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Like I’m the Wonder Woman.
Like I’m the goddess.
Like I’m so impossibly beautiful. I slip off my jeans, and I’m drawn to her gaze that caresses the curve of my hips, my mesh thong Yoda panties that reveal too much. But I can’t be self-conscious underneath her rapt attention.
I heat all over.
As she focuses on my bra, her gaze reddens. “You still wear those?” I’m lost, even as she eyes the back clasps, but she’s already adding, “The razorbacks.”
“Oh…” I reach over my shoulder, barely touching the strap. “These reliable things. Yeah they’re still a friend of mine.” When I go to shimmy my panties down, October shifts her gaze quickly. Sadness washes over me.
She walks to the door. “I’ll wait outside.”
“You don—” The shed door shuts behind her. Leaving me alone. “You don’t have to go,” I finish to myself with a sigh. “Way to clear a room, Zoey.” I hurry and get dressed. New panties. Same bra. Glancing more than three times at the shed door.
Hoping October will reappear.
But she doesn’t.
Stop falling for her, Zoey Durand. I can’t be late for a very important date with my second brother. The one I’ve returned for.
CHAPTER 9
October Brambilla
An overcast winter morning, the lake laps roughly against the rocks. Ominous, unfriendly skies. The weather hasn’t been great since Zoey returned, and if I were a bigger believer of fate like her, I’d call that a sign.
I just think it’s fucking cold.
Zoey checks her phone as we hop out of my baby pink Jeep. A gift from Aunt Effie on my sixteenth birthday. My sweater matches the color, but I make sure to grab my white faux-fur coat before shutting the door.
Water swells mightier against the rocks and splashes against the base of a towering lighthouse only a few yards to the west.
“We’re two minutes early,” Zoey says as she pockets her phone. I’m about to slip my arms through my coat, but she shivers, only wearing a black long-sleeved shirt beneath a cropped Star Wars graphic tee.
You watched her change. Yet, I don’t regret staying in the shed for as long as I did. For a moment, I remembered the two of us in high school. How I pulled her shirt over her head and slid my hands along the softness of her skin, the dip of her hips. How she’d draw me closer—our lips a teasing, aching distance. Our eyes devouring first.
We were young. She was a junior. I was a senior.
We’re older now, and things should be different. But she’s still wearing those same razorback bras. She’s still the Zoey I remember, but then again, she’s tougher. Happier? Has she been happier in Chicago without me?
I push aside the thought, and I hold out my coat. “Here, sweets.”
Her cheeks flush, then her lips part. “Kenobi, I can’t—”
“Why?”
She’s already taking the coat from me. “You’re cold.” She touches the soft fur to her nose. Inhaling my floral perfume. When she notices that I’ve caught her, she blushes. “Your smell is intoxicating.”
It is. But that’s not the point.
I eye her intensely. “If you melt anymore, you’ll be a puddle at my feet.”
“I thought you wanted me warm?” She smiles, slipping her arms into my coat.
“I did—I do,” I snap, flustered. Get a grip, October.
Zoey hugs the fur around her, still enamored with my coat. She does look pretty in my clothes. I watch her bury her nose in the fabric again as she says, “I so prefer how a girl smells over man musk.”
I nearly smile. “Me too. Only I always prefer it.”
Before I can tell her I’m not as cold as she looked, the sound of tires on gravel whips our heads.
A beat-up white convertible parks next to my Jeep, and I watch the former Sailing Team Captain climb out.
Parry DiNapoli
Cursed at Age 27
Sailing accident that scarred the most beautiful face in town
The snippet written about Parry in the Museum of Curses & Curiosities stays with me. As do most of the curses of locals. I shouldn’t know them word-for-word, but Amelia’s mom likes to quiz us as a show of superiority.
I willingly play her game. Better to not make enemies of the Roberts—they have too much clout in the town, and Amelia is genuinely my best friend.
Parry shuts the door of the convertible. He doesn’t make it five feet before stopping in place. Eyes pinned to me. He takes one step back like I’m made of dynamite.
Typical.
I’m not destructive like he thinks. I’m usually the thing that keeps people from blowing into smithereens.
I’m the shelter, not the storm.
Not the bomb.
Not the match.
Yet, a part of me believes Parry. Because I know I’m not all good, but I’d never blow up Zoey.
He swings his head to her. “What is she doing here, Zo?”
I step forward. “I came to protect Zoey, something you and her brothers have been failing at for years.”
