going to let this one go until you spill-the-fucking-beans.
Son of a bitch.
“It was a great party until you showed up,” Lena grumbles, but Cap just laughs it off and turns his attention to her.
“C’mon, little sis. I have someone I want you to meet.”
Lena puts a defiant hand to her hip. “Who?”
“Does it really matter?” he questions with a grin.
“Yes, actually, it does.”
Cap ignores her completely, and with an arm around her shoulders, he all but forces her to follow his lead.
“Girl, please excuse me for a minute while I go kick my stupid brother’s ass!” she calls over her shoulder.
Maybe laughs, and it doesn’t take long before they disappear into the throng of dancers in the center of the room and completely out of sight.
But Canyon, the moron, is still standing here, looking at Maybe like he’s trying to come up with another pathetic excuse to get her on her own.
It takes all of two seconds for me to step in before he has a chance to utter a single word.
“You want to grab a drink?” I ask her, and she immediately nods.
“Yes, please.”
I can’t stop myself from reaching out and taking her hand into mine as we head toward the bar set up in the kitchen.
“Thank you,” she whispers toward me, and I quirk a brow as I look down at her.
“For what?”
“For saving me from that creep.”
“You had it handled. I was just trying to save us all from the scene I knew you’d make, kid.” I smirk. “It’s bad manners to turn into a little pit bull at a snobby socialite’s party.”
