“They’re just sitting here, so yes.”
He cups his chin, a move he did when he was irritated, as Gracie approaches. “Auntie Whit, can I please borrow your phone for a second?”
“Sure, baby,” I exaggerate sweetly before powering on my phone and handing it to her. She lifts it and scans my face with it, opening it up.
I glance over at Eli, who lifts a brow.
“Aunts get to spoil without consequence. It’s a perk. Don’t judge.”
“I’m not,” he replies quickly.
“You are so judging.
“You’re doing too much.”
“I’m sitting here.”
“You need to take it easy.”
“You’re the only one pestering me.”
“Keep talking,” his smile is dazzling, and it dizzies me a little as I try not to imagine being in my underthings on the toilet while his breath hit my skin. Or his eyes dropping to my lips, or the sincere terror in his face as he carried me inside the house, or his relief after, or the gentle stroke of his thumb.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He grins again, making my heart pump faster as Erin walks in from the kitchen. I hold my hand up. “Tell Mom I’m fine. And all of you, stop fussing over me.” I turn to Eli. “You especially.”
“You defied gravity today, sis,” Erin defends, eyeing Brenden, who’s snoring in the recliner before she heads back into the kitchen.
“Exactly,” Eli chimes in.
“I’m fine,” I insist.
“You don’t have to be so tough, you know. Everyone has a right to worry.”
“Well, there’s no need.”
“No one is made of Teflon, Whitney.”
“Says the guy who went into denial every time he got sick and refused to go to the doctor.”
“I had a hot nurse.”
“A nurse you slammed the door on.”
The light in his eyes dims.
“You know,” I snark, “for someone so intent on jogging my memory, yours seems selective.”
He shrugs. “Nothing wrong with trying to remember the good.”
I lean over. “That’s because all you got was good.”
“And you don’t think you were a handful? You must be joking.”
“I was good to you.”
“Not denying it, but you could’ve stood to be taken down a peg or two.”
“Did you just Super Troopers me?”
He grins. “I love that line.”
“Well, you misquoted it. And you know I can slaughter you in movie trivia.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Do you, now?” The wider his smile gets, the more I want to wipe it off.
“You’re starting a bickering fest to keep me in conversation.”
“It’s working,” he grins smugly.
“See, now there’s the ass I know.”
“And love?”
I snort. “Dream on pal.”
“Auntie Whit,” Gracie squeaks from the couch. “Who is Jonathan?”
“I don’t know, Gracie,” I dismiss her, narrowing my eyes on a smirking Eli. It’s clear he’s reveling in the fact that he can still push my buttons. “You’re just as arrogant as you used to be. You only know what you think you know,” I whisper vehemently, “and that’s not much.”
“Auntie Whit, what is uh-nal…analie?”
“Gracie, not now.” I lower my voice. “You may have Brenden fooled with this choir boy act, but I’m not buying it—”
“Auntie Whit, if you don’t know him, then why is he sending you pictures of his butt?”
“What?!”
Eli and I both jerk our attention to Gracie, and Eli’s expression turns to granite when he looks up at the TV screen, and my eyes follow. To my utter horror, Gracie is mirroring my incoming texts as they pop up in multiples on the monstrous screen. The entirety of the living rooms focus is now on Jonathan’s body, his muscular bare ass the focal point.
“GRACIE!” I scream, lunging to retrieve my phone as nothing but
splashes across it.
“What does that mean?” She manages through a giggle. “The grapes and water?”
My brother rouses from a dead sleep in the recliner, spouting, “those aren’t grapes,” before bursting into hyena-like laughter as I furiously swipe my phone. A barrage of texts continues to ping in as the gaze on my profile chills to subzero.