Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ruby
Every time I looked at the stool on the edge of the bar, my face burned. I scurried past to deliver two blackberry bourbons to Jason and his daughter.
“Thanks, Ruby,” he said. “How’s Tenor?”
Questions about Tenor caught me off guard. People still thought we were steadily dating, while in reality, things were new. Whatever those things were.
Were they new—or just slow? Plodding? Tentative? I’d like to think new, but Tenor set the pace and he made bourbon, a spirit that had to age for years to be called a bourbon. I functioned at the speed of a viral post, and he worked with aging barrels.
I smiled and went for a general answer. “I’m trying to keep him out of trouble.”
Jason barked out a laugh. “It’s a tough job with that kid.”
I took their empties and went back behind the counter. My phone buzzed. I squinted at the screen. At least five tennis emojis were next to Dad’s message.
Dad: Ready to take me on?
I scanned the tables. Everyone had refreshed or half-full drinks.
Me: When?
Dad: When can your new man join? What’s his name again?
Me: Taking it slow. Don’t know that we’re at meet-the-parents level yet.
Dad: Have you met his?
I chewed on my lower lip. If I said yes, he’d get pushy. If I said no, well, I hated lying.
Me: I’ll talk to him. Mom’s not back yet anyway.
Dad: Did you hear she ditched Dave?
Me: Daniel?
I had actually thought Mom would try to make it work with Daniel. The only guy who was a constant in her life was Dad. How hard was that for her?
Dad: Whatever his name is, he’s gone. Tell your guy we’ll take it easy on him.
Me: No you won’t.
He replied with a bunch of laughing emojis.
Smiling, I looked up when the entrance door whooshed open. I caught myself before I could grimace.
“Oh, Crock— Uh, Cara. Brock. Hi.” I snatched the rag from the sink and swiped at the already pristine counter. “How was the honeymoon?”
“Ugh.” Cara rolled her eyes and took a seat on a stool. “Hot. Who goes to Jamaica in the summer?”
“But we barely left the room,” Brock added, his voice low and suggestive.
I choked when he sat on the stool Tenor had taken me on. Turning my head, I coughed into my shoulder. “Sorry. Excuse me.” My cheeks were hot, and I couldn’t look at him. “What can I get the newlyweds?”
“Ooh, a mojito. That was yummy.” She hugged Brock’s arm.
Brock didn’t return his wife’s affection. “I’ll have what that guy was having when I walked in.”
Blackberry bourbon. He wasn’t going to try neat in front of me again.
Cara leaned over the counter, her gaze tracking me as I mixed the drinks. “Why didn’t we cross paths after high school? We both stayed in Bozeman.”
Hadn’t we been over this the last time we were here? “Our lives went in different directions.” Mine had blissfully been away from hers until now.
“Is your mom still in that tiny apartment?”
The one she had paid for by herself while she raised a kid almost entirely alone? “No. She has a condo, but she’s selling and getting an RV since her job is mobile and she’s all about the outdoor life.” That had been the news during her last call. The hike had been wonderful. She wanted to do it forever.
Brock snorted.
Cara’s face screwed up. “Ew. Living in an RV is so?—”
“Exciting,” I finished brightly. “For a woman who worked three jobs while going to school and raising me, it’s an adventure.”
Mom might be flaunting her empty nest in front of her little birdie, but I’d defend her choice until the end of time, especially to Crock.
Cara stiffened. “Right. Of course.” Her smile turned sweet. “Does she need an agent? I still work out of Bozeman.”
Oh. Shit. “Um, she has a guy.”
“Who? I probably know him.”
“I’ll have to ask. I can’t remember his name.” Not a total lie. Mom probably had someone in mind. It wouldn’t be Cara.
“You and Tenor going to build a house?” Brock asked. He used his straw to stir his drink. If he got half of it down, I’d be surprised. He reached into his back pocket and slapped a business card onto the countertop. “I have some availability.”
I didn’t pick it up. “Tenor has a house in the mountains.”
Brock left his card and shrugged. “Some couples have an issue consolidating places. He might have a history in his house that’s just a reminder for you.”
He had no history in his house. Except for me. Well, I was the present. One day, I might be the past. A sharp pain stabbed between my ribs. “Excuse me.”
I rushed to the stockroom. Waving my hand at my hot face, I paced where they couldn’t see me.
