Page 11 of Clean Out of Luck

“Why don’t you just make yourself at home,” I mutter as I glance down at my phone again. A little strange that mybrother would have been asking about him so recently…unless he knew he would be stopping by. “What are you doing here?”

I’d just wished the other day that I would see him more. Funny that it’s coming true so soon.

“I was out running errands and figured I’d stop by and see if you’ve changed all your lightbulbs or if you need help,” he says as he folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the island. His eyes land on the mop, and he glances around the apartment. “It’s already spotless in here. What were you cleaning?”

“My soul,” I mutter as I walk past him to pick up the mop.

I carry the mop into the bathroom, rinse it out in the tub, and stand it up to dry.

When I return to the kitchen, Wade is sitting on a bar stool, drinking one of my sodas and checking his phone.

“How much did my brother pay you to come check on me?” I ask as I stand across the island from him.

Wade glances up sharply from his phone. It looks tiny in his big hands, and he sets it on the counter—face down. He probably doesn’t want me to see Phoenix’s name on the screen. “What? No, you’ve got it all wrong. What’s wrong with a guy visiting his best friend’s little sister?”

“Besides the fact that I’ve been a pain in your butt for fifteen years?”

Wade grins. “So you admit to that, do you?”

“I admit nothing. I’m just quoting your own words back to you.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the counter. “Do you want to know what I think?”

Wade pushes his phone farther to the side, folds his hands, and leans forward. We’re eye to eye now, and I’m lost staring into his bright blue ones.

“I’m just dying to know what you think, Scarlett,” he drawls. He does that little half smile that he does when he’s trying to annoy me.

“I think Phoenix asked you—as his best friend—to check in on his little sister.” I narrow my eyes at him and wait for him to tell the truth. Wade opens his mouth—probably to deny it—but I hold up a finger. “Do me the courtesy of not treating me like I’m oblivious.”

His mouth closes slowly as he studies me. “All right. Fair enough. He did.”

“Aha! I knew it. He texted me to ask if I’d seen you.” I look at him shrewdly. “Which means he doesn’t quite trust you to do the job.”

“Are you questioning if I can keep an eye on you, Scooter?” He pulls out my childhood nickname without hesitation—a low blow there.

“Wade, I don’t need someone checking up on me anymore. I’m an adult. I have my own place. I take care of myself.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if something breaks? Then you would need someone to fix it.” Wade clasps his hands together, and I can’t help but think they are capable hands. Ones that look like they could fix anything that’s broken.

Snapping my eyes back to his face rather than his hands, I scramble to come up with a reply. “I’ll call Steve, the building manager. Or the building owner who lives here,” I reply with a smug smile. “You have better things to do besides checking on me. It takes valuable time out of your day, and it doesn’t pay well.”

Knowing my brother, he’s not paying him anything. It’s most likely a blackmail situation. We Fernsbys like to play hardball.

“Why don’t you want me around, Scooter? Do you have something to hide?” He rubs a hand against the little bit of scruff growing on his face.

“No! Of course not. Why would you think that?” My faceheats as I think of trying to hang out with a date and then Wade showing up to sit on the couch with us.

“You live in a dark basement, and you don’t want me here.” Wade leans back in the chair and folds his arms across his chest. His forearm muscles dance as he does it.

I scowl, not liking that I’m taking inventory of Wade’s muscles. “It isnota dark basement.” I point at the light fixtures. “See? I have bright lights.”

He looks around the room with a skeptical eye. “I just think you would be happier somewhere else. Somewhere that’s not a basement.”

“There is nothing wrong with a basement apartment,” I reply firmly, tapping my fingers on the counter. I might rescind my wish about seeing Wade more often. I like him better when he’s not being condescending.

“Yeah, nothing wrong with living in a basement. Only getting trapped if the building catches fire and collapses on you.”

“Good thing I know someone at the local fire department,” I tell him with a wink.

He swallows hard, and I imagine he’s trying not to lose his temper. I’m pretty much a professional at provoking it.

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