The party was supposed to start at eight o’clock. I was supposed to be there at half past seven in case Nico or Cassidy decided to arrive early, but as fate would have it, it’s after eight, and I’m still at home, not even in my car yet. Not even in my jacket or anywhere near the door.
The reason? Theo’s fucking dog.
He asked me to take care of Ares for the duration of the party because little Josh wants to ride him whenever he sees the poor thing.
Thoughtfully, I agreed. Ares is well-behaved, so I don’t need to worry about pee stains on the carpet or furniture damage. He ate his fair share of shoes, cushions, and belts as a puppy and got it out of his system.
There’s just one issue I overlooked: Ghost. An albino Burmese Python I bought a few weeks ago because I was sick and tired of coming home after a long day at work to a silent, empty house. It’s not like snakes make much noise or greet you at the door, jumping, barking, and licking your face, but just knowing he’s here lifts my mood.
I could’ve bought a dog, but it seemed cruel to leave him alone for twelve hours a day, so a snake it is. A fifteen-foot-long motherfucker whose vivarium takes a third of my living room. A vivarium he hardly spends time in if I’m home.
He’s free to roam the house, which might not be the best idea now that I think about it. He scared me senseless the other day when I found him curled up under the duvet in my bed. I wanted company, but not that kind of company.
Ares appears to have suicidal tendencies because he wants to play with the python that could, without much effort, swallow him whole. Pleading, shouting, and threatening him with no toys and no dinner doesn’t help. I’m left with no choice but to lock him in the kitchen.
“Sorry, boy, but I don’t trust Ghost not to eat you,” I crouch in the doorway to pat his head. “Slim chance he’ll open the vivarium, but if you piss him off, he might break the glass, and your mommy will cut off my balls if you get hurt here.”
He tilts his head, watching me with big, clever eyes as if he understands every word I say. I wish. If he were still a pup, I’d carry him around all evening to keep him away from Josh, but he’s not a pup. He’s full-grown, weighs sixty pounds, and, as we’ve established, lifting isn’t my strongest suit.
I leave him with a few treats to compensate for locking him in the kitchen with one shitty chew toy because that’s all Thalia packed and return to the living room to quadruple-check that Ghost is locked and secure. He lazily wraps himself around a thick tree branch, giving zero fucks about anything or anyone.
The previous owner said he’ll be full for two weeks once fed, so he shouldn’t be hungry for another eight days, but I refuse to take any risks. Not when I have Thalia’s dog under my doubtfully competent care. She’ll rip me apart if one hair falls off her baby’s head.
Shit, this is nerve-wracking.
What if Ares chokes on that measly chew toy? What if he opens the cabinet with the cleaning stuff my cleaning lady, Mira, uses and bites through a bottle of bleach? What if—
Stop being stupid, Logan.
I close the living room door as yet another precaution. Snakes can’t open doors, right?
Fuck! What about dogs?
Maybe it’d be better to stay home. I pull my phone out and shoot a message to the Hayes brothers’ group chat.
Me: Can Ares open doors?
Theo: Not that I’m aware of. Why?
Me: Just checking. I’m having a bit of a logistical nightmare trying to figure out the safest way to store the dog away from the snake.
Nico: Store? You don’t store a dog, asshat. See? That’s why you should’ve left the little shit with me, Theo.
Me: Fuck you.
Nico: No, thanks.
Theo: Just get your ass over here. You’re late.
“Not helping, bro,” I growl, shoving the phone into my pocket.
Whatever. I did my best to ensure the safety of the four-legged, furry creature, so my conscience is clear. Theo can perform open-snake surgery if the fucker eats his dog. And I’ll move to Mozambique, far away from Thalia’s reach.
I slip into my letterman jacket and hop behind the wheel of my Charger, reversing out of the driveway.
“What the hell took you so long?” Theo complains when he lets me in twenty minutes later. “Lock the dog, lock the snake.” He gestures left and right. “Job done.”
“If this ends in a bloodbath, don’t blame me. Ares is in the kitchen. Ghost is in the living room. Two sets of doors between them. It’ll have to do,” I huff, taking my jacket off.
“Don’t tell Thalia about the dog-eating snake.”
