Page 22 of Backfire
Someone else just joined the ‘Fuck Him’ list.
I lifted my chin and sauntered over to the coffeepot on the marble island. The three of them were enjoying their breakfast at a table next to a big bay window. The fact that Devlin was seated at the head made me snort. Did his brothers always fall in line like a bunch of puppies?
Magnus had his face buried in a newspaper while Wyatt was leaning back in a chair with one leg stretched out. Based on the mischievous gleam in his eye, I’d say he was the more likely of the two to disobey his brother’s orders. Perhaps that was something I could use to my benefit?
“I don’t know… Those jeans look pretty good on her.” Wyatt lifted a mug to his lips and widened his smile. “I guess it’s true what they say.”
“And what’s that?” Why did I ask that? He was only going to say some smartass remark.
“That you can find a half decent look in a thrift store.”
Yep, I was right. “Is there something wrong with a thrift store?”
Wyatt shrugged. “That depends on who owned them before you.”
“Why would that matter?”
“What if she had some horrible disease, like syphagonaherpaliase and didn’t wear underwear?” His brow rose. “Do you want to be known as the next Typhoid Mary?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Wyatt tipped his head. “Is it?”
I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a point. Who did wear these jeans before me? And who the hell was Typhoid Mary?
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He waved his hand and returned to his breakfast. “Girls have gone through worse to have an ass that looked that good.”
My face dropped. Did he not realize we were in a room full of sharp objects? I wasn’t much for violence, but in his case, I might make an acceptation.
“She’s wearing too much make-up,” Devlin grumbled.
Scratch that. If anyone was getting shanked, it was him. I’d even take the time to search the stainless steel appliances and pretty white cupboards to find something nice and extra painful.
“All girls wear that shit,” Wyatt argued.
Exactly.
Besides, I didn’t even have that much on. A little blush, a smidge of eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss. I knew girls who wore way more.
Devlin’s next comment made me roll my eyes. “I don’t like it.”
“Oh, noooo! Devlin doesn’t like my make-up.” My hand flew up to my forehead in a dramatic pose. “Whatever will I do?”
He shot me a dirty look, Wyatt chuckled, and Magnus tipped his brow my way. “Okay, maybe she’s not that bad.”
“Well, at least one of you likes me,” I muttered, then walked over to join them, choosing the farthest chair from Devlin.
“I never said I liked you,” Magnus corrected.
I rolled my eyes. “My bad.”
“I like you.” The twinkle in Wyatt’s eye had the need to put him in his place burning in the back of my mind.
Unfortunately for him, I knew when I was being baited. So, rather than engage, I chose to focus on what I wanted to eat. Food was a much more pleasant option, and everything looked more mouth-watering than boxed cereal, which I considered fine dining in most of the homes I stayed.
Wyatt wasn’t going to let me get off that easily. When I reached out for a bagel, he snatched the plate away. Then did it again when I went for a scoop of scrambled eggs.
Sighing, I rolled my glare his way.