What was my problem? I’d made a commitment not to rush him.
But I was getting impatient. I wanted to be important to him. I wanted to be wanted by him. Physically, I was, but the more we were together intimately, the more I longed to expand on the undeniable emotional connection we had. I wanted more moments like that first time in front of Curly’s when he’d told me why being seen on a date bothered him. He’d confided in me and that had made me feel special. So terribly important to him. Yet not critical enough that Tenor declared he couldn’t live without me.
Or... I could just be scared of indecisive guys who came and went from my life without committing until they told me I was too predictable. Brock was getting in my head again. The ass. I couldn’t let anything he said get to me.
I sucked in a deep breath and scanned the shelves. What could be my excuse for darting away?
Glasses. I selected two and breezed back out. Cara had her head tipped toward Brock. She was drinking out of Brock’s straw.
She slid his glass in front of her. “You should come out with me tomorrow night.”
I blinked at her. “And do what?”
She giggled. “Girl things. We can come here. That is, unless you’re working.”
The idea of hanging with Cara in my safe space grated on me more than serving her. “I have plans. With Tenor.”
She pouted and whipped the little purple straw around her drink. “You shouldn’t make a guy your whole identity.”
Whoa. A slow burn of indignation started in my gut. “I’ve been told it’s my work I make my identity,” I said coolly.
“I’ll say.” She snickered. “Since the boss is your boyfriend.”
“We can do it another time.” I should’ve shut her down, but this was the second—third?—time she’d asked. Was she lonely? I knew about that. But also, what about her new husband? Didn’t she want to get lost in him?
Brock’s eye twitched. Was he wondering the same thing? Maybe he didn’t want his wife going out with me. Or was Cara his identity? Without her around, who would make him feel all powerful and manly?
Maybe I would meet Cara for a drink. We could go to Flatlanders Prohibited. That way, I could have a night out to show them I wasn’t waiting around on Tenor, and she’d never want to go out with me again after a night of Allen staring at her boobs.
“I’ll call you.” She pushed her empty glass toward the edge and tapped the counter with her finger.
Brock’s brow furrowed and he put a hand on her lower back. “Hey, hon. Let’s get home. I have plans for you,” he growled.
I held in a shudder, but Cara giggled. She slipped off her stool and draped herself over Brock. “By-ee, Rubes.”
She was on her way out the door when she turned and snapped her fingers. “What’s your number?” she called from the exit.
I was tempted to tell her to ask her husband, but I wouldn’t go that low. None of us wanted the reminder of me trailing after Brock like a lost puppy. Waiting for him at my apartment when he was two hours late—because he took a nap. In the coffee shop when he’d stood me up because he got so busy with work and “forgot” to call me.
The second time, he’d said he needed space to reevaluate what he wanted in life.
I’d been a doormat.
Was I still being a doormat? Tenor treated me remarkably better, yet I was waiting for him.
Crock was watching me and so were the customers.
Oh. “Just stop in some Friday night,” I said. “I’ll see if I’m free after.”
Perhaps Tenor would let me bunk with him if I was out late with Cara.
I did not want to go out with her.
As if I had summoned him, he entered from the lobby door. His brow crinkled when he saw Crock in the parking lot walking back to their car. He pinned me with his gaze, and concern fired in his eyes.
He nodded to Jason but swept past him, clearly on a mission. Jason opened his mouth and shut it.
“Everything okay?” Tenor asked.
The tension in my shoulders unknotted. “Cara asked me out.”
He arched a brow. “Are you going?”
“I dunno. Maybe?”
“Why?”
“I... don’t know. We used to be friends.”
His gaze darkened and his jaw was rock hard. “You used to date Brock. Would you go out with him again?”
“No,” I huffed.
“The guy I hated in school—he was abrasive at best. Mean at his worst. He was awful to me, and he’d corner me when no one was watching or when my brothers weren’t around. He never got physical, surprisingly, but his verbal assault always hit its target.”
“That’s awful.”
