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“Annie. Alwaysunhappyto see you.”
“Same,” she drolls.
“Can the two of you just be nice—for a minute?” I stand between them, feeling like the referee they always turn me into.
“I’ll be nice. I’m not sure it’s in Levi’s DNA.”
“Charming,” Levi says. “Like always.”
“You—go back to work.” I nod at Levi, then turn to Annie. “You—you brought a shirt?”
“Ooo, yes. You’re going to love it.” She pulls a purple polo from a Macy’s bag.
A smirk snorts from my brother’s lips. “It’spurple.”
“Thanks,” I tell her.
“Thanks?” Levi says, his disgruntled eyes on me. “You hate purple.”
I glare. “I don’t,” I say. “It’s fine. It’s just a color. I don’t have hate feelings for any color.”
“Wait. Do you not like it?” Annie shakes her head, glancing down at the purple people eater in her hands. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
I lift one shoulder. “I don’t dislike it. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“No man wants a purple shirt.” Levi snatches the screw gun from my dresser, eyes on Annie.
“I’m guessing that isn’t true. You don’t speak for every male species in the world, Levi Bailey.” Annie sets one hand on her hip and gives him a glower right back.
“In this one case, I do. I speak for every single man that has ever lived, that ever will live. We don’t like wearing purple.” He takes one step toward her, and I’m ready to leap in if necessary. “We’ll wear green. We’ll wear yellow. Heck, we’ll even wear certain shades of pink. But none of us want to wear purple.”
Annie blows a puff of air from her nostrils. “You are such a bull.”
“A bull?” Levi says with a snicker.
“Yes, you are bullheaded and—and stupid. I have no idea what cute little Meredith sees in you.”
“Whoa,” I say, one hand held out as if to hold Annie back.
“Well, I know exactly why Buttman didn’t hang around long. You probably tried to put him in a purple shirt too.”
Annie’s eyes turn to slits, but instead of another jab at my brother, she turns to me. “Owen, do you like this shirt?”
“I said thanks. I’ll wear it.”
“That isn’t the question,” she says, her brown eyes blinking. “I asked if you like it.”
“Um.” My mouth goes dry as the desert.
Levi and Annie are tugging on me, one on each end, and I’m just a giant CareBear whose arms are about to be ripped off.
I clear my throat. “It probably wouldn’t be my favorite shirt in my closet.”
“That isn’t the question either. Geez.” She flaps her arms at her side. “It’s a simple question, Owen! Do you like the shirt?”
How did Levi mouth off and I’m the one getting in trouble?
“Owen?” Levi says, waiting for me to answer just as impatiently as Annie.
