Page 96 of South of The Skyway

“Yeah, I’m just…observing.”

“We can be a little overwhelming to take in.”

“It’s…different. That’s all. I’m not used to this kind of dynamic.”

“Good different?”

“Just…different,” she said simply. “I understand better why you’re so protective of your time and relationships with them. An alien concept to me, but they all love you.”

“I’m a lovable guy,” I teased, tightening my thighs against her hips where she was sprawled between them. Deciding she’d likely appreciate a change in subject, I asked, “Did you ever get Royal to come out from under the porch?”

She laughed. “The big dummy is happily sleeping with a litter of bunnies. I think they’re confused about who their mama is.”

Actually, that thought had some merit to it. “You think she took in some orphans?”

“I mean, she would.” She ran her palms over her face. “Leave it to my dog to adopt a bunch of rabbits.”

“I want to say that’s a first, but I can’t actually verify that.” The woman on screen yelped, the sound system loud enough that she startled against me. Alice was painting Elora’s toenails. Jameson, Juniper, and Milo were contentedly watching from inside the hot tub, clinking glass bottles of beer as they watched us conspiratorially from their place on the patio.

“Uh oh, we’ve been spotted.”

“Spotted?” She asked. So innocent. So adorable. So naive.

“The parents and brother are conspiring, and I think we’re the subject.”

“Conspiringhow?” she said, lowering to her best imitation of a top-secret agent voice.

“I think they like you.”

“Impossible. They don’t know me.”

“I mean…I remember being pretty fond of each other the first day we met, too.” Christ, had that only been two months ago? It felt infinitely longer and fractionally shorter simultaneously. Cicadas started chittering somewhere in the shrubs, the cry of a bat echoing above us.

“That’s not the same, and I don’t think they’re proposing a group event.” Brexley’s blush was practically palpable. She shimmied farther under the blanket, reverting her gaze back to the movie on the screen.

“Certainly not.” Based on the cheeky look on my brother’s face, I assumed they were conspiring more along the line of wedding bells, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to say that to Brexley. “But they’re up to something. Never trust a Rhodes. Have I told you about our prank wars growing up?”

“Don’t let him spin this shit,” Elora said, shooting a glare in my direction as Alice laughed. “Rhyett was the king of the prank wars.”

“Honestly, how we never destroyed the house, I’ll never know.”

“What kind of pranks?” Brexley hedged, her tone equal parts cautious and intrigued, baby blues narrowed as she craned to look up at me. The bench seats we’d built were the perfect freaking size. Just big enough for me to stretch my legs out and give her plenty of space to curl into the crook of my side. It did little in the way of skepticism, however.

“Name it, we did it,” Alice quipped. “Plastic wrap on the toilets—”

“Plastic wrap across doorways, like a spider’s web,” Elora added.

“Covering the stairwell in cups of water so nobody could get up or down without running handfuls of cups to the bathroom.”

“Swapping bedrooms while people were out for the day. That was Rhyett’s favorite.”

“Swapping bedrooms?” she chirped, her focus on me hardening.

“The whole damn thing,” Alice said, rolling her eyes as Elora blew on the fresh polish.

“I mean. We left the beds,” I interjected. “Just swapped comforters.”

“Just,” Elora scoffed, dipping the brush into the sticky, bright red liquid.

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