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“So detailed,” Liam taunts.
“What?” I spout, rebuffing their misguided assumptions. “It’sthe least we can do since we’re upending her whole future. Women care about their wedding day regardless of why it came about. She won’t even have her parents or best friend here. And,” I add for good measure, “the happier she is, the better she’ll cooperate.”
“That’s a very well-thought-out argument,” Ty quips.
“Want me to take some of the load off of Ty, help Ivy try on dresses or get …waxed?” Liam asks, which Ty finds far funnier than I appreciate.
I ignore them both, shrugging my blazer on. “Let’s go. We’ll have a pre-wedding-day lunch before she needs to be at the dress shop.”
Liam snickers, plucking his cigarettes and Zippo from the table and stuffing them in his gray dress slacks. “You sound almost giddy, Chief. Looking forward to finally fucking that bride of yours, huh?”
“Do you have to be such a goddamn motherfucker all the time?” I bark, stuffing a cherry lollipop in my mouth instead of slamming his face into the wall. This might be business, and he may be family, but him even thinking about what’s mine like that ends today.
He smooths out his coordinating gray T-shirt with a grin. “Plenty of people findthatto be my most appealing quality.”
Deciding it’s best to let that lie so as not to be riled before seeing the Little Storm, I lead us out the door. We make our way to the pool, and the sight of Ivy halts my steps. Lying on a daybed, she’s stretched out like a feline, every subtle curve on display beneath thetinyroyal-blue bikini. I might need to burn that. The triangles leave little to the imagination. Her fiery tresses are bunched into a messy bun on top of her head with a few wisps fluttering about her face and neck. She stares through her white-framed Jackie O-style glasses at a book, AirPods in, foot bopping, probably to the beat.
Fucking gorgeous.
“Jesus Christ,” Liam spits out at the same time Ty breathes, “Goddamn. Great side boob.”
I’m going to end up killing the both of them. “The fuck? Thought she was like a sister, Tytan?”
“More like a stepsister,” he drawls, never taking his eyes off her. “Which means admiring is completely acceptable.”
“No, it’s not,” I hiss. “She’s. Off. Limits. Even in your thoughts. Got it?”
“Thought she was a business deal, Chief, a means to an end?” Liam jabs, squaring his shoulders to me while Ty chuckles.
“Still true, but still mine.” I eye them both. “Don’t push it.”
Gage saunters over, stopping before us, arms crossed and usual scowl in place, taking the three of us in. “Enough fucking drooling. Half a decade of work, drowned in a pussy. Pathetic.” He ignores the heated warning daggers I shoot at him and holds his unforgiving gaze on me. “That girl over there is trouble for you, for all of us. We should’ve stuck with the original plan. We still can.”
Fuck that.
Ty scoffs. “We’re not throwing her to the wolves alone, man.”
Liam hangs a cigarette from his lips, shielding his Zippo flame from the balmy breeze. “Aww. Is the little girl getting under your skin, Big Guy?”
He grunts. “She’s a damn ballbreaker.”
Ty furrows his brow. “After the trouble you’ve given her, what’d you expect? A book club meeting?”
Liam sucks in a deep drag. “Ivy didn’t let you read with her, brother?”
“Oh, no,” Gage balks. “After two hours, bored as hell, I yanked her earbud out and asked what she was reading—an attempt to show interest and prove I’m not always a dick. She licked her lipsslowlyand told me she was reading some book about a big, tatted muscleman who has sex with the girl he’s guardingin public. When my mouth fell open, speechless, she hummed, forehead pinched in thought, and added that the girl slits his throat.”
The three of us erupt into laughter. She can certainly strike unexpectedly—I’ll give her that.
Gage huffs, clearly annoyed by us finding humor in her game. “I ripped the book from her, pissed off, and read the synopsis onthe back to find out it’s about some fucked-up stepsibling romance. Who the hell reads that shit?”
Liam smacks Ty on the back, who’s howling, which garners a peeved groan from me. None of which slows Gage down.
“When I called her on it, she blinked up at me through her long, curled lashes and said, ‘My bad. Must’ve been fantasizing.’ ” Those last two lines are delivered in his best high-pitched girlie voice—not at all like Ivy’s, but funny nonetheless.
He stares at me. “I’m telling you, Wells, trouble.”
“It’s under control.” I pat his bicep before eagerly erasing the remaining steps leading to Ivy and perching on the daybed next to her sexy legs, tinged a soft rosy gold from the sun.
