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“Dream girl,” Rowan mutters as he pulls her back into her chair. I don’t know why her husband bothers. Ashlyn is uncontrollable. Judging by the way he’s staring at her, Rowan loves how uncontrollable his wife is.
I pull my gaze from them. I don’t want a boyfriend or a husband. Monogamy is not for me and I don’t do commitment. Free love is my jam.
“The betting on Project Enemy is hereby opened,” Sage announces.
“Awesome! I’ll have a basket of candles delivered to your house, Eden. I know which ones you enjoy.” Petal winks at me.
“And I have some smexy reading material for you,” Feather says.
“I don’t need any candles or reading material,” I tell them.
“What about reading material about becoming a more tolerant person?” Miller asks.
Riley grins. “This is going to be a ton of fun.”
Brody bumps his shoulder. “Told you it’s more fun when someone else is the target.”
“Ahem.” A woman clears her throat. I glance over my shoulder. It’s Mrs. Bragg. “I believe the town has had enough of your antics.”
Riley clutches his chest. “Ah, mother dearest. No one can ever have enough of me.”
“The same goes for me,” Brody chimes in, “since I’m his twin.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m the charming one. You’re the annoying one.” Riley shoves Brody who shoves him back.
Lyric shoulders his way between the two. “Knock it off, Brody.”
Brody grins. “I’m not Brody. He is.”
Riley wiggles his eyebrows. “Can’t tell us apart, can you?”
“Dumbasses,” Miller grumbles. “You’re wearing different sweaters. Even if Lyric couldn’t tell your idiot faces apart, he’s not stupid.”
Brody raises an eyebrow at Riley who nods before they rip their sweaters off in unison.
“Yowzah!” Ashlyn fans her face. “Moon lucked out.”
Riley winks. “She sure did.”
“This is the best business meeting ever,” Cayenne declares.
“It’s even better than reading a book,” Feather adds.
Miller growls. “Will everyone stop staring at my idiot brothers?” He glares at me as he speaks. What the hell is his problem?
“You’re not the boss of me!” I shriek.
“Someone should be.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you saying women need men to control them?”
The women in the crowd gasp.
“Women don’t need men to control them, but you need someone to remind you to wear shoes.”
I glance down at my feet. Darn it. I must have kicked off my shoes after sitting down.
“What is your obsession with my feet?”
