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“I’m dressed!”
“Those look like pajamas.”
“So? They’re comfy.” I raise my gaze past her to the tall guy standing behind her. “Cas, back me up here.”
But Castle just shakes his sandy blonde head and lifts a muscled shoulder apologetically.
“Cillian wants you dressed properly, kid.”
I roll my eyes at the word kid, but I let it go. Castle’s been Eilish’s and my—I suppose the word is “bodyguard”—for the last ten years. Growing up, all of our friends drooled over the six-and-a-half-foot tall, built-like-a-quarterback shadow that was always with us. That, or they weresureone of us was going to get scandalously tangled up in some steamy, x-rated tryst with him.
But,no way. No way to an “eww” degree. Yes, Castle is ridiculously handsome. But to Eilish and me he’s always beenthe older brother we never had. And we’re the perpetually annoying-but-loveable kid sistershenever had.
Which is why he can still get away with calling me “kid” or doing annoying big brother-type shit like messing up my hair even though I’m twenty-four.
I stick my bottom lip out, giving Castle my best puppy-dog eyes.
“ButCaaaastle?—”
“Enough with the waif eyes. Go get changed, Neve,” he grunts. “Your uncle isn’t exactly one to mince words, and he wants you dressed up.”
“Butwhy? What’s this meeting even about?”
Eilish shrugs. “Beats me. Bet it has something to do with your new neighbor, though.”
Annoyed as I am to be forced to give up my sweatpants and hoodie, I know Castle well enough to know there’s no way he’s budging on this. And I know my Uncle Cillian well enough to know that one, there’s no wiggle room here, but more importantly two, there’s a reason he wants us looking sharp. Even if I have no idea what that reason is.
I root around in my disaster zone of a bedroom, stripping out of my hoodie and sweats and pulling on clean underwear and clothes. Five minutes later, I emerge in a green puff-sleeve top, black jeans, and heeled black boots, shoving my long red hair up in a loose ponytail.
Eilish, predictably, rolls her eyes.
“That’sdressed up?”
“I could go back to my extensive sweatpants collection, if you prefer.”
Eilish sighs, reaching up to smooth the single errant lock of blonde back behind her ear. She’s right. I’m still fairly casually dressed. Especially next to my princess of a little sister, who looks like a modern-day blonde Jackie-O in a pink Chanel jersey dress and heels, her hair and makeup immaculate. Atnine-thirty in the freaking morning, no less. So sue me, this is the best I can do.
Finally, she grins as she rolls her eyes again.
“Okay, okay, fine. C’mon. We shouldn’t be late.”
“Hey, I’m not the one getting bent out of shape about the dress code.”
I glance to Castle for at least a chuckle. But he’s looking even more grim and stoic than usual.
“What’s up with you?”
He shrugs, turning away.
“Just don’t want to be late. C’mon.”
I frown. “Cas, seriously, what’s up?”
There’s a glint in his eye when he glances back at me for half a second. But still, he gives nothing away.
“Let’s get where we need to go, kid,” he murmurs quietly.
I shoot Eilish a puzzled look as we follow him out the door. But she just shakes her head and gives me an “I have no idea” face. Given that my sister is incapable of being anything but cheerful,talking shit aboutanyoneno matter how terrible they are, or lying in any capacity, it’s clear she’s also in the dark.
