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I cut my eyes to him. “Did I?”
“According to my doorbell camera, you arrived a couple of hours after she did, and you guys left together the next morning.”
Graham lets out a low whistle.
“The man is always watching,” I mutter.
Weston grins. “This man is. So, spill. What’s the story?”
“The story is, I’m an adult, and you assholes can bite me.”
“Oh, defensive. That means there is definitely a story,” Corbin goads.
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I ask.
“Do you even know what the Spanish Inquisition was?” Graham asks.
“It’s where some Spanish guy’s brothers showed up and questioned him till he died,” I snap.
“Sure, we’re as bad as the judicial system whose brutal methods led to widespread suffering and death for the entire Spanish kingdom,” Corbin quips.
“What?”
“He’s saying that you’re exaggerating, princess,” Weston explains.
“Whatever. If Langford would finish warming the toilet seat, I’d like to take a shower so we can get some work done.”
Langford comes lumbering down the hallway. “I’d light a candle if I were you.”
“Fucking great,” I mumble.
“Come on, Morris. Give us something,” Weston whines.
“What are y’all ragging him about now?” Langford asks.
“Zoey.”
Langford throws up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
“Liar. You’re dying to know if the two of them are a thing,” Weston accuses.
“Oh, I know they are. I just don’t want to know details about my sweet head ski instructor and my bonehead brother.”
“Sweet?” I scoff.
“Yep. Sweet Zoey. You’d better not dick her around.”
“I’m your brother. Shouldn’t you be worried about her jerking me around?”
They all laugh.
“Thanks, assholes.”
Weston gets me in a headlock and gives me a noogie.
I punch him in the nuts.
“Hey!” he yells as he steps away.
