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My muscles relax, and I hold the bat at my side. “I almost killed you. What the hell are you doing here?”
Closing my front door, I lock it, then flip on the overhead light. Hayden squints from the brightness and staggers to the couch with a laugh bubbling in his chest.
“You’re drunk…” I say, staring down at the broken vase thatwason my entryway table.
“Just visiting my little brother.” He hiccups, then plops on my couch, kicking his feet onto my coffee table.
“You’re only three months older than me. Stop calling me yourlittlebrother.”
“Tomato,tomato…”
I walk to the kitchen pantry, grab a broom and dustpan, then back to the entryway to clean up the mess.
“I went home with a woman I met at Hendrick’s Pub. That was my first mistake—that place is a shithole. The sex was decent, but she had a stuffed llama collection and her apartment smelled like vinegar. Needless to say, I decided not to stay the night. Then I remembered I had a key to your place. And since you were so much closer and sitting in a moving car right now makes me want to expel the contents of my stomach…” He glances at me as I walk the glass shards I swept up to the trash.
I force a smile. “Happy to have you. Take the guest room.”
Opening the refrigerator, I grab a bottle of water, then a protein bar from my pantry. I set them on the table in front of Hayden and sit opposite him in an armchair.
His eyes scan my bare chest. “You alone?”
I nod. “I was just about to turn in.”
His eyelids heavy with too much alcohol consumption glaze over, and he drops his head back to the couch cushion. “Oh, that’s right, you’ve let your hot little bridesmaid go. Winter, was it?”
The mention of Winter radiates a pang of ire through my body that resonates in my bones. But that’s what Hayden’s after, I’m sure. Spreading my legs and leaning back into the chair to appear unaffected; Hayden’sbête noire.
He lifts his head, stands, signature smirk in place, and staggers to the minibar. He swipes a half-full bottle of Glenfiddich 30 from the shelf, two whiskey tumblers, and walks back to his spot on the couch. He sits, pours a few fingers into each glass, spilling a bit of the liquid onto my coffee table in the process, and slides a glass across to me. I eye the drink without reacting, then bring my eyes back to him.
“Since you’re not doing her anymore, I meandatingher anymore…” His smirk digs deeper. “You mind if I—”
“Don’t,” I warn.
“What?” He shrugs, then slowly sips his whiskey. “What’s a little sharing between brothers?”
“You’re drunk and looking for a fight.” My steely gaze never leaves his half-lidded, drunk one.
“Do you know what she called me…” He hiccups. “She said that I was nothing more than a second-rate Aleck. And that I was second best, maybe even third.”
The corner of my mouth pulls into a smirk. I can actually hear her saying that.Baby bulldog…Mine. I wince, realizing sheusedto be.
“She’s an excellent judge of character.”
“Well…” He tilts his head. “She put her trust inyouand look where that got her.” He shrugs. “So maybe not.”
My fingers tighten over the arms of the chair. My nails dig into the leather until I’m sure I’ve made holes.
“When I asked her out, she told me that even if she didn’t belong to you, which—and she made this pointveryclear—sheone thousandpercent does,did, whatever… She still wouldn’t go out with me.” He takes another sip, eyeing me while he does. “She’s probably wishing she would have listened to me right about now.”
“You asked out my fucking girlfriend?”
“Yourgirlfriend?” He pulls his head back inquisitively, a smile hits his lips. “You’ve lost contact. You’re nothing now. I tried to tell her.”
My muscles strain to keep my poise. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her she was a fling. Easy to fuck, but not good enough to date.”
I snap from my seat, flipping my coffee table out of my way, glass shattering, whiskey splattering all over my floor, furniture, and feet. I grab Hayden by the lapels, hoisting him off the couch until he’s eye level.