He shrugged it off like he didn’t want to dwell on it, and I couldn’t blame him. “It sucked, but I could count on him to be one thing—an asshole. Everyone could. He had a reputation. I think the worst thing that came from my interactions with him was that I thought every bully would be blatant. Then I started dating and all of Katrina’s red flags were invisible. Her comments were insidious. Little digs here and there to highlight I wasn’t like my brothers, but I didn’t notice them at first. Then, after the blowup, I thought back, and yep, it was all there. It’s okay to give someone a second chance, but you’re already questioning if she’s genuine. Cara already showed you who she is. Don’t waste your time on her.”
How did I know anymore whether I was wasting my time or not?
Cara might’ve been nicer than normal tonight, but there was a strong chance she’d devolve back into her normal style. She’d make friends in Bourbon Canyon. They’d be other entrepreneurs like her. Business professionals. Not someone who tried to look and sound trendy online all day while getting lost in smut all night. I would no longer suit her. I would become boring. And I’d be left wondering if she was really trying to use me to feel superior or if she was oblivious to how she sounded.
I knew the real answer. It was always the same. With Brock. With my other exes. Even with my parents. Just once, I wanted the answer to be different. For someone to choose me because I was me. And Tenor was. Kind of. I could wait a little longer for him, but not for Cara. “Okay. You’re right.”
He leaned close, his mouth to my ear. “I know.”
Flutters erupted in my belly. Damn Brock and those worries he’d planted. Tenor made me feel good about myself. He was a guy I could bring home. Not even Dad could find anything wrong with him. Except that he was part owner of the company I worked for. Dad probably also wouldn’t be thrilled about the age difference.
Was there a chance Tenor would ever meet my parents? We weren’t serious, but would he play one innocent tennis match just to appease my father? With Dad, the game wouldn’t be so innocent. I never thought a game of tennis would be cutthroat, but Dad turned everything that way.
I could at least get Tenor on the courts. Ease into the topic. Just in case the day came. And maybe because I wanted to see my cowboy turn into a studlete. “Think you can get away tomorrow or Sunday to hit some balls around?”
“I don’t golf.”
I smiled. “That’d be interesting with rackets.”
His right eye twitched. “I hope you’re not talking about pickleball.”
A laugh burst out of me. “You sound like my dad. What is the thing between tennis players and pickleball players? They’re often the same people.”
He drew himself to his full height. “Except when they’re not and tennis players can’t get any court time because of fucking pickleball.”
My laughter grew and his expression got more disgruntled. He’d have that in common with Dad. “Any time those pickleball players aren’t dominating the courts, then.”
He ground his teeth together and glanced away, but his lips twitched. “There is always an open court.” He caught my gaze and a devious grin spread across his face. “On the Bailey Memorial Courts.” He winked. “To further encourage the growth of Bourbon Canyon High School’s tennis team. No pickleball allowed.”
“Of course. You’re devious.”
“I believe the term you’re looking for is philanthropic.” The corner of his eyes crinkled. “And I’m free whenever you want, Goldilocks.”
Tenor
Turned out, Ruby wanted to hit the court as soon as she returned to Bourbon Canyon. This weekend, we’d scrimmaged for an hour. Yesterday, it had rained. Today, it couldn’t have been more perfect for a match. Sunny with a light breeze, it wasn’t too hot.
“You’re really good at this.” Ruby packed up her racket.
“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.”
“I have some skills. My dad taught me, so I was learning when he was. He really wanted me to play in school.” She shrugged.
There was something else she wasn’t saying. “You didn’t want to?”
“I didn’t care, but Dad can be... It would’ve been like a football dad yelling from the bleachers.”
“That doesn’t pair well with tennis.”
She flashed a quick smile. “Neither does Dad but that doesn’t stop him from bringing his football energy to the courts.”
I didn’t elaborate on my experience. I had played from seventh grade until graduation. Tennis had kept me sane. It was a sport that tended to attract more mathletes than alpha-male athletes. I could expend my frustration on the court after a shit day. Nobody cared that I liked spreadsheets and Warhammer, and I won some matches.
My games hadn’t been as anticipated as Tate’s and Teller’s football games, but I hadn’t cared. With a gaggle of younger siblings and foster kids, my parents hadn’t wanted to risk the noise level and distract any players. The fewer the spectators, the better as far as I had been concerned. Tennis had been it for me. I’d been teased moderately less for it than I had with Warhammer.
I tucked my racket into my bag with my spare. I always carried two. Old habits died hard.
