“Nope,” Ellie tucks a curl behind her ear, and her eyes drift to Micky again. The slight blush I spotted in the kitchen paints her cheeks. What the fuck is going on?
I lumber to my feet and follow as Ellie trots down the front steps, light on her feet as though she’s about to head into a jog. She’s by my SUV in a flash, but I slow, turning to my brother. “What the fuck is between you and Ellie today?” I mutter.
His eyes shoot to her immediately and then to me. He has a rabbit-in-headlights look about him I recognize immediately. It’s the same look he had when I caught him eating my Halloween candy. The same as when he wore my new sneakers that I was saving for best and got them covered in mud. His guilty look.
“Nothing,” he says quickly, but I don’t believe him at all.
“It better be nothing.”
“Why? You jealous?” he asks.
“There’s nothing to be jealous of, is there?” I say, glaring.
Seb comes up behind us, clapping his hands against both our shoulders. “Come on, brothers. Our stepsister is waiting. And I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear us bickering like a bunch of toddlers.”
When I unlock the car, Ellie climbs into the front passenger seat and slams the door. Micky and Seb glance at each other, but rather than being pissed that she’s taken the shotgun position, they grin.
Nothing is quite as it should be.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on today,” I say. “But I don’t like it.”
Ellie grabs a cart at the supermarket and leads us inside like a mom with three errant kids in tow. She gives each of us a few items to find, and we separate to search them out. I grab three cases of beer and carry them back to where I last saw Ellie. On the way, I bump into Micky holding a stack of bags of chips. “I know you, Micky,” I say. “You better tell me what’s going on.”
I can’t,” he says. “I promised. But you’ll find out tonight.”
“What do you mean, I’ll find out?”
“You’ll find out,” Micky says. “That’s all I can tell you without breaking a confidence.”
“You know what dad always says. The most important people in our lives are our brothers. No one else matters,” I remind him.
“Yeah. But you not knowing for a few more hours won’t kill you,” Micky says. “You just have to be patient.”
“Patience is not a virtue I possess,” I admit, not for the first time.
“Then it’s one you’re going to need to cultivate,” Micky says.
“What does Colby need to cultivate?” Seb asks, appearing behind us like the ghost of Christmas past.
“A sense of humor.” Ellie’s voice carries from the next aisle. We can hear her but not see her. I swear she has the hearing of a hawk.
“She’s got you there,” Seb laughs. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that one.”
“Let’s just get this shopping and get out of here,” I grunt, hating the feeling that I’m out of the loop when it comes to my brothers and Ellie—hating that she’s managed to get between us, even if it’s just for a few hours. “I don’t like this,” I grumble over my shoulder as Micky heads off in the other direction. I watch him leave, noting the slight swagger to his step. The swagger that comes with getting laid.
That can’t be it.
There is no way Ellie and Micky have hooked up.
I sound big-headed in my mind when I decide that if she wanted to hook up with any of us, it would be me first.
We might have a fractious relationship, but I’m the one who’s had the most contact with Ellie. Surely that would count for something.
But as I watch Micky and Ellie for the rest of the shopping trip, I’m not so sure.
There is a weird chemistry between them, like they have shared a secret. And I’m not talking about a PG-13 secret.
When we return to the house, Ellie wanders up to the front door and disappears inside, leaving us to unload the shopping. That’s fine by me. What the hell is the point of being a big, strong man if you can’t work your muscles in order to assist the fairer sex? All afternoon, Ellie helps her mom prepare amazing-looking salads and appetizers, leaving only thirty minutes to get ready before the guests arrive. After my shower, I descend the stairs expecting Ellie to be still holed up in her room, but she’s welcoming the first guests–some of my dad’s workmates.
And she’s a knockout.
Tight black denim shorts with shredded hems and an emerald green top that only has fabric at the front and ties in tantalizing crisscrosses at the back. Her hair hangs in waves that my hands itch to grab hold of.