Page 27 of My Ex's Brothers

I hold my arms out between them, because as soon as the words leave Tripp’s mouth, Richie moves.

“Come here, you little bitch, and say that to my face,” he growls.

“Not helping, Tripp.” I glare at him as he pushes against me. I shove Richard back. “And you…I expect more fromyou.”

Richie hisses beside me. “I got no problem showing you a thing or two either, Dane.”

We both know he’s just blowing steam. His temper is short, and he’s often too quick to snap, but most of the time it’s harmless. He gets his aggression out on the ice, like we all do.

Still, it bothers me because Tripp’s right. Lyla does need a father.

But Amelia also needs a man who she can depend on. Someone who can be the things both sheandLyla need.

I want to be that guy. I really do, but I also know I can’t smother Amelia in my wants and desires. What I want doesn’t matter. Whatsheneeds is what matters most.

“Tripp’s right,” I say, as Richard grunts a discontent sound. “But I know Amelia. She’s not going to just pack her things up and move in with us.”

“Why not?” Tripp asks curiously.

I sigh. “Because, Tripp, Amelia is the kind of woman who craves independence. When we met, she was working a fast-paced job in the tech sector.”

Richard’s voice is even. “I didn’t know she worked in tech.”

“She actually worked as a graphic designer, for Sasson, in the city,” I say. Tripp and Richard both stare at me.

“What? I thought that was common knowledge. It’s not like she just fell into our lap?—”

I let out a breath as they wait for me to finish, both looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and…jealousy? Why the fuck would the twenty-four-year-old heartthrob and the forty-five-year-old badass be jealous ofme?

I shake off the thought. “All I’m saying is, Amelia isn’t a damsel in distress. She’s doesn’t need to be rescued,” I say, trying to make them understand.

“So she’s going to be resistant. Great,” Richard says with a grunt.

“We just have to make her an offer she can’t refuse, then,” Tripp says, tossing his empty water bottle aside.

“Right,” I say, hoping such a thing won’t be as difficult as it sounds.

9

AMELIA

I’m too tired,and the coffee hasn’t kicked in, when I hear a knock on my door. Lyla screams, just like she’s been screaming for the last hour because I wouldn’t let her have my breakfast, which consisted of grapefruit slices and grapes alongside a bagel full of cream cheese. Sure, I shared my cream cheese in tiny bits on her tongue, but it wasn’t enough, and she refuses to let me forget it.

After bouncing her for fifteen minutes, trying to soothe her, I figured it was best to let her self-soothe in her jumper. But the soothing has yet to commence, even though she’s bouncing like a spring.

“Coming,” I say, wondering who the hell could be here at the tender hour of eight a.m. The mailman usually leaves everything on the stoop, and I haven’t gotten any packages or anything…

I wipe my tired eyes when I open the door, and instantly take a step back.

There on my porch, dressed in a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, in a dark pair of jeans, holding a carrier of coffees and…flowers…is Dane.

“Good morning,” he says with that soft smile that makes my insides melt.

In so many ways that smile is familiar, but in so many ways it’s different too. When Dex smiled, it never reached his eyes, but when Dane smiles…it’s like the whole world lights up.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, breathless. He stopped by last week, after watching Lyla. Said he was in the neighborhood, and I believed him. He dropped off a box of stuff for Lyla, which I tried to refuse, but of course he wasn’t having it.

He brought me coffee then too.

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