She walked to her car. Her flirty little white skirt swung around her thighs. “That was a nice treat. I got to see you in shorts, and it was a mellow game.”
It hadn’t felt mellow when I’d wanted to toss the racket and haul her to my pickup. Playing while turned on was an inconvenient experience.
Missing her all damn week was another one. I’d nearly stayed home on Wednesday just to see her. There was no reason I couldn’t miss a week, other than the sense I was being a traitor to myself. To the promises I’d made myself all those years ago when the person who was supposed to have my back stabbed it instead.
I was falling for Ruby.
Pressure squeezed my lungs together. The same sensation I’d gotten when I’d been cornered by that jackass in middle school and the first two years of high school. He’d seen the real me. He’d seen how different I was from my brothers. And he’d prodded every single insecurity until it was raw and exposed.
I pushed my glasses up. This wasn’t high school. I was a goddamn adult, and Ruby was a good person. She wasn’t superficial or fake. She wasn’t Katrina. She was special, and I couldn’t quit seeing her if I tried.
“See you Friday night?” I pulled her close, pressing her into her car door.
“Friday night.”
I claimed her mouth. Her lips were hot from the sun, her minty flavor branding itself onto my taste buds. I could’ve kept her pushed against the door for another two hours, playing a game of a different sort.
Slowly, I pulled back and released her.
“Drive safe.”
She nibbled her lower lip and shifted her weight. “Hey, um...”
The band around my chest returned. This was it. She was done with me. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but I knew . I just wasn’t enough for her.
“Would you ever consider a doubles game?”
Surprise eased the tightness around my shoulders. “Doubles?”
She nodded and squinted against the sun, uncertainty scrawled over her features. “Dad asked, and well, my mom would be his partner. She takes the edge off him. So... what do you think?”
My mind whirred, stalled, then circled again. “You want me to meet your parents?” The squeeze returned. I could barely draw a breath.
She flailed her hands around. “You don’t have to, I swear. Meeting them would make this more serious than it is. I’ll figure out something to tell them.”
If you think I’m going to let my daughter get engaged to some man-child still suckling from his mama’s teat, you’re dumber than you look. I swallowed hard. “No, it’s...”
I frowned, hating her declaration of how casual we were. But wasn’t that the way I wanted it? Her blush was furious, and it wasn’t from passion or the game. She was embarrassed.
The acid in my stomach crawled farther up my throat. Would she leave thinking she’d overstepped? “I met Katrina’s parents.”
She drew back but didn’t say anything. I appreciated the small downturn of her lips. A hint of distaste at my ex’s name. I knew how she felt, because I felt the same every time I saw fucking Brock.
“It didn’t go well,” I continued. “They grilled me about what I did, what my future aspirations were, and what I did in my free time.”
“And that’s when it all blew up?”
I sucked my teeth against my lips. “It started with some bullshit from her dad and just snowballed into a large explosion and a few public tantrums from Katrina.”
“She sounds delightful.”
“Her dad was too. He had political aspirations. My last name made him excited. But he was expecting a Tate and he got me.”
“No offense to your brother, but that’s just stupid. He should’ve been delighted that his daughter had such good taste in men.”
I smiled unexpectedly. “You would’ve been the only one with that opinion.”
“I wouldn’t have been. You just picked the wrong women.”
They’d all bemoaned picking the wrong guy. The wrong Bailey brother. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Her pink lips turned down. “It’s more than that. And don’t worry. Dad can be pushy, but he usually only asks because it’s the first test a guy can fail with him. I can make it clear we’re not playing that game.” She grinned. “Pun intended.”
I shoved a hand through my hair. “No.” A tennis game with her father should be no big deal. I was an adult, and it wasn’t like her dad was Katrina’s father. “It was just a surprise.” I wasn’t expecting to relive the experience like it’d happened last week.
That cultured fuck’s voice rang through my head. You’re a guy who lacks ambition of his own. You can’t make my daughter happy. You can’t even make your own money without your mommy and daddy’s help.
I blinked. The last part had morphed into Bobby’s voice. I prodded at my temples. Dammit. I wasn’t a goddamn kid anymore, standing quiet while someone trashed me. Nor was I some guy who’d gotten dumped. Years had passed. “I’ll do it.”
“Seriously, Tenor. It’s okay. I’ll talk to Dad?—”
“No. Next weekend.” I tipped her chin up so she could see how fucking serious I was.
