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“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t. You’re stalling.” Heath calls my bluff.
“I’ll do it. I promise.”
“Are you busy tonight?” Ford asks.
Since I planned on being at the auction, they know I’m not busy.
“Exactly. Let’s go.” Ford leans down, grabs my hand, and tosses me over his shoulder.
I pound on his back to put me down, but quickly realize my short skirt has ridden up. Reaching behind myself, I fail to tug it down. Thankfully, James comes up with a solution. He gathers all three bidder paddles and holds them up behind my butt.
My worry about not getting bid on is long forgotten. My brothers have found new heights of embarrassment for me.
Two
Maggie
Afteralotofgrumbling, I convince Ford to drive to my house so we can sort this out. It’s the only strand of control I have. And I’m barely hanging onto it.
The thing that most unsettles me is that I want to let go.
I liked being over Ford’s shoulder. I liked James paying attention to my butt. I liked the way Heath helped me to the ground so gently when we got to the car.
Sitting in the backseat next to Heath, I saw him reply to a text from his dad saying that they couldn’t hang out with him because they have other plans.
Me. I am the plan. My heart flutters at the potential.
My plan for the evening had been to swap my skimpy Santa dress for sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that Jameson doesn’t know I stole from him a couple of years ago. His scent is long gone, but I love being surrounded by…him.
I also planned on putting a scoop of mulling spices into the diffuser, simmering it in apple juice, then popping my fuzzy-sock-covered feet up while I enjoy the hot apple cider from my favorite mug while watching the Hallmark Channel.
My Plan A cautiously gives way to Plan B as I lead the three of them up the stairs to my apartment. If only I understood what Plan B entailed.
The ringtone for my mom ripples through the night air as I step onto my private balcony. Does she have some kind of mom radar for reminding us to be nice to each other?
I click the screen to ignore the call.
Before unlocking my door, I turn to the guys and say, “My house, my rules. No picking on the little sister. No ganging up on me. No—“
“We’re not your idiotic teenage brothers anymore. We’ve matured. I promise. We know how to treat a woman.” James caresses the back of his hand over my cheek.
Wooziness washes over me as I imagine a flicker of interest. Will I really get what I wanted all these years? Can I forgive them for all the big brother taunts? Every cell of my being wants to believe him.
Turning to the door, I hold the knob as much for stability as to unlock and open it. I step into the entry nook, and motion for the guys to go to the right, which leads to the living room and kitchen. The opposite way opens to a small hallway with a bathroom and bedroom. I guess the designer thought an official entry would make the apartment feel nicer.
Heath and Ford make themselves comfortable on my couch, but James waits in the entry while I lock the door.
“Go ahead. Make yourself at home.”
The flicker of interest I’d seen is no longer a flicker and has become more mischievous. Is he holding back a taunt? I study him, noting that he hasn’t changed his bad boy haircut that parts on one side and the long bangs hang down, grazing his eyes.
I shake off the way-too-familiar attraction my body betrays me by harboring. My defensive walls seem like a better option.
“Not changing your haircut in seven years isn’t exactly a sign that you’ve matured, but whatever.”
Those damn bangs still make my sex tingle, still cause me to have trouble breathing, and I still want to be the woman he gives a smoldering gaze to as he looks through them.
