into my condo, every last ounce of peace from the weekend was sucked out of me.
The stench of weed hit me as hard as the music blaring from my sound system. Thank Christ for being in the penthouse or my neighbors would have been up in arms. If the roles were reversed, I would have been too.
I tossed my heavy backpack down on the floor in the entry. Not my style, but I’d put it away after I dealt with the music. Then I’d deal with Miles.
Clicking the music off, I scanned my living room. Two glasses of wine on the coffee table, one with lipstick on the rim. The end of a joint in a Baccarat tumbler half filled with melting ice. Something pink and lacy on the carpet. A tie pointing like an arrow to the hallway.
This way to the asshole.
I’d left for the weekend, not telling anyone but my assistant I’d be out of reach. Camping on my own, something I’d done since childhood. I’d needed the quiet to get my head ready for what was to come, and there was nothing like being alone, under the stars, to make everything else feel small, including me.
In my world, where my role was big—the boss, creator, CEO—having the reminder I was nothing more than a piece of dust in the grand scheme of things kept me grounded. It gave me peace.
Miles was a peace killer. He had radar, sensing my empty condo from a mile away. It was a much more impressive location to take his hookups than his bedroom at our parents’ in the suburbs. Or maybe he had an apartment now. It was difficult to keep track of my brother and his living situation. As long as he showed up to work and did his job, I remained hands-off.
Invading my home was unacceptable. Not that he cared. He’d been a loose cannon since birth. Our mother pinched his cheeks at his antics. Our father counted on me to keep him in line. A twenty-six-year-old man who needed to be kept in line.
It rankled.
“Miles!” I bellowed. “Get your filth out of my apartment.”
A moment of silence then a feminine giggle. Down the hallway, where the bedrooms were, a door opened. It had better have been a guest room. If he’d fucked someone in my bed again, there wouldn’t be enough camping trips in the world to calm my anger.
It took a solid five minutes for Miles to wander into the living room, still pulling his Henley over his head. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and there was a hickey on his neck.
A hickey.
Twenty-six years old.
Jesus.
He grinned. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d be back this early.”
My gaze swept the mess he’d left in my home. My brow winged, and I huffed. “Clearly. Get out.”
“Calm down. My guest is getting dressed. Don’t you want me to clean up?”
“I want you to leave. Take the sheets with you. I don’t have the time nor inclination for a trip to the incinerator.”
He picked up a wineglass and slugged back the contents. Wine as a shooter. Nice. Only my brother.
“Aren’t you an environmentalist? Burning perfectly good sheets seems pretty wasteful.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “They were perfectly good until your bare ass touched them. I don’t want them in my house anymore.”
He waved me off. “Dramatics. The sheets are fine. You probably paid a mint for them. Organic cotton, is it? Nothing but the best for Westie.”
There was resentment there, and I’d never known why. Miles and I had grown up with the same privileges, the same opportunities. We’d both gone to Ivy League colleges. Never had to struggle. I’d launched my business while still in college. Miles had yet to even launch himself.
He took digs at me. Laughed at my successes. Acted like the most put-upon man in the state of Colorado. Yet he’d taken the job I’d offered. Had accepted the perks of being an Aldrich—of which there were many.
He was given respect simply because of his last name.
Still, the resentment festered.
“If you’re interested in what the sheets are made of, why don’t you grab them and your guest on your way out? Give me the key before you go.”
He rolled his eyes. “Enough with the sheets. You wouldn’t have known I was ever here if you hadn’t shown up early. That’s on you.”
A shocked laugh exploded out of me. “That’s on me? Where do you get off?”
It was then his guest emerged. She couldn’t have been over twenty. I hoped like hell she was over eighteen. Miles danced the line of inappropriate, but if he was trolling the local high school for dates, I’d call the cops myself.
“How old is she?”
Miles turned to the girl. Small and blonde, her makeup was smeared and her minidress was inside out. A little girl playing dress-up and getting it all wrong.
“How old are you, sweetheart?” he cooed at her.
“I’m twenty-one.” Her upper lip curled. “You said this was your place. What, do you like, live with your dad or something?”
That made Miles snicker. “My dad. Holy fuck, you’re great.” He turned to me, his forehead crinkled with amusement. “Did you hear that? That stick up your ass is aging you, bro. You look old enough to be my dear old father.”
