Better Hate than Never (The Wilmot Sisters, #2)(24)

Cornelius turns around and peers my way, looking vaguely concerned.

“Don’t worry. I’m just tipsy and getting pointlessly in my feelings.” I stand, a little ungainly, feeling the shot with Margo along with the cocktail I pounded when I got to the party creeping up on me. “I’m going to go to bed and sleep it off.”

After turning off the light in Bea’s room and traipsing back across the hall, I fall into bed, curl up, and thankfully, not long after, sleep wraps around me, though it’s anything but peaceful.

It’s filled with dreams. Terribly vivid dreams.

A warm, strong body, guiding mine from a dance floor, down the hall. A hand holding me steady, until it touches me where I ache and thoroughly unsteadies me.

A deep, decadent dip to a bed.

A new, feverish dance that lasts all night long.





? EIGHT ?


    Christopher


If the tango incident at Sula’s birthday party affirmed anything, it’s that maintaining my distance from Kate is the only way to survive this.

Especially if I want to keep my toes.

And yet here I am, strolling down the sidewalk from the nearest train stop to the Wilmot sisters’ apartment.

Walking right toward her.

To my credit, it’s been ten days. I’ve stayed away for a week and a half, busied myself with work, declined friend-group invitations. For ten days, I’ve surrendered the world that’s mine. I was so sure ten days would be more than enough time for Kate to grow restless and leave town, like she always does.

I was wrong. And like hell was I going to just stay away forever, let her take from me the people who are like family because she’s decided to stick around.

Even though it’s just game night, I feel like I’m about to head into battle. So, like any sensible person who’s possibly marching to their doom, I’ve brought a right-hand man.

“Christ, it’s cold,” Nick mutters. Icy wind hits us like a hard uppercut that I lean into, cold and sobering. Nick’s shoulders climb toward his ears. “How are you not freezing your nuts off?” he asks.

I slant him a wry grin. “Have you ever seen someone built like me complaining of being cold?”

Our reflections glance back at us from a building’s darkened windows—wiry, mid-height Nick, and my tall, bulky frame like my dad’s. Tonight, my reflection could be his double, with my face hidden in shadow, the only part of me that favors my mother obscured. It makes me do a double take.

“Stop checking yourself out,” Nick says.

I shove him away, making him laugh. “I wasn’t, you ass.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Where’s this bullshit coming from? You mad I gave you a bigger client portfolio at work? Bummed we’re slated for our best quarter yet?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not about work. Believe it or not, some of us think about things besides ROIs and investment strategies. It’s about you pulling your Casanova bullshit on my baby sister.”

“I did not!”

“Maybe not on purpose,” he grants, “but the end result was the same. Forgive me if I still haven’t recovered from the fact that, after you left early from our happy hour meet-up last week, Gia said she would, and I quote, ‘let you step on her neck.’?”

I cough, studiously avoiding his eyes. “For the record, all I said to her was, ‘Good to see you, too.’?”

He shakes his head wearily. “Just isn’t right. You can get any woman you want and you refuse to date. Then there are guys like me who’d settle down in a heartbeat, and nobody wants us. They want you and your Henry Cavill bubble butt.”

I stop dead on the sidewalk, making Nick trip into me. “What the hell did you just say?”

“That’s what Gia told me. Do you know how much I didn’t want to think about my baby sister thinking about your ass? How much I didn’t want to google Henry Cavill’s ass—spoiler alert, curiosity won out and I did google Henry Cavill’s ass—only to then have to look at your ass to form my own opinion on this comparison? I’m very upset to report, by the way, that my sister was right, you have Superman’s butt.”

I turn away and start walking. “I deeply regret bringing you with me.”

“Ah, c’mon, it’ll be fun. At least, it will be once you fess up about why you really want me to be there. You’ve been doing these game nights for years and never once have I had an invitation. What’s different tonight?”

I slant him a menacing glare.

He lifts his hands and widens his eyes. “Oooh, now I’m scared.”

“You should be. I don’t just have Superman’s ass, I have his biceps, and they’ll happily launch you toward the nearest train station.”

“You’d never.” He hooks an arm around my neck, tugging me close and ruffling my hair. “Beneath that grizzly-bear growling is just a big old teddy.”

“Get off,” I tell him.

“C’mon.” He claps his hands and rubs them together, trying to warm himself up. “Let’s hear it. Let’s hear why your old pal Nick Lucentio is being dragged to board-game night when he’s never been dragged there before.”

I sigh, planting a hand on his chest to stop him from marching into the intersection and getting flattened by a cab that runs the light. “I have to be around someone who . . . I’m not sure how to . . .” Sighing, I scrub my face. “I just need a little backup tonight, okay?”