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“God help us,” Eli grumbles.
“Fuck me,” Braxton says to no one in particular, before turning to Eli and displaying his empty glass. “Another?”
“Absolutely.”
Off they go, but this time Emberleigh and I follow.
“Brax?” I call when we’re all in the kitchen. “Are we going to celebrate or what?”
“Celebrate what?” Emberleigh turns to me after studying him.
“Today is Braxton’s birthday. Thirty-seven… He’s an old, old man.”
“Hey, now.” Eli turns his fiery gaze on me.
“What? You’re old too.”
“Shut up.” Two male voices echo in unison.
Emberleigh’s giggle triggers my laughter. If the two men didn’t seem grumpy, it wouldn’t have escalated, but they both continue to look at each other and grumble for long enough that it trips off another round.
“Oh, does your back hurt?” I poke at my brother, before turning on Elias. “Is your prostate okay?”
The hook of his mouth and the heat in his eyes are not humor. Nor are they anger. It’s like hate flirting only without the hate. It’s forbidden—the fact that he can’t say or do anything. The fine line I’m walking makes it all the more illicit and so much more interesting.
I squirm, and Eli notices. Or at least his eyes register the movement. He smirks.
“Brax, your baby sister has always been trouble.”
“Truer words, my friend. Truer words…” The birthday boy drifts to the table, and Emberleigh follows a few steps behind. Interesting.
I turn to grab the Bluetooth speaker only to get a swift pinch on the ass.
“Ow.”
“You okay?” Emberleigh asks, turning toward me.
“Yeah. I caught the corner of the drawer.” I put my finger in my mouth to feign sucking on it. I’m selling this too hard, but notice Eli when Brax and Emberleigh are distracted and roll my tongue around it.
His eyes flare, but nothing else in his face gives anything away. “Grab a deck while you’re there, Bright. Might as well introduce Emberleigh to the competitive world of Ranger card play.”
I pull the cards from the junk drawer and move them and the speaker to the dining room table, returning to grab the liquor.
“Spades, Hearts, or Poker?” Eli asks as I connect my phone to the speaker and the first thwacks and clicks of ‘9 to 5’ fill the room.
“No.” Eli and Braxton both turn on me.
“No Dolly.” Braxton takes his chair. “Anything but Dolly works.” He turns to Eli. “Hearts. If I’m going to take your money, it will be with skill, not luck of the draw.”
‘American Way’ starts from the speaker, and I pull my chair back, taking the seat opposite Eli.
Two hours later, I’ve taken the pot, raking in money from the three people who continually underestimated my singing and babbling for drunkenness. I’m six hundred and forty-one dollars richer and the only one who won’t have a hangover in the morning.
“Come on, cowboy.” I wave a hand at Eli. “Happy birthday, Brax. I’ll get him home.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder in Eli’s direction.
Little does my brother know…
SIXTEEN
