Page 1 of Jack's Devotion

Chapter One

Jack

"My pool house is haunted."

The exasperated sigh echoing down the line tells me quite plainly that my brother thinks I've officially lost my mind. Actually, I'm not sure he thought I had one to begin with, but that's beside the goddamn point.

"I'm serious, motherfucker." I peer through the blinds like a little old lady spying on her neighbors, trying to see into the pool house on the other side of the Olympic-sized pool taking up a corner of my estate.

Can you even see a ghost from this far away?

Jesus Christ.

Of all the questions I thought I'd ask myself today…that one didn't even make the list.

"It keeps messing with the lights in there."

Drake is silent for a long moment. "Something is wrong with the electricity, and you automatically jump to ghost?"

"No, jackass. I assumed it was an electrical issue until I heard the damn thing moaning, and then I jumped to ghost."

"How are we even related?"

I release the blinds for a moment, smirking. "Easy. I was living my best life as an only child, but mom and dad decided to fu–"

"I swear to Christ, if you finish that sentence, you're going to have two ghosts haunting your pool house," Drake growls.

A loud bark of laughter erupts from my lips as I lean back against the wall beside the window in my home office. I can't see shit out there. Maybe I need glasses.

"You asked," I remind him. "You and Madeline should probably see a sex therapist if you still haven't figured out how babies are made, little bro. You've been married for three months already."

"Fuck off, Jack," Drake growls. "My sex life is just fine."

"That's…not exactly a ringing endorsement."

As if I'd know what constitutes a ringing endorsement of a sex life. My hand has no complaints. My cock, however? Well, that's a different story.

But unlike Drake, I am not trying to get married. And in this town, a date might as well be a statement of intent. People fall at the speed of light around here. Hell, even Drake and Madeline were married in two point four seconds flat, and he doesn't even live in Silver Spoon Falls.

As much as the whole damn town would love to see me married off and out of their hair, a wife and kids are not on my agenda—ever. Maybe once upon a time…but that was a long time ago. Now? Well, I'm not the type of motherfucker a womanshould be saddled with. I can barely keep up with my own damn self.

So my hand stays busy and my cock suffers. It is what it is.

"Why do I even bother calling you?" Drake mutters. "I could be spending time with my wife instead of getting high blood pressure."

"How is my ghost problem giving you high blood pressure? You live in a fucking town that thrives on all things spooky. And last I checked, you had your own damn shrine to Halloween kink going on over there."

"It's not your ghost problem giving me the problem," he grumbles. "It's you, motherfucker. It'salwaysyou."

"Well, goddamn. Why don't you tell me how you really feel?" I ask, amused. Drake has one mood: cranky. Actually, scratch that. He has two moods since he met Madeline: cranky and sappy. I prefer cranky.

Madeline is great, don't get me wrong. Best sister-in-law ever. She's funny as fuck, and she's teaching Drake to live again. It's been years since he actually did that. But I can only take so much of the big bastard waxing poetic about her smile. It's strange and unnatural. I don't like it. Him, not her smile. There's nothing wrong with that.

"Fine," he rumbles as if I was challenging him or something. For the record…I definitely fucking wasn't. My brother is a merciless savage. "There isn't a ghost in your pool house, you idiot. You have a squatter. It's what happens when you spend ninety percent of your life at your office. People decide your shit is their shit. Call an exorcist or the sheriff or some goddamn body to kick whoever it is out. But for the love of all that's holy, Jack, do not try to handle it yourself."

"I do not spend ninety percent of my life at the office," I mutter, ignoring the rest of the bullshit he said because we both know I'm not going to listen anyway. The sheriff, Dillon, doesn'thave time to come out here to run someone off the property. I'm brains and brawn. I can handle it myself.

"Oh, really? When was the last time you were home?"

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