I can’t stop staring at him. I can’t tear my eyes away.
Bran is ridiculously manscaped.
Well, not ridiculously.
Expertly.
Perfectly.
And what he has below that manscaping is—
It’s at this moment that I realize I’ve been staring at his crotch for far too long, and I drag my eyes up to meet his.
There’s a smile on his face that I can only label as self-important.
I scowl at him and though my window is shut, I yell, “You’re doing that on purpose. Now who’s the perv?”
He raises a dark brow, and his lips move in reply.
I think he says, “You were waiting for me.”
So I say, “No, I wasn’t.”
Ahem, I think ‘Yes, I was.’
I definitely was.
I look away for just a second, and when I look back, he’s gone and I spend the rest of the afternoon avoiding my bedroom even though I really want to catch sight of him again.
I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. Why is he torturing me? He probably gets a rise out of making me blush.
And it infuriates me even more.
When Kelly comes home from work, she’s got two bags of groceries in her arms. I take one and start unpacking it.
“I am so glad it’s the weekend,” Kelly says as she drops her bag on the counter. “This has been an extremely long week.”
I put away a block of cheese and a tub of yogurt in the fridge. “What happened?”
She slides onto one of the bar stools at the island and scrubs at her face. “The shifters are trying to slip out of paying their share of the summer taxes, and the witches have had it up to here with the vampires because one of the Rowan vamps stole one of the Mulligan virgins and debased her.”
I put the bread in the cupboard and the box of cheese crackers in the pantry as Kelly goes on.
“But let me tell you, that virgin was not going to stay a virgin much longer. I saw her flirting with the grocery store clerk a week ago. I’m surprised she didn’t jump his bones right there! I don’t get paid enough to deal with this.”
“What’s the shifters’ excuse for not paying taxes?” I ask not because I care but because I know Kelly needs to vent, and the quicker I let her do that, the quicker I can ask her about this Duval nonsense.
“They’re trying to say their land is smaller than the vampires’ land, so their share should be smaller, which I don’t exactly disagree with, but these things were agreed upon over a century ago. If they want to change it, they have to go about it the fair and legal way, instead of just not paying taxes. Don’t they understand that that money helps fund the schools?”
“Lots going on then,” I say.
She blows out a breath. “You have no idea.”
For the first time, I notice the heavy bags beneath Kelly’s eyes. She might be a disaster in organization and house chores, but she’s extremely particular about her facial care and spends an insane amount of money on it every month. She usually treats her eyes with patches at least twice a week.
With all of the groceries put away, I cross my arms over my chest and lean into the island. “So…my Pledge is coming up, and I was wondering…”
Kelly sighs again. “Right. I know.” She gets up and pulls the corkscrew from the drawer. “That snuck up on us, didn’t it?” She tears off the foil from the bottle of wine she bought and then turns the corkscrew into the cork.
“Yeah definitely snuck up on us.”
I don’t know how to slide into this conversation without being obvious. Kelly instigated the Duval bid, though I’m only getting that from Bran. Sam had a good point—why would Bran come to me with something so outlandish if it wasn’t true? But then again, who do I trust more? My sister or the annoyingly hot vampire next door?
Maybe I should just come right out and ask her.
“Speaking of birthdays,” I start.
Kelly yanks out the cork with a loud pop.
“What was it like for you when Mom brought me home?” I ask.
My dad died before I was even born, so I know everything surrounding my birth was chaotic and traumatic and a complete blur.
Kelly’s back is to me, so I can’t see her face, but the way she tenses up and goes still leads me to believe I’ve hit on something.
“Why do you ask?” she says carefully.
“I don’t know. I was just thinking…like it must have been weird for you because you were older and you were used to being an only child and then this wailing baby comes home and disrupts everything.”
Kelly pulls a wine glass from the shelf. “I never thought that. You were cute and chubby, and you smelled like sugar and heather and thistle.” The wine glug-glugs into the glass. “I used to rock you to sleep sometimes because you would cry and cry some nights. When I’d finally get you to calm down, you’d suck your thumb in the most adorable way. Like the poster child for all babies in the world.”
