“Come find me at the gym later,” I glower. “I’ll show you.”
I snag my sister when she tries to walk by to sit with her coffee, swing her into a side hug, and growl by her ear. “Filth. Where’s your self-respect?”
She throws her head back in a loud laugh, only to whisper back, “Somewhere upstairs. Right where I left it.” Then she leans in close and sniffs me. “You smell like you’re holding onto someone else’s… who was she? Is she okay? Does she need a therapist?”
I roll my eyes and release Brooke so she can sit. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. And I don’t appreciate your doubt.”
“So the rumors I hear around town about your… friendliness toward women aren’t true?”
“Who the hell is gossiping about me?” I snap. “And I’ll have you know that I actually tried to save an idiot from bad choices last night. I get the bad rap because I’m me. But this teen,” I look to Iowa while he pours a coffee, “she was seventeen! Comes up, tries to slide on in to my business, and when I tell her she’s gotta take her patootie,” I add for Lyss’ sake, “home, she starts crying and making me out to be some kind of monster.”
“Not all heroes wear capes, Bry.” He sets the coffeepot back down and gives an indecent, man-that-just-got-laid, eyes-closed groan as he leans back against the counter. “Seventeen-year-olds are too young to be making those kinds of choices. You did good.”
“You’d know,” Brooke smirks and steals a marshmallow from my bowl. “Seventeen years old, and think they know everything.”
Miles purses his lips, then flashes a grin for Lyss. “Daddy thought he was invincible when he was seventeen.”
“Yeah, well, though I love the consequences of your teenage choices,” I point a spoon at Iowa, “not all people need to follow that trend. That chick last night was way too young to be out. And she was definitely too young to be hitting on me. She was just a child.”
I turn to Lyss, and work on my serious face. “You’re not allowed out until you’re thirty. I don’t care if Daddy says it’s okay. I don’t care if Miss Brooke says it’s okay. You still have to get past me. And I’m gonna lock you down till I decide you can go out.”
She remains completely unruffled and goes back to eating. “I like being with you guys. I don’t have to go out.”
Brooke laughs. “We’ll revisit this in ten years.” Then she looks to me. “So, you were the gentleman last night, and still copped flak because your gallantry wasn’t taken well?”
“I’m so misunderstood,” I pout. “It sucks.”
She inhales the scent of her coffee, and snickers when her lungs are full. “It must be so tough being you, Bry. So handsome, so free and wild. And these girls, good lord, they just throw themselves at you.” She turns to me with wide, innocent, mocking eyes. “I’m so sorry for your misfortune.”
“Easy for you to say,” I grumble. “You just shared a shower with someone of the opposite sex. I sure as hell didn’t.”
Brooke looks to Lyss and pops her bottom lip. “Poor, poor Uncle Bry.”
“I don’t come here to be treated this way.” I pick up my bowl and chug the last of my leftover milk. Then I lower the bowl back down and stand to take it to the sink. “I came here to get some Lyss love. Instead, I had to learn that my sister is living up to the Kincaid name in the shower.” I point at her, narrow my eyes. “You’re disgusting.”
“Filthy.” She nods and flattens her lips. “I know. Completely filthy. That’s why we showered.” She bursts out in giggles.
“I hate you.” I push her head forward, and grin when she squeals.
Any other man pushes Brooke around, and Iowa would end his life. But me… I get brotherly rights, I suppose.
Then I turn to Lyss and show her I love you with my hand.
Her eyes light up, then she lifts her hand and returns my love.
Before I leave, I step in and pull her straight out of her chair until her arms wrap around my neck, and her legs around my hips.
I never believed in love at first sight. I honestly thought it was absolute bullshit they make up in romantic literature. But then I met Alyssa Walker, some dude’s kid – not even my sister’s kid – and bam! The curse of the Kincaids got me.
In our family, when a man knows he’s in love, he knows. There’s no hemming, no hawing. There’s no confusion. No wondering. There’s a magnet in our blood, and when we know, we know. We head north, and we don’t stop for any reason.
I love my mother dearly. And as proven with my behavior around Jackson, my sister comes before anyone else. I love my cousins, my aunts. I love them all, but I was born into that family, and therefore, that love was a given.
Then Alyssa walked into my life, and I got my first taste of a Kincaid knowing what he knows.
My niece bumped my sister down. She bumped my mother. My grandmother. That cherubic baby bumped a whole bunch of people down my totem pole to make room for herself at the top.
And then last night, I met another woman. She crushed my balls, stole my hat, told me no, and rode with my fucking enemy.
And yet…
“What are you doing today?” Brooke asks. She lowers her mug and finally loses her teasing expression, her filthy smirk, her playfulness. Now she’s just the baby sister that is literally less than a year younger than me. Irish twins. The perfect sister.
I shrug. “Might head to the gym for a bit. I feel like a little sparring would do me good.”
“All that pent-up frustration,” Iowa chuckles. “You need to find you a shower buddy.”
I point my finger and glare. “You need to shower on your own. I let you get away with a lot of shit, Iowa. Because you gave me Lyss, I give you a lot of leeway. But if you don’t pull your head out soon, I’m gonna do it for you.”
He scoffs. That’s all he does, because he knows I’m full of shit. Hell, if he wanted to marry my sister today, I’d toss her at him. Because a guy knows when another guy is in love. He knows that guy will treat her right. He knows everything he needs to know, because his seven-year-old daughter is a walking, talking character reference. A prick couldn’t raise someone so beautiful and perfect the way he raised Lyss, largely on his own.
He could put on an act for a little while, but kids can’t.
“Whatever.” I snag my sister’s coffee and chug it. When I’m done, I let out a long hiss as the liquid burns my esophagus, then I come around and press a kiss to the top of Lyss’ head. “Have a good day, baby. Call me if you wanna hang out. My schedule is always open for you.”
“Can I come to the gym with you?” She looks to Iowa, to Brooke, then back to me. “Can I?”
I look to Iowa. “It’s cool with me. I’ll keep watch.”
Miles Walker has trouble sharing his daughter. She’s allergic to damn near everything, she’s had one too many close brushes with peanuts and death. And then there are the threatened legal proceedings from the girl’s biological mother – though that seems to be resolved now. But still, the trauma from all that tends to stick to a guy.