The knock at the door yanked him out of his misery. His brother stood on the threshold, his perceptive blue eyes trained on him. “You look like shit, bro.”
“Thanks. You too.” Spencer reached for his briefcase then stopped. It wasn’t his brother’s fault that he was such a fucking jerk. “Look, about before.”
“I only have one question.” Adam dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Are you really dumb enough to let Kelly go?”
“I…what?”
“You heard me.”
“She didn’t actually tell you—”
“Sure she did. Once we’d gotten past the niceties, we fell right into conversation. She said she was your former boinkee.”
“Former boinkee,” Spencer repeated, again reaching for his briefcase. He needed to hold on to something. “Why can I hear her saying exactly that?”
“She’s a plain-speaking girl. I don’t really see her as your type, but hell, she is pretty hot.”
Spencer sat, but only because he was suddenly too exhausted to stand. “If she were any more my type I’d be—”
Dead.
He rubbed his temple. “Why are you here?”
Adam grinned and stroked his fledgling goatee. He’d been trying to grow one for years and hadn’t yet succeeded. “This is why I crashed at Marsh’s. She was actually happy to see me. She gave me an actual hug and stuff.”
Spencer couldn’t restrain his own grin. Thank God for his little brother. “Maybe I would’ve hugged you if you hadn’t had your paws on my woman.”
Hearing himself, he glanced at the door. At least no one else could hear him being so pathetic.
“Well, I figure she’s back on the market, so technically that makes her open game.” Adam gave him a toothy smile, the one that worked magic on their mother and made Spencer want to gouge out his own eyeballs with a rusty butter knife. “Right? You broke up with her. So that must mean you’re done.”
Because he knew well how Adam operated, Spencer just shuffled papers on his desk. “We’re done, yes.” Even the words tasted sour. “But if you touch her, you’ll be shopping for a new set of nuts. Fair warning.”
“Big talk from such a broken man.” Adam scooted forward and leaned his forearms on the desk. “Let me guess. She’s a dud in the sack. The legs are pretty, useless twigs. Her ass is really flat, her tits—”
“Are not your concern,” Spencer finished, fighting another grin. His brother knew just how to poke and prod him out of a mood. Lord knows he’d had plenty of practice. “Seriously, Adam, drop it. All right?”
“Hmm, no locker room bragging. That means one of two things. There’s nothing to brag about—which is basically impossible, because all guys lie when it counts—or else you care about her. Like, really care. Beyond the normal limits of cordial concern the almighty Spencer allows himself for his lovers.”
Spencer rose and glared down at his brother, his sense of humor rapidly disintegrating. “Mind your own business.”
“Currently I’m fresh out of business,” Adam said cheerfully, tossing back his unruly blond mop. It was too long and badly cut, as usual. Spencer had a feeling he had his stylist shape it that way on purpose. All part of the Adam Galvin shtick. “Plus yours is pretty interesting, since women don’t fall in love with you that often. For good reason.”
“Jesus Christ,” Spencer exploded. “Did she tell you all about our sex life too?”
“I’ll never tell,” he said in a singsong voice.
“I don’t have time for this.” Spencer grabbed his briefcase and the stack of files he’d set aside. “Give me a call when you grow up.”
“Spence, wait,” Adam said when Spencer was about to cross the threshold.
Spencer stopped and took a deep breath. “What?”
“If you need to talk, I’m here.”
Spencer glanced back at his brother. “It’s good seeing you,” he said finally. “You still going to be around in a week?”
Adam smiled. “It’s a good bet, yeah. Think I’ll take a couple weeks vacay up here, clear the old head a bit. Hang. Visit with Marsh. Annoy the cute redhead with all the cookies. You know.”