The woman in question appears in the hallway, greeting me with a dazzling smile and an expectant head tilt: a non-verbal order to kiss her cheek. God help me if I don’t oblige.
She’s yet another woman my younger brother snatched up first. I got over my initial crush on Thalia fast, but there’s no denying she’s beautiful. Long legs, a curvy body, and an exotic face. She’s a brunette, so not my type, but she’s one of those women you can’t walk past without a second glance. And to top it off, she’s as lovely inside as she is outside… when she’s not angry, that is.
Theo’s one lucky bastard.
“Happy birthday, honey.” I hand her a gift bag and stamp that obligatory kiss on her cheek, or else I’ll get a taste of her disapproval. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you.” A satisfied smile curves her full, blood-red lips. “You look rather handsome yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Theo interjects, his tone clipped but eyes playful. “Enough. Let’s get you a drink.” He grips my shoulders, steering me into the open living area, where people crowd the space in smaller and larger groups, talking and laughing over the eighties hits playing from the sound system.
Mom stands to the side, holding a flute of champagne, her assessing eyes scanning the guests. Her new hairstyle, a short pixie cut, makes her look ten years younger than her fifty-seven. You’d never guess she raised seven boys with how fresh, rested, and beautiful she looks.
Dad’s wrinkly thanks to his political career and endless smiling, but he’s still a sharp dresser at sixty-one. He’s got that boy-next-door vibe that won him the election twice in a row.
They probably hoped to have enough grandkids to start a football team by now, but tough luck. Only Shawn stood up to the task, and now that Josh is more manageable, he and Jack are thinking about adopting another kid.
Theo’s slacking for no apparent reason; I don’t have a girl, let alone a wife; the triplets are too young, and Nico… I don’t think that guy will ever find a woman capable of withstanding his crazy ass. Unless there’s another one like Kaya around. One who’ll have the guts to hold her ground and tame Nico’s temper and overbearing personality.
A girl just like Kaya minus the drinking, cheating, hell-stirring, manipulative, crazy, demonic bitch side, obviously.
“How’s the situation?” I ask when Theo grabs a beer out of the fridge. “Everyone chill?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” He comes closer, lowering his voice. “Cass avoids Nico like the plague.”
A loud cheer fills the air, and we both cast a sideways glance to where Shawn scoots Josh off the floor, kissing his head. “You’re okay,” he coos, messing up his light blonde hair. “You need to watch where you’re going.”
“And walk, not run,” Jack adds with a smirk before his eyes lock with mine, and a devilish grin twists his lips. “Look, Josh, Uncle Logan’s here.”
Josh’s big eyes follow Jack’s finger. As soon as he sees me, he bounces in Shawn’s arms, hands outstretched toward me even though I’m at least thirty feet away.
What can I do?
I cross the room, greeting a few people on the way. I kiss Mom on the cheek and pat Nico’s back before I reach my oldest brother and steal his kid. “You and me, buddy,” I say, snatching a small toy car off the floor before someone steps on it and goes airborne. “We need to keep an eye on everyone, so they behave themselves. You’ll help me, won’t you?”
He shakes his head, yanking my baseball cap. “No.”
Short, sweet, and to the point. I love this kid.
The triplets chuckle, high-fiving Josh.
“Good call, my man,” Cody says, keeping at a distance. He learned his lesson not to come close unless Josh has a toy in his hands. If he doesn’t, he finds Cody’s man bun fascinating and tries to rip his hair out of his skull. “Don’t listen to Uncle Logan. Tell him to do the airplane.”
Josh bounces around in my arms, excited by the idea. I hand my beer to Cody, then fly the kid around the perimeter of the room for a few minutes. My arms are on fire from supporting his weight on my forearm and gripping his t-shirt to keep him from really flying away.
That’d be a sight to fucking see.
Not Josh flying.
Me dying at the hands of my older brother.
“Okay, enough.” I set him back on the floor.
That’s when my eyes land on Cassidy.
I’ve not seen her in a while. We bumped into each other five, maybe six months ago at one of the clubs in town, but I was pretty wasted at the time and vaguely recall a nimble college girl hanging on my arm. I had to change my phone number afterward because she wouldn’t stop bombarding me with messages and pictures of her boobs. Perky and pretty boobs, sure, but been there, done that.
