Page 82 of Down & Dirty

“Real funny, asshole. Don’t be a dick and make her uncomfortable.”

He put up his hands, his expression opening innocently. “Like I would do any such thing.”

“Don’t make me remind you about Shelby Winterson.”

As expected, the mention of that name stole the glint right out of Mack’s eye. He sat back in his chair and took a long pull from his mug.

“Fuck you.”

The poor girl had such a crush on Mack in high school she’d tried to ask him out for almost a year. For some reason she mistook his rough exterior to be some sort of sign he needed the warm and gentle approach. Well, she learned one morning before the first bell just how far was too far to push Malcom “Mack” Ellis.

She’d shown up with a handful of wild flowers from her garden, all tied up with a bow. She’d given them to Mack when she asked him out for the millionth time. But when Mack saw the football team watching the exchange, he decided enough was enough. He’d crushed the flowers with his bare hands right in front of her, and dropped the mangled petals over her head. She never asked him out again.

It was a shitty thing to do, and I knew Mack regretted it. But there wasn’t a man in this house that wasn’t capable of being a dick to women. And in that moment, I needed him to remember that. Because Skylar was too important for him to forget himself and put her in any sort of uncomfortable position.

I rarely fought with my brothers, because nothing ever mattered to me. But she did. And now he knew that.

“Her name is Skylar. She’s my girlfriend.”

“The one from the photos?” he asked, his voice cautious, unsure how I’d feel about mentioning them.

“Yeah,” I sighed, leaning my hip into the counter. “We got scooped on that one.”

“Looked like it.”

“Should be easier to avoid that kind of thing here. “

“I’d imagine.”

Mack of many words. I laughed under my breath, turning to grab another mug for Sky.

“How’s the business?” I asked this question every time I was home, and every time he gave the same response.

“Same shit, new day.”

Hearing the pat reply made me laugh harder today. It wasn’t just the rugs and furniture that refused to change around this place. But instead of bothering me, I found a comfort in it. It made it a lot easier to bring Skylar home, knowing exactly what we’d find when we got here.

My father’s exercise apparel notwithstanding.

“You here all weekend?”

I paused in the threshold, taking another sip of my coffee. “Yep. We fly back Sunday morning.

He nodded, and I thought he was done, when he stopped me short again. “I’m hitting the store later. You coming?”

The Ellis family tradition that had lasted the longest was the last-minute trip to the store. The chaos in the aisles of our local Hannaford less than twenty-four hours before Thanksgiving was the exact kind of madness—and hilarity—that we couldn’t resist. It helped that none of us were planners to begin with, and half the time we only decided the day before whether or not to actually celebrate the damn holiday at all.

“Like I would break tradition?” I was almost offended he had to ask.

“She coming?”

I swallowed another sip, my eyes on my brother as I took a minute to assess his tone. “I think I’ll give her a break from that shit show. Ellis men only. A guys’ trip.”

Mack rolled his eyes, but I caught the way his shoulders dropped away from his ears. “Fine.”

Back in my room, I found Sky on her tiptoes, trying to read the quote under one of the photos I’d tacked to the wall. The bottom of her shirt had ridden up, and the gap between it and her leggings revealed an enticing stretch of real estate. Soft, round curves, pale, freckle-less skin. I already knew there was no part of Sky’s body I wouldn’t like, but getting this tiny glimpse only confirmed that.

I watched her for a second, in my childhood room, surrounded by all my stuff. The was a vision my younger self would have had a hard time conjuring. Undeniably better than my teenage fantasies.

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