Hot and Bothered (Sin and Tonic Book 4)

by Athena Wright

  She had the same green eyes, the same dark chestnut hair. Their faces were similar, with the same nose and cheekbones. Her jaw was slimmer and more narrow than his, but one thing was clear. They were related.

  “Hey Christie,” Evan said as she hugged him.

  My heart sunk.

  So this was Christie. It had been someone from his family. If there hadn’t been such an obvious age difference between them, they could have been fraternal twins.

  They ended the hug and came down the hallway together. I quickly shuffled over on the sofa and pretended to be absorbed in my book, not wanting to get caught watching them. When they got to the living room, I looked up and pretended to see her for the first time.

  “Hello,” I said politely.

  “Hey!” Christie returned brightly. “You’re Alice, right? My brother told me lots about you.”

  I smiled tightly. I couldn’t say the same for her. They were siblings after all, but Evan had never mentioned her once.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Christie,” I said, studiously avoiding Evan’s eyes. “Here for a visit?”

  Her mouth dipped with the briefest flash of a frown before curving upward again.

  “I haven’t seen my brother in a while,” Christie said. “I thought it might be nice to stay for a day or two.”

  A day or two? She was going to be here for more than just an afternoon visit? That would make things even more awkward between Evan and me. We wouldn’t be able to talk in front of her, and it would be weird if we purposely closed ourselves off in the bedroom and ignored her when she’d come to see her brother.

  Would I be able to talk to Evan at all before work?

  “Are you reading one of Evan’s books?” Christie asked.

  I looked at the book in my hand.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” I told her. “I’ve always admired the cover art.”

  “He’s really talented, isn’t he?” She beamed up at Evan.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He is.”

  “Are you hungry?” Evan asked