Page 134 of Square Deal

“Success!” she said as we discreetly slipped inside.

I took the tray of finger foods from her while she went around and turned on all the lights. Jake and Marissa weren’t far behind.

“Fuck, HJ—how the hell do you walk in these damn things?”Marissa groaned. She steadied herself on the kitchenette island and peeled off her high heels.

Hannah was barefoot and standing on the kitchen countertops. Her head was buried in a cabinet. “Order a size up and put foam pads in the toes and backs. I’ll text you a link to the ones I order.”

Marissa flipped her the bird. “And where, pray tell, did you learn that sorcery?”

Hannah giggled. “An article about Kate Middleton inPeople. You’re welcome.”

“You should’ve shared that helpful little nugget before now,” Marissa grumbled.

From inside his suit jacket, Jake produced a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of schnapps. I peeked at the labels.Not too shabby.

“The stash still up there, Han?” he called.

She spun around on her toes like a ballerina and hopped down. “Still here, thank God.”

Her hands were full of Twinkies.

I did the math. “How long have those been up there?”

“Since high school.” She giggled, tossing Little Debbie’s handiwork on the island.

I grimaced. “They’ve got to be expired, Princess.”

Hannah popped one open and took a bite. “Duh-lush-ush,” she grinned.

Marissa dove toward Hannah and grabbed a snack cake, ripping it open. “Carbs. Sugar. My precious.”

“Wedding diet?” Hannah asked.

Marissa groaned with a mouthful of questionable sponge cake and fake whipped cream. “The worst. Marlene keeps breathing down my throat about the dress fitting and not looking puffy and bloated in pictures.”

Hannah raised her eyebrow. “You don’t need to diet. You’ll be hangry, miserable, and you’ll drive your wedding planner to drink. Jake already loves you, and you’re beautiful.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled. “You’re the smart one. You moved to the other side of the damn state.” She dropped her voice to a whisper as if to avoid conjuring the wicked bitch of the south. “Your mother has nothing better to do than to pester me about flowers and linens or demanding to know when I’m going to go dress shopping. She texts me all fucking day about cake tastings and venue tours. One time I didn’t respond right away, and she told me I needed to quit my job to focus on planning the wedding.”

Jake found two glasses and blew the dust off. I cracked open the schnapps and poured the ladies a drink. Jake grabbed the bourbon and the pilfered tray of canapés, and tilted his head over to the other side of the pool house.

“So. You and my sister, huh?” he said as we sat down in front of the fireplace.

Thanks to the open floor plan, we could still hear Hannah Jane and Marissa talking about wedding details. It sounded like Hannah had talked Marissa off the edge of the eloping cliff and was drafting her a realistic wedding planning to-do list.

I nodded and sipped on my glass of bourbon. “Is this thedon’t break her heart, or I’ll kill youspeech?”

Jake chuckled. “Nah. Not my style. If Hannah gets hurt, she’ll take the first swing herself. I’ll just hand her the golf club to do it.” He shucked off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt to show off a faint scar on his forearm. “Just watch yourself. Those nails are dangerous.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Marissa did that?”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “Hell no. That was Hannah Jane when we were in high school. I caught her sneaking out to a party and threatened to tell our parents.” He shrugged. “Little brother. It was my duty to annoy her.”

I relished the burn of the liquor rushing down my throat. At least someone around here seemed to care about her. I may havebeen raised by nannies, boarding school staff, and drivers, but at least they were paid to care about me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Hannah smiling back at me as she and Marissa talked about wedding details. Her professional knowledge was like a Xanax placebo for Marissa.

My phone buzzed from inside my suit jacket. I pulled it out and glanced at the number. “Excuse me,” I said, standing and buttoning my blazer. “I need to take this. Thanks for the drink.”

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