She casts me another sideways look, raising her eyebrows.
I glance at the booth in front of us. It’s filled with obvious romance books. Several of them have two shirtless guys hugging on the front. One has two guys kissing. My eyes widen. “She knows we’re twins, right?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I shrug. “As long as I’m top.”
From behind, Breckin slaps me upside my head then adjusts his tote bag.
“Careful, there,” I force a scowl, “don’t wanna mess up this money maker.” Rubbing my unshaved jaw, I give him an extra cheesy smile.
Without a word, he returns my scowl with one of his own, sobering my expression. I stand up a little straighter, getting what he’s saying without words.
This isn’t the time or place for bullshitting. For Asra, this is work. She doesn’t need us embarrassing her or causing trouble.
Nodding, I turn back to our girl, ready to be her support with whatever she needs.
The book fair thing ends up being a lot of fun. Asra talks to and hugs a lot of people. Acting as her personal photographer, I take close to three dozen pictures of her with various authors while Breckin carries all the books she purchases. Well, we insist on buying them all for her, after she picks them out. It’s more fun that way, watching her get all flustered.
It’s odd witnessing Asra, who normally lives in her own little bubble, fangirl. What’s even more disturbing is my brother fangirling over the same guy. I swear, they both get the same exact book and have it autographed.
We make it through the last row before Asra’s so exhausted she has to lean on me to walk.
“Are you ready to go, Sweetheart?” Breckin asks, supporting her from her other side.
She glances around, biting her bottom lip. “Um, yeah . . . I think I talked with everyone I needed to.”
“You sure?” I adjust my stack of books, then wrap my arm back around her waist.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Fuck, that word never sounded so good as coming out of her mouth.
We pick up some Chinese takeout for dinner, getting two bowls of egg drop soup for Asra in case her stomach can’t handle the orange chicken, then head back to our place. I figure the change of scenery should be good for her. We set our living room all up Thursday, new flat-screen TV and everything. There’s no better time to break it all in.
After eating and watching a movie, we cuddle until she slides onto my lap and kisses me like there’s no tomorrow. It doesn’t take long until I’m sliding my dick in her wet pussy, then we’re all three in my bedroom fucking until the early hours of the morning.
Staring at my ceiling, I ignore my blaring alarm. I need to wake up for work soon. Asra and Breckin left over an hour ago, headed north for Seattle.
I should have gone with them. Took the day off or called in sick, anything just to be there.
“It’s only a quick trip,” I grumble, turning off the alarm on my phone. Just a consultation. That’s what the doctor said on Saturday.
Shaking my head, I sit up and try to pull my head out of its funk. The pale, yellow walls help. Like the translucent inside of a lemon, it reminds me of all the best things in life: a glass of lemonade on hot days, the first, bright rays of sunshine after a long winter, summer.
Breckin suggested I paint the walls pale green or some other serene color or some shit. But no, this is perfect. Paired with solid black furniture, all white bedding, and a tan and yellow area rug, it’s exactly what I need. Well, minus one feisty brunette.
“She’ll be here tonight,” I remind myself aloud as I flip my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up.
I try to keep busy at work. That electrical apprentice still can’t tell his ass from a hole in the ground, so I spend most of the morning bending pipe and pulling wire. It’s not what I should be doing, but at least it keeps my mind far away from Seattle.
After lunch, my head starts throbbing. I pop a couple aspirin, then grab my tablet. It doesn’t take long to do a walk-through and update our status to ensure we’re still on schedule. I fix a few problems, resolve a dispute between a couple drywallers and my lead electrician, then head out to the pool barn to count inventory for tomorrow when my gut starts hurting.
It’s not burning indigestion from my greasy sausage roll at lunch. It churns deep in my gut, competing with my lingering headache. An uneasy feeling washes over me.
Something’s not right.
Pulling out my phone, I check for any messages or calls.