“It’s fine. Really.”
I study her face. Her makeup’s been washed off and her hair’s in a loose knot on top of her head. It’s the most beautiful she’s ever looked. And now I’m thinking we should have gone with her plan of staying in bed all day.
“I’m sure if I had siblings, they’d be a pain in the butt too.” Mac lifts up on her toes to kiss me. I take that to mean we’re still gonna be on speaking terms.
After she’s gone, I find Evan in the garage.
“Hey, what was all that about?” I ask tersely.
“Better ask yourself that question,” he retorts, brushing by me with his tool belt over his shoulder. “Since when are you playing butler to the princess? The plan was to get her to break up with Kincaid, not play house.”
“Yeah, and it worked.” I follow him across the yard and back toward the house, choosing to ignore the way the inflection of hatred in his voice pricks my nerves. “She dumped him last night.”
“Great,” he says, cracking open a beer from the cooler on the front porch—at seven in the morning. “Then it’s time to cut her loose. We get both of them in the same place, let him see you two together, then be done with the clones. End of.”
I snatch the beer from his hand and pour it out. “Would you quit it with this shit? I don’t want you wasted and shooting a nail gun at me.”
“Sure, Dad,” he says, flicking me off.
“Hey.” I point a stiff finger at his chest because he fucking knows what he just did. “You say that again, we’re gonna have problems.”
He smacks my hand away. “Yeah, whatever.”
Evan’s on one today, and I’m about sick of this crap. But I can’t worry about what’s got him all twisted up, because I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to handle this thing with Mackenzie. There’s no way my brother and our friends are going to let me off the hook. All four of them have been circling, waiting for the feeding frenzy. They want blood.
I stew about it all day, but no solutions come to me. By the time we all hit up Joe’s later while Steph’s there on her shift, I haven’t come up with anything better than stalling and hoping they don’t mention the plan.
We’re on good terms again, Joe and me. I’m still disappointed in how easily he caved in firing me, but I get why he did it. Hard to hold a grudge against a guy who has a mortgage and his kid’s college loans to worry about. It wasn’t fair to expect him to go to the mat for me when he’s got his own family to protect.
We grab a booth near the bar, with Evan sliding next to me, and Heidi and Alana across from us. Steph wanders over with drink menus none of us need or glance at. The chicks order shots. Evan and I stick with beer. We took today off to rebuild our front porch, which means we’re pulling a double shift for Levi tomorrow. We’ve got to wake up at dawn, and I’d rather not do that with a hangover. Evan, I’m sure, doesn’t give a shit.
Of course, he wastes no time updating the girls on the latest Mackenzie developments.
“I’m so turned on right now,” Alana says, with an evil grin that is honestly disturbing. Chick is scary sometimes. “Look at me.” She holds out her arm to us. “I’ve got goose bumps.”
With her phone out, Heidi is scrolling through Kincaid’s Instagram. “All we have to do is keep an eye out for where he’s going to be one night. Somewhere public. Then you bring his ex, and we humiliate the hell out of him. Shit, we could probably sell tickets.”
“Make it soon.” Steph groans. “If he doesn’t stop coming around here, I’m going to poison his drink with laxatives. I want him afraid to show his face in public.”
“Why not this weekend?” Evan suggests, elbowing me as I concentrate on my beer, trying to ignore the rest of them. “Tomorrow. You ask the princess out on a date. Steph, you get Maddy or somebody to invite him out, and we corner him then.”
I finally contribute to the conversation. “No.”
Evan frowns. “What?”
Hearing him taking shots at Mac again does me in. I’m sick of this whole stupid plot, and I’m sick to death of pretending I’m still on board. I jumped off this train the moment I realized how cool Mac was. How smart and sexy and intriguing. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever been with.
“It’s over,” I tell my friends, eyeing them over the rim of my bottle. “Forget about it.”