24. Ford
FORD
I barely slept. I needed to. It’s going to be a long-ass night, what with the massive cleanup I know will be needed after the event, but I tossed and turned all night.
I keep telling myself it’s because anytime I move onto my stomach, I can feel my heartbeat in my cheek, but the truth is a hell of a lot more pathetic.
It was one fucking kiss.
Annoyed, I check the time on my phone and pad downstairs to the kitchen.
It’s almost seven in the morning. Might as well find a solid distraction to occupy my time until tonight.
Still not sure whether or not it’s a good idea to host a Harden Event when Hawke is yet to track down the damn footage of Jagger helping Violet during the haunted house, but we can’t wait around forever. It isn’t an option.
And neither is tracking down June and kissing the shit out of her until she forgets her boyfriend’s fucking name.
“Come on, Romeo. Please, please, please?” a soft, feminine voice begs.
Rubbing at my tired eyes, I enter the kitchen, convinced I misheard something. No one calls Roman Romeo. Not if they want to see the light of day. Unless the person behind the nickname is my baby sister, anyway. Yeah, for some reason, she gets away with murder.
Aaaand, there she is.
With her hands pressed together in a prayer motion, an oblivious Cobie, in a pair of leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, twists on one of the barstools while Roman’s jaw twitches from the opposite side of the island.
The hardwood floor creaks as I step inside the kitchen. Roman’s attention snaps to me, and he leans back, putting more distance between him and my baby sister while Cobie continues begging and batting her lashes like she has him wrapped around her little finger. Then again, she kind of does.
She has all of us wrapped around her little finger. So much so, we’re out twenty-two grand because of it.
“Did I…miss something?” I ask.
Roman shakes his head and pushes the rest of the way from the island. “Don’t ask me. Ask him,” he tells Cobie.
“Rome,” she seethes under her breath, like he just betrayed the shit out of her.
Interesting.
Folding my arms, I lean against the doorjamb leading into the kitchen as if I have all the time in the world. “Ask me what?” I interject.
Her eyes narrow on my best friend. “Coward.” Then, she turns to me. “So, I heard there’s going to be a Harden event tonight, and—”
“No.”
“Come on,” she begs. She turns up the puppy dog eyes she’s already sporting into the orange cat from Shrek. “I promise I’ll be good. Please, please, please?”
I give Roman the side-eye before addressing Cobie directly. “How’d you even know about it?”
She grimaces and drops her praying hands to her lap. “I may or may not have overheard Jagger talking to Violet about it.”
“So you were eavesdropping.”
Her grimace deepens. “Not on purpose.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” I tisk, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“Okay, so I kind of meant to hear, all right?” she caves. “But you would’ve, too, if you found out something fun and exciting was on the agenda for tonight.”
Maybe. Probably. Yeah, no, I definitely would’ve shamelessly eavesdropped for all the details. What’s that saying, though? Do as I say, not as I do? Yup. That’s the one. And Cobie, we’ve yet to expose to Harden Nights. My gaze narrows. “What’s your point, Cobes?” I prod.
“My point is, I really want to go. Please?”
“And you thought you’d use your feminine wiles to convince Roman to let you come?”
She gives Roman the side-eye, mirroring my same look from moments before. Well, would you look at that? Nature versus nurture in its rawest form. Seems she’s a Harden after all.
“Trust me, I’m well aware Romeo isn’t affected by my feminine wiles,” she murmurs.
“Then it looks like he won’t have to be neutered.” I reach for an orange from the bowl on the island and toss it into the air. “And on that note, I’m going back to bed.”
“Come on, Ford!” Cobie pleads. “I really want to go!”
I take a step toward the exit, but stop my retreat. “I already said no.”
“Why can’t I come?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
A scoff escapes her. “It’s not that dangerous.”
“And how would you know?” I counter. “You’ve never been to a Harden Night.”
“Because you won’t let me.”
“Because it’s dangerous,” I repeat.
“It’s not dangerous!” she snaps.
“And how would you know?” I repeat, well aware we’re going in circles.
She knows it too. I can see it in her hard glare and flaring nostrils. She won’t back down, though. Seems the Harden genes strike again.
“You want to know how I know?” she seethes. “Because if it was actually dangerous, there’s no way Jagger would let Violet go.”
Damn. She makes a good point. Or at least, she thinks that’s what she’s doing.
And sure, my ammunition might be culled, but what she doesn’t understand is that Harden Nights are still dangerous.
It’s just that no one is stupid enough to touch Violet Reeves.
Not now that Jagger has claimed her. And even if he hadn’t, he rarely lets her out of his sight, and I’m too busy to babysit Cobie.
Biting into the orange peel to pierce the skin, I rip off a chunk and toss it into the sink. “You still can’t come.”
“Why not?” Cobie groans. “I won’t even participate, okay? I’ll just stay on the sidelines and watch,” she suggests.
“Still no.”
“Come on, you have no idea how bored I am.”
“You can go to Uncle Judge’s,” I offer.
“I’ve already been to Uncle Judge’s,” she argues. “Like, a lot. And I love him, you know I do, but come on!” she repeats, reminding me of a damn parrot. “Dude, I am eighteen. I am not a little kid anymore.”
“Never said you were.”
“Then can you at least admit that you see how ridiculous you’re being?”
I toss another piece of orange peel into the sink. “By acting like a responsible older brother?”
She snorts. “Says the guy who’s sporting a bruise from a fight yesterday.” Her hand waves at my face. “Yeah, real responsible, big brother.”
With a bored expression, I scratch the bruise in question with my forefinger, my gaze never wavering from hers. I could always tell her Daddy Dearest was the culprit behind the damage, but what good would it do?
“Cut Ford some slack,” Roman interjects.
His deep voice grabs her attention. “I will, if he’ll return the sentiment.” She holds his gaze before turning back to me. “Come on, Ford. Dad won’t let me do anything or go anywhere unless it’s to Uncle Judge’s or the coffee shop, and I’m going stir crazy. Please?”
I glance at a silent Roman. Arms folded, he stares back at me as if to say, your call.
It only pisses me off more. I’m too tired for this shit.
After June left with Bryan last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how warm her lips were.
How good she tasted. How pretty they’d look wrapped around my cock.
Not the fucking time, asshole.
Realizing how close I am to breaking, Cobie faces Roman again. “Please, Rome?”
His gaze falls to her. “Pips—”
“Please?” she begs.
A twinge hits the edge of his jaw, like it did when I first entered the kitchen. “If you’re good with it, I’ll keep an eye on her,” he grumbles.
He’s caving? Seriously?
I roll my eyes, rip a quarter of the orange from the rest of the sphere, and pop it into my mouth. I’m getting too damn soft. “Anyone touches her, I’ll kill you,” I warn.
Roman’s nod is grave at best as Cobie jumps from the barstool. Rushing toward me, she wraps me in a hug, her squeals nearly bursting my eardrum. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I mutter. “I’ll let Hawke and Jagger know you’re coming, but only to spectate.
Tonight’s event is going to be…” I let Cobie go and toss another piece of orange into my mouth.
Chewing slowly, I finish, “This isn’t your average party.
If you see anything, hear anything, anything,” I emphasize. “No, you didn’t.”
“Got it.”
“I’m serious,” I push. “Especially to Dad. Do you understand?”
She zips her mouth with an imaginary zipper. “My lips are sealed. Promise.”
Satisfied, I give her a jerky nod, then head back to my room. Fuck, maybe Daddy Dearest was onto something when he forced Cobie to stay at her boarding school because I’m pretty sure she could get away with murder, and if any of us found out, we’d ask if she needs help getting rid of the body.