Now that I’m sober… holy shit.
Either my mind plays tricks on me, or time faded the memories because here she is, looking spellbinding in a fitted, red dress, the fabric not a millimeter under her milky collarbones. I smile internally, scanning her flawless legs. Those were wrapped around my waist one night three years ago. Too bad her legs are all she’s showing. And not much of them.
Her dress is only an inch above the knee, flared at the bottom, with a silk ribbon tied around her ribs. The blood-red color is the only extravagance, but a bit of lace here and there proves what I already know about Cassidy Annabelle Roberts. She might be trying to fit in with the upper class; to come across as a mature, sophisticated woman, but she’s not as well-behaved as she portrays herself.
No, no, no… Cass is a wild cookie.
Blonde hair frames her delicate face, and cornflower-blue eyes surrounded by thick eyelashes stare into mine. Lips to match the dress curl into a barely there, uncertain smile.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, stepping from one foot to another like she’s uncomfortable standing in a room full of Hayes.
Good.
She should be.
Not only is she Kaya’s best friend, which makes her undesirable in our circle right off the bat, but she fucked Theo, and now she stands in his living room celebrating his wife’s birthday as if nothing ever happened.
Not to mention, she fucked me, too.
And what a night that was…
“More!” Josh jumps around me, hands in the air. “Again!”
I clear my throat, shifting my gaze from Cass to the little boy. “Find Uncle Cody. It’s his turn.”
“I’ll take over.” My father stops beside me, overdressed in a three-piece charcoal suit and in mayor mode as usual. He takes Josh’s hand, beaming. “Come on. I hear Daddy bought you a new car. Can I see?”
Involuntarily and against better judgment, my eyes cut back to Cassidy. She’s no longer watching me, engrossed in a conversation with one of Thalia’s friends from work.
Was she always this pretty?
She trimmed the too-long hair that used to fall to her ass all the way back to shoulder length. Her sense of style has improved, too. Her dress isn’t as modest as I initially thought, but it doesn’t reveal much. She used to dress as if to mimic Kaya, showing more ass and boobs than appropriate.
Not anymore. Tonight, she’s sexy but classy. No cleavage at the front, but her entire back is on display, revealing sun-kissed complexion.
I travel back to the night we spent together, reliving my own fascination with the dimples of Venus marking her lower back—the sexiest thing I ever saw on a woman.
My cock stirs when the images of her naked body riding me in a sensual rhythm resurface. The way she nibbled my lips and then dug her nails into my scalp when she came on my tongue, and how she smelled so fresh like lemons and ginger.
The porn clip in my head stops abruptly.
“You good?” Nico asks, and I jerk my head to him so fast I hear a crack in my neck. Guilt sprouts in the pit of my stomach as two vertical creases mark his forehead. “You good, Logan?” he repeats. “You look lost.”
He hands me a bottle of Bud Light he must’ve intercepted from Cody, who’s flying Josh around the kitchen island. That kid will be a nightmare when he hits his teenage years. Six of his uncles spoil him rotten. It might not be the best strategy, but to hell with that. Shawn’s the father. It’s his job to raise the kid and our job to make sure Josh knows how to drive his dads up the wall with stupid pranks.
“I’m good.” I shove my hands in my pockets to disguise the apparent bulge in the zipper region of my jeans. “I forgot Cass was…” I want to say coming, but that’s a dangerous play on words in my current state, “…going to be here.”
Liar, liar.
Nico’s jaw tenses as he inhales a deep breath to cool his jets, and seemingly back in control, he changes the subject. “I’m thinking of renovating the house. You got time this week to draw some plans for me?”
“Sure. Anytime.”
As if I could say no to the guy who made me a millionaire. It’s thanks to him that I could afford the four-bedroom house my company—correction, my grandfather’s company I work for—built last year.
We spend twenty minutes discussing his idea for remodeling the ground floor before we’re interrupted by Theo and a three-tier birthday cake.
The conversations die down and are quickly replaced by an off-key, off-sync Happy Birthday. Using the few seconds of everyone’s inattention, I steal another glance at Cass only to find her looking at me.