I laugh. “You never told me that.”
She grabs the glass around the stem and turns to me, one arm folded over her middle. “I took the role of big sister seriously.”
“You definitely did. You even became my guardian after Mom died. Not every sister would do that.”
She nods. “We’re a team. You and I. I wouldn’t have left you to the wolves.”
In Midnight Harbor, that phrase is almost literal.
Kelly comes over and gives my shoulder a squeeze. Her dark brown hair is wound up into a perfect bun on top of her head. Several wispy strands hang around her thin face. The older she gets, the more she looks like our mother. She got Mom’s nose and Mom’s thin lips, and sometimes when she wrinkles her nose at something annoying or disgusting, it’s like déjà vu.
“About my Pledge,” I start, “is there anything—”
Kelly’s phone rings in her bag. She breaks away to dig for it. When she pulls it out and reads the screen, her mouth screws up in a grimace. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Julian. He wants me to come to the house.” She looks forlornly at her wine. “Goddammit.” She puts the glass into the fridge and picks up her bag again. “I’ll be back later, okay?”
“Sure.”
She plants a quick kiss on my cheek before hurrying out the door, leaving me to stew longer in my unanswered questions.
Sam texts me a little after seven to remind me of the Harbor Party. I’ll swing by to pick you up in a little over an hour.
Sounds good, I type back and then hurry into the shower.
Harbor parties are always a mixed bag, so I’m not planning to try too hard. As I flip through my closet, my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but it’s local. I slide to answer it and say distantly, “Hello?”
“Are you going to the Harbor party tonight?”
The voice is hoarse and sensuously rich, and the sound of it in my ear is like silk dragging over my skin.
My reflection in the mirror shivers.
“Why do you care?” I ask Bran and put the phone on speaker. If he keeps talking directly in my ear, I might spontaneously combust.
“My brother might be there,” he says.
“So?”
“What will you wear?” he asks, dodging the question.
I come out of the bathroom and go to my bedroom window, phone in hand. I’m not surprised to find him at his bedroom window too. At least this time he’s fully clothed in a black t-shirt and jeans. The shirt is loose around the collar, and even from across the space between our houses, I can tell the material is thin. His dark hair is wet, and several chunks stick up at his forehead like he just raked his fingers through it.
Bran is the type of vampire that makes careless look sexy as hell, and it makes me angry.
I’m still in a bath towel, and when he sees me, his eyes ignite.
I know that look. I’ve been around enough vampires to know when one is hungry for a bite.
“Will you be there?” I ask.
He leans into the window frame. “Maybe,” he says into the phone.
“Then you’ll see what I’m wearing when I get there.”
“Perhaps I want a sneak peek.” He levels his gaze at me.
He’s baiting me, and I think I’m about to bite.
I don’t know why.
I’m not exactly sure what makes Bran so irritating and tempting at the same time.
“Fine.” I turn away and disappear back into my bathroom and into my closet. Up until this point, I’d planned to wear jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, but if I put that on for Bran, he’s going to—
I was about to say be disappointed.
Why the fuck do I care?
I shake my head and pull out the jeans and my tie-dye sweatshirt. After setting them out on the table, I open the drawer for a pair of panties and hear Bran tsk-tsk through the phone.
“What?” I ask.
“No panties.”
“Hey! How the—”
He knows the sound of my panty drawer opening?
I stand frozen in the middle of my closet, my core clenched tight. I’m suddenly flush all over and so fucking turned on, I want to scream at him.
No panties.
No panties?!
The thought makes me wet.
I’m tingling between my legs like a live wire has been jacked into me.
Shit.
Murdering Bran is looking more and more likely.
Except…a little part of me wants to do as Bran says if only to show him how much I don’t care. The no panties thing feels like a dare, and I’m not about to chicken out.
