Page 16 of Skin Deep

“Do you remember our trip to Europe after we got our undergrads?” Closing his eyes, he let the images wash over him, the lights and languages, textures and tastes.

“In a hazy sort of way.” Frank grinned, but the smile quickly slipped off his face. “The girl. The one in Amsterdam.”

“How the hell did you zero in on that so fast?” Fred furrowed his brow at his twin. “She wasn’t the only girl on that trip.”

“She’s the only one who sent you into a funk that lasted six months.” Frank looked at him, assessing. “Wanna tell me how the hell some strange girl from Amsterdam has managed to make you depressed again five years later?”

“I’m not depressed,” Fred said as his brother eyed him skeptically. “I’m not. It’s just...it’s complicated.”

“I’m waiting.” Frank reached reflexively for his flask, frowning when he shook it and found it empty. “Hold that thought. I’m going to go raid Dad’s stash. Be right back.”

Fred waited as his brother darted out of the room. He wasn’t depressed that Amy was probably never going to speak to him again. He wasn’t.

“Look what I found.” Frank burst back into the room, a bottle of amber liquid and two snifters in hand.

“Fifty-year Glenfiddich?” Fred shook his head. “That’s his closet stash. Dad will kill you if you drink that.”

“Please. He only drinks it because it fits his image.” Frank made a great showing of pulling out the cork stopper. “I’ll top it up with Maker’s Mark and he’ll never know the difference.”

Fred wasn’t so sure of that, but he said nothing as his brother poured generous splashes of the pricey whiskey into two snifters, then handed him one.

“Now talk.” Frank picked up his own snifter and settled back down in his chair. “Tell me what’s going on with this girl.”

“Remember that petition that was circulating among the vendors here?”

“The one to evict the tattoo shop girl?” Frank whistled through his teeth. “Yeah, I remember. Lots of oomph behind it. Too bad, really. She’s hot. Looks like she’d be a freak in bed.”

“Watch your mouth,” Fred snapped, slamming his snifter on the desk with a loud thump. Frank blinked, forehead furrowed as he worked it through.

“Holy shit. Amsterdam girl and tattoo shop girl are the same person.” Frank’s eyes went wide. “Please tell me she recognized you.”

“Her name is Amy.” Fred sipped his drink. “And yes, she recognized me, you know, when I went to deliver that eviction notice.”

“Shit.” Frank sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Awkward.”

“You’re telling me.” Fred sat back, traced a finger over the rim of his glass. “I was so shocked I didn’t give it to her.”

“Fred.” His twin sat up straight at that bit of news. “That’s not cool. The tenant has to be notified or we can’t legally rent that space to anyone else.”

“I’m a lawyer, Frank. I’m well aware,” Fred snapped, scrubbing a hand over his face. “There’s more.”

“Oh, I bet there is.” His twin raised his brows, settling in for the story. “And I bet it has to do with the two of you naked.”

“Sucker’s bet.” Fred smiled grimly. “And it was every bit as good as it was that night in Amsterdam.”

Fred and his brother had never had that telepathic connection so many sets of twins had reported, but they still knew each other better than anyone else on the face of the planet. Therefore he wasn’t surprised that Frank picked up on what he hadn’t said.

“You like her.” Frank watched his twin, assessing. “That’s a plot twist.”

“Indeed.” Fred grimaced. “Especially when she found the letter anyway.”

“Wait a minute. You slept with her before she got the letter?” Frank pinned Fred with a withering stare. “Dick move, bro. Even I know that.”

“I know that now,” Fred snapped in return. “I just...she blindsided me. I lose my mind when I’m with her. Which isn’t an excuse, I just... I messed up. And now she’s not talking to me and I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, that’s easy.” Frank swigged the remaining liquid in his glass, then stole his brother’s and polished that off, too.

“Is it?” Fred wasn’t surprised that he’d fucked up. But Frank had always been the Superman to Fred’s Clark Kent, so he felt a small bud of hope that his brother knew how to get him out of this. “Well? Tell me.”

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