“Mom’s not back from her trip until the end of the month.”
The cool beat of relief inside my chest couldn’t be denied. I’d suck it up and meet her parents, but I’d take the extra time before then. “Whenever your mom’s ready.”
She put her warm hands on either side of my face. “Thank you. I promise to keep Dad reined in.”
That was ominous. I gave her a quick kiss. “Drive safe.”
Her saucy smile as she got behind the wheel would’ve been my undoing if she hadn’t been driving away.
I waved, then tossed my tennis bag into my pickup. I checked my phone.
Teller: You in town?
I punched in my response. Yeah. Ruby just left.
Teller: Meet me at Mountain Perks.
I arrived at the coffee shop before he did. It closed in an hour. I lingered in my pickup until he parked behind me. Downtown was quiet for a Sunday. Only a few people drifted along the sidewalks outside of the shops. Only Mountain Perks and Lilly’s Pad, the flower shop, were open. A small eatery at the end of the block had already closed for the day.
I got out and Teller lifted a brow. His gaze dipped down to my athletic shoes and touched on my basketball shorts. “Been a while since I’ve seen you outside of jeans.”
“I wore a suit last weekend.”
He whistled. “Never did tell me how that wedding was. The bride just put up a billboard outside of town if you’re looking to buy.”
“Not from her.”
He flashed a grin. “She ain’t making friends here, that’s for sure. And her new husband is pissing off as many contractors as possible building that monstrosity of theirs.”
“Good.”
He laughed and we went into the coffee shop. The rich scent of roasted coffee beans surrounded us. I ordered a coffee with cream. Teller ordered something with caramel.
“Your drinks are getting fancier,” I said after we got our order.
“Makes up for my life getting simpler.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
He scowled. “Not for you, old man. You found someone. I have nothing when I get home except for the cold foam residue around my glass.”
“I hope you’re happy for a long time with it.”
“Not as happy as you and Ruby.” He grunted. “I’m glad you took a chance on her. You’re different.”
The cream in my coffee curdled in my stomach. I wasn’t different. I was the same. That was the issue. I hadn’t changed for anyone, and that had always been the issue. “Did you invite me here to ask about Ruby?”
“In a way.” He rolled his shoulders. “Wynter caught me, asked if I’d be willing to have pictures of me taken when I’m doing a tasting. I was against it, but after booking three weddings and now a reunion too next summer, I figured I’d see if my face could sell some bourbon. Ruby might be onto something.”
As long as Wynter didn’t ask me. “Not that I mind, but why couldn’t this wait until we’re both in the office tomorrow?” I didn’t mind talking about Copper Summit business anytime or anywhere, but I’d never want to test whether my mug could sell a thing.
“We haven’t talked much lately.”
“You miss me,” I teased.
His scowl was supposed to be playful, but I caught the flash of loneliness. “You buzz away as soon as you’re not needed every weekend.”
For Ruby, I did. Cruz and Lane had also returned to Colorado to help with Foster House. Was Teller feeling like the lone bachelor among a ton of happy couples? The whole family was pairing off, Cruz and Lane were slowly decreasing their time with Bailey Beef, and that left Teller on his own.
Did that mean I wasn’t a bachelor anymore? Was I off the market? It wasn’t like I had wanted to be on the market after my last foray. My emotions had taken a few hits in the last couple of hours. My feelings for Ruby were getting inconveniently deeper, and then I would be meeting her parents soon. Something that had never been pleasant. Also something that wasn’t insignificant.
I hadn’t wanted to name what Ruby and I were. That’d make it real. A word could be undone. A relationship could be ended. A girlfriend could become an ex. Love could turn to heartbreak. I’d been at this hopeful point before, wondering what amazing things lay ahead, only to be kicked to the curb and left behind.
All this was supposed to have been just a date to a wedding, and somehow, feelings had grown, blossomed, dug roots around my heart. Those tendrils would become permanent soon, but I had no control over whether they stayed or got ripped out. That power was in Ruby’s delicate hands. And I’d had no one to talk to about any of it.
I massaged the bridge of my nose. “The whole thing with Ruby. It’s not how you think.”
Was I really going to do this? Now that the wedding was over, I felt less like I’d be shoving all the blame onto Ruby. I’d dug the hole I was standing in.
So I did it. I told him about how Ruby and I had really ended up dating. His eyes widened as the story progressed. Though I kept it G-rated.
“Damn.” He shook his head, disbelief crossing his face. His astonishment spoke volumes even if he’d only listened. “You really think you were faking?”
“That’s all it was.” Her moans when she got herself off in my bed rose in my head. Maybe faking hadn’t been all. “That was all it was supposed to be.”
He pondered me for a moment. “Being alone was safe. Telling yourself it was fake was safe. So, now what?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not in safe territory anymore. You care about her.”
“Of course I care about her.” And didn’t that feel like the most dangerous thing I could do?
“You’re not letting her in.”
“I have.” I’d opened so many doors to her that I’d thought would always remain closed to a woman. “She’s seen me paint my figures.”
“No, I mean—” He shook his head. “You’re not ready to hear it.”
Anger blazed a trail across the back of my neck. I’d opened up to him and he was chiding me? People had been telling me what I wasn’t my entire goddamn life and I was sick of it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Teller dragged in a long inhale, tapping his fingers against his mug. “Relationships aren’t about how fun you can make them. Katrina only cared about how it looked to the outside world. She didn’t care about quality.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Katrina’s not in my life anymore. I don’t want her to be.”
“I saw her last weekend.”
The jolt of shock was unwelcome. “Okay?” I gave zero fucks about Katrina or that she was in town, even though she kept coming up lately. The only reason I hated running into her was that it made me feel like that pathetic guy from ten years ago who’d put up with her in the first place.
“She was going into Flatlanders.”
That I hadn’t seen coming. “Doesn’t seem her style.”
“I think she avoids you.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.” It was lucky I hadn’t moved after her little shit-talking tour. All of her former coworkers at the bank either gave me those knowing, sympathetic looks or avoided my gaze altogether. I had moved all of Copper Summit’s financials online after that.
“People know you, Tenor. No one bought any of her shit.”
“She wasn’t lying.”
“She’s more fake than you and Ruby were pretending to be. She’s trash and that’s why she’s going to Flatlanders. It’s a shithole.”
A woman walked by, stopped, and pinned Teller with a glare. My stomach dropped. Madison Townsend. Shit.
She folded her arms over a cream-and-maroon flannel. Her jeans were as worn as Teller’s. “How exactly would you know? Been sneaking in undercover?” Her shrewd gaze shifted to me. “I expected better of you than spreading lies about my brother’s place.”
I didn’t care to get dragged into the Scooter-and-Teller drama. I kept my mouth shut.
Surprise passed through Teller’s eyes, but he quashed it quick enough with the calmness he used to really piss people off. “He doesn’t have to, Mad Maddy.”
Her left cheek twitched at the nickname. She ground her teeth together and fury flashed in her eyes. Teller’s expression was aloof, almost teasing.
My brother could be infuriating with little effort. I almost felt sorry for her. But she could’ve kept walking and left the conversation with my brother between me and him like it had been meant to be.
Teller scratched his chin. “Did you move back because Scooter wasn’t causing enough trouble?”
Her eyes sparked. “Do you only wag your tongue about Townsends when you need to feel superior, Bailey?”
“Nah.” His smile was slow. “I only let my tongue taste quality.”
She jerked, visibly stung. “Someday, you Baileys will realize that not everyone has it as easy as you.” She stomped away and slammed her way out the door, the bell tinkling for dear life.
I exhaled. “Jesus, Teller.”
He frowned at me. “What? She started it.”
“‘I only let my tongue taste quality,’” I mocked.
“You’ve heard how bad the drinks served there are.”
He couldn’t be that clueless. People thought I was the naive one of the Bailey crew. “You made it sound like she was cheap.”
“What part of saying I only let my tongue—” He blanched. “She did not take it sexually,” he hissed, but his expression was fraught, like he truly had only meant to insult the crappy bar pours and not the woman herself. I believed him, but I wasn’t Madison.
“She did.” I might’ve been indignant about her interruption as well if I hadn’t seen her be sort of considerate with Ruby.
“She didn’t have to start shit. If she’s that loyal to her asshole of a brother, then she’s probably just as much trouble.” He waved it off and took a long pull of his coffee.
“Let’s hope we never have to find out.”