Page 82 of Puck You Very Much

He cracked his jaw. “No,” he simply replied.

“I see,” Jack said, but his face was surprisingly expressionless.

“So, what was that…you’re his PR consultant?” Anna’s voice grew louder as she followed him into the living room. “Are you here to take photos or…”

“Um, no.” Dax knew Lucy’s face was glowing red even before he turned to her. “I’m here as a…casual acquaintance.”

Jack snorted. “Sure.”

Anna looked at him in surprise. “What?”

“Jack,” Dax warned.

“What?” his brother repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yeah, and if you continue like that, my fist will land in your face,” he informed him gently.

Anna groaned. “Oh come on, guys.”

Jack tilted his head. “It’s strange that I taught you how to use your fists and now you threaten me the most with them.”

“Give credit where credit is due, Jack.”

“Okay, pull yourselves together,” Anna said with a sigh. “We’re going to eat together, not start a fight club.”

“You know they’re both just pretending like they’re the alpha dog,” Lucy murmured to her. “Actually, they’ve been getting along rather well for the past few weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s what Jack said; but for some reason, that information hasn’t registered with Dax yet.”

“You know I’m standing right next to you, right?” he announced grumpily.

“Yep,” his sister remarked, patting his shoulder. “And it’s rude to growl at the hostess.”

“It’s rude to growl at anyone,” Lucy added.

Anna smiled broadly. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t ask too much of Dax, otherwise you’ll never be happy.”

Lucy laughed loudly and Dax groaned inwardly. He’d assumed that the two would get along well. For once, though, he didn’t like the fact that his assumption was correct.

“Come on,” Jack muttered, standing up. “Let’s go to the kitchen and get the food before Anna gets it into her head to take a family photo.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” their sister said immediately, her face lighting up.

“Let’s go,” Dax agreed quickly and followed Jack into the adjoining mini-kitchen.

“She’s not letting you pay her rent either, is she?” Jack muttered.

“No.”

“Although you could offer her something much better…”

“She likes her shoebox. And her independence.”

Jack nodded and reached for the delivery bags. Indian, judging by the smell. “So, you and Lucy…”

“Shut up.”

Jack grinned. “All right.”

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