Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
And she’s only gotten hotter.
“Back to our wolf pack,” Banks says. “I—”
“We are not a wolf pack.”
“Then our brotherhood.”
I eye him, and I almost—almost—feel bad for the guy. Instead, I reach toward him. “Hey, come here.”
“Why?”
“I think you have a piece of glitter stuck in your hair.”
He ducks my half attempt at smacking the side of his head and glares at me.
“What?” I ask, snickering. “Too soon?”
“It will always be too soon.”
“You can dish shit out but not take it?”
He lifts a brow. “Jess. You rigged my house with six buckets of glitter.”
“You put your face on one thousand fucking stickers and stuck them on every surface in my house that doesn’t move.”
He smirks. “Nah, some things moved.”
I punch him in the arm, earning a yelp from the little asshole.
Banks has an overwhelming case of youngest child syndrome—even though he’s not the youngest child in our family. When our parents brought our only sister home, Banks dug in his heels and refused to give up his spot as the family's baby. As a result, he’s spoiled, craves attention, and is willing to take unnecessary risks with his life and liberty.
He also hates being alone.
This hasn’t bothered me because he’s always had Maddox. But now that Maddox is married, he’s on his own—whether he likes it or not.
“Can we focus here?” he asks, gripping his punched arm with his other hand.
“On what?”
“On our living arrangements.”
I take a long, cold swig of my drink. “Did you come here just to convince me to let you move in?”
“I don’t want to move in, move in.”
“Good. Because you’re not.”
He sighs. “I just need a place to hang out.”
“Sounds like a you problem to me.”
“You’re not even thinking about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about, Sparkles.” I pause to enjoy his irritation at my new pet name for him. Worth it. “I know you’re having a quarter-life crisis because Maddox stopped letting you suck his tit, but that has nothing to do with me.”
He starts to respond, but a sports news break sidetracks him.
I twist my bottle between my fingers and close my eyes.
As much as Banks is the youngest child in his glory, I’m the proverbial middle child. I value my independence over everything. The idea of having someone around all the time makes me feel claustrophobic. I like to keep the peace, but I won’t be stepped on or manipulated—and if anyone, namely my siblings, wants to go to battle, I’ll win.
Period.
And that’s what this is with my youngest brother—a battle of wills.
“Just hear me out,” Banks says, ignoring my groan. “You and me tearin’ it up. Bad boys for life. Hanging out in the garage, ordering pizza, turning some wrenches.”
“What you mean is we can hang out in my garage, I can order, and I can pay for pizza, and you can use my tools to fuck around with whatever project you have going on?”
He slowly blinks. “I mean, I can order it if you want.”
“Banks …” I watch as he rests his head on his hands. “You have your own house.”
“Why does everyone use that as an excuse? ‘Banks, you have your own house.’ Like I don’t know that, but it’s not the point.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m tired of hearing ‘Why are you in my house, Banks?’ I want to feel like I’m supposed to be there.”
“Well, you’re not. So there’s that.”
A knock raps on the door.
“Who is it?” I shout.
“Foxx.”
“Come in,” I yell.
“Hey.” Our eldest brother Foxx stands in the doorway. “What are you two doing?”
I give Foxx a look. He nods, understanding the situation at hand.
“We’re negotiating,” Banks says with a tired sigh.
“We are not negotiating, Sparkles,” I say.
Banks glares at me.
“A negotiation is a give-and-take,” I say. “That’s not what’s happening here, no matter how hard you try to force it.”
“Fine.” He looks at Foxx. “He’s right. I’m giving, and Jess is not taking.”
“I haven’t been present for the entirety of this conversation,” Foxx says, hiding a grin. “But I’m certain that’s not the case.”
“How would you possibly know that?” Banks asks.
Foxx is amused. “I just came from Mom’s. Do you know what she was doing?”
Banks shakes his head slowly. He senses the trap our brother is laying for him but knows it’s too late to avoid it now.
I sit back, crossing my arms over my chest, and enjoy the show.
“She was going to hose down the house this evening. She spent an hour looking for her power washer,” Foxx says.
“Why’d she do that? I took … it. Shit.” He takes in our smug grins and holds up a finger. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh, Banks, but it is,” Foxx says. “The only thing you give anyone is a fucking headache.”
I snort.
“Well, how about this,” Banks says. “I have a proposition, and Jess won’t even hear me out.”
“Banks, Foxx would rather talk about his emotions than listen to your proposition.”