Page 64 of Defend Me

“Sorry?” I say. Finn is looking at me curiously.

“I said that prosecutor has been sending his minions out to talk to everyone in town.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“The family included.” He means Dad.

I raise an eyebrow. “And how did that go over?”

Finn grins, making the dimple in his left cheek pop. “Dad sent him packing. Said he’d sic his lawyers on him if he attempted to talk to us.”

“Hey.” Charlotte plops down on the other side of me, margarita in hand. “Noah says you organized this?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Nice.” She clinks her glass to mine and takes a long drink. “I can tell he really needed it.”

Of course she can tell. She can probably read all of Noah’s moods. I wonder if she knows about the dent between his eyebrows that comes out when he’s focused, or the smile that can warm you up like the sun.

I glance at Noah, who is happily floating on his back like a starfish. Water glistens over his pecs and stomach. Why must he always be wet when he’s shirtless? My eyes snag on the bulge inhis swimsuit before I turn away. I cannot be looking at bulges while sitting next to his girlfriend.

“It was nothing,” I say.

“Joni doesn’t know what to do with herself,” Charlotte says, looking at a petite blonde talking excitedly to Daisy. “Us plebes never get invited to the Everton mansion.”

“Exclusivity is currency,” Finn says, parroting one of Dad’s lines. It sounds so arrogant said out loud in this setting.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let just anyone onto the estate,” Finn continues pompously. “It cheapens the Everton name.”

Charlotte’s jaw twitches. “Well, excuse me for existing, Croquem-douche. I’ll try not to let my peasantness rub off on any Ming vases before I leave.”

“What did you just call me?” Finn demands as I accidentally snort my margarita.

Charlotte eyes flash with mischief. “Your royal Doucheness? Herr Douchenstein? The Lord of Douchingham?”

“I don’t have to listen to these juvenile insults,” Finn says, storming off indignantly.

“Sorry,” Charlotte says to me, grimacing. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“No, he deserved that,” I say.

“Your brother has a giant stick up his butt.”

“Agreed.” I take another sip of my drink. Charlotte seems like a lot of fun. I just wish she wasn’t dating Noah. “What’s croquem-douche about?” I ask.

“It’s actually from the night of the Everton anniversary party,” Charlotte says. “They were bringing in the desserts and there was this croquembouche, and of course Isla being all Cuckoo for Coco Puffs about dessert was eyeballing it like it was Caden naked on a stick.”

“Um, ew,” I say.

She laughs. “Anyway, being a dessert novice at the time, Iasked what it was but before she could tell me, Wonder Boy over there interjected that it was a croquembouche but he said it in the most condescending way possible. So I called him a croquem-douche.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “That was some quick thinking.”

Charlotte flips her hair. “Why thank you. Didn’t know you handed out compliments to the little people.”

“Only when the insult is truly unmatched will I descend from my throne and make an exception,” I say. Charlotte grins and we clink our glasses together. “Finn is a good guy, though, deep down. Our father’s parenting style has left scars on us all. Look at Caden. Literally fled the country to get away from Dad.”

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