Page 24 of Whistle

I made a rude sound. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, a kryptonite roll too.”

“What about the brat in the shower?”

Rush was quiet for a beat. Then, “He likes shrimp nigiri.”

“Do they have anything not raw on this menu?” I muttered, choosing not to make it a thing he still remembered. I didn’t give a shit, but he seemed to.

“Not all sushi is raw,” he pointed out just like the little shit he was.

To me sushi = raw. I gave him a hard look.

“Water,” he deadpanned.

“It’s scary to think that people like you are allowed to vote.”

He laughed. “Pretty sure they have noodles on the menu. You know, for the oldies who like soup.” He came over, flipped the paper, and pointed to a selection of ramen.

Fucking California. Where the hell was the steak?

“You know what?” Rush said, amusement running rampant in his tone. “I’m familiar with the place. I’ll order it.”

Plucking the menu out of my hand, he tapped the screen on his phone and dialed the place. “Brah, I need to place an order. Shaa, delivery.”

I stared at the back of his head and then texted my daughter.

Your boyfriend is as pleasant as a butt rash.

The second I hit send, I cringed. Not because I was talking about a butt rash to my daughter but because I’d forgotten about the time difference. It was already late here, and that meant it was even later at home. She was probably asleep.

Sorry, ladybug. Forgot about the time difference. Everything’s fine.

I worried I might have woken her up, but when she didn’t reply, I figured she was still sleeping.

Finished with the order, Rush turned to face me. Before he could open his mouth and let out more stupid, his phone rang. His brow creased when he glanced at the screen. “What’s she doing awake at this hour?”

I groaned. “I forgot and texted her. Why’s she calling you and not me?”

Rush smirked. “She just likes me better.”

“Probably worried I tossed your ass into the sea,” I amended.

He laughed. “I’ll just answer this,” he told me as he silenced the ringing of the phone. “Hey there, little siren.”

My stomach revolted, and I turned away, my attention snagging on the blond coming up the stairs. Our eyes connected, and his footsteps stalled, pausing with one hand on the railing. Barely a heartbeat later, his chin jutted out and his blue eyes glinted as he ascended the rest of the stairs.

“Where the hell is the rest of your shirt?” I demanded, taking in the flash of his lean waist.

What the hell was he doing waltzing around in a damn crop top? It was purple and cut off just below his pecs. If his pants weren’t pulled up as high as they were, it would be damn near indecent. As it was, the narrow strip of his middle that was on full display was doing things to me that I was gonna have to pray about later.

And no, I’m not a religious man, but everything about this kid made me feel like I had to repent. Of course, I tried not to stare, even though it seemed it would have been easier to pluck out my eyeballs and eat them.

Probably what sushi tasted like.

“It’s at the same place my give-a-fuck-about-your-opinion is.”

This little shit. My hands curled into fists at my sides, and my eyes narrowed.

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