My nostrils flared. Not because I was insulted by some young girl who couldn’t even put her clothing on correctly—no, it was because they were both still inside my home.
“Get out.” My jaw was too tight. My dentist had already warned me I was bound to crack a molar. “Leave the key.”
Miles sighed like I was asking a lot of him then ushered the girl out. While he dealt with her, I sat down on the couch and scrolled through my neglected texts. I clicked on Elliott’s.
Elliott: Elise is moved in.
Succinct. That was Elliott Levy, my best friend since childhood. His younger sister, Elise, had needed a place to live in Denver, and I’d secured an apartment in my building. Although I hadn’t seen her yet, she’d been back in town for a couple weeks and had moved in this weekend while I was camping.
Me: Good. Does she like it?
Elliott: She’s pleased. The building is secure, and most importantly, her ex has no idea where she is.
Me: Did you give her my number? In case she needs anything.
Elliott: I’m sure she has it.
I wasn’t so certain. If she did have it, she hadn’t used it in years.
Miles plopped on the other end of the couch. He hadn’t left with his guest. Hadn’t even escorted her downstairs.
A gentleman, that one.
I raised a brow. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah.” He slid down on the cushion, lacing his hands behind his head. “Think I’ll stay for a while. How was camping?”
“How do you know where I was?”
“Context clues, Westie. The big backpack in the entry. Your absence all weekend. Oh, and your assistant spilled the beans.”
“She didn’t,” I growled.
Renata had been with me since day one—when I’d barely been able to pay her. She was loyal to her bones and, unlike many of my employees, wasn’t charmed by Miles. If I couldn’t trust her, there was no one I could trust.
He held a hand up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No need to go postal. Renata is innocent. I might have told her there was a family emergency. Pulled at her grandma heartstrings. She finally told me where you were. I’ll send her flowers to make up for it.”
“I’ll send her flowers as an apology for having to put up with my brother.”
He flicked his fingers in my direction. “Fine, fine. I’m sure whatever you choose will be better anyway. Just sign my name to it.” His hand went back to behind his head. “Anyway, you never answered. How was camping?”
I sighed. There was no reasoning with Miles. I’d tried for years, but it was an exercise in frustration.
“Good. I set up near Clary’s Pass.”
“I like it out there. You should have asked me to come.”
“The point was to get some peace and quiet.”
He turned his head toward me. “I can be quiet. Maybe I could use some peace too.”
“Next time.”
He chuckled. “That’s not true and we both know it. When was the last time you took me with you?”
“I don’t know.” I scrubbed at my gritty face. After a four-hour hike back to my car this afternoon, I needed a shower. But that wouldn’t be happening until Miles got gone and left my key behind. “Before I went to college probably.”
“When Mom made you take me.”
“When you thought it was a good idea to take LSD in the middle of nowhere, and I had to carry you, naked and singing the Beatles at the top of your lungs, back to my car. That was the last time.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh yeah. That was fun. We should do that again. I’ll be your sober companion this time and carry your big ass like a backpack.” He held up his arm and flexed. “I’ve been working out, Westie. I could do it.”
I grimaced. The idea of putting myself in my brother’s care was absolutely terrifying.
“No thanks.”
He released a long exhale, his grin slipping. “Eh, it was worth a shot.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I won’t be in the office this week.”
I sat upright, my narrowed eyes focused on my hapless brother. “Why is that?”
He shrugged. “Mom asked me to fly with her to France. I couldn’t say no, could I? I already let Renata know. My work is covered. I even sent an email to HR.” He brushed off his shoulders. “Come on, you can say it. You’re proud of me for being responsible.”
The knot in my stomach loosened. I wanted to be angry at him. He certainly knew how to push the boundaries. But he’d taken all the right steps and there was really nothing to be angry about.
“Fine. Next time, give me more warning.”
He had a goofy grin on his face again. “If you’re jealous, just say that. I know it’s tough not being Mom’s golden boy.”
I remained unaffected by his prodding. I’d heard it one too many times.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
“Nah.” He settled deeper into the couch. “Think I’ll hang out for a while. You won’t see me for a whole week, so I’ll give you the opportunity to get your fill to tide you over until next time.”
Exasperated, I pushed up from the couch and headed toward my bedroom. “I’m going to shower. You can go now. Leave the key on the counter on your way out.”
Miles called out to me. “In your dreams!”
He truly had no idea how right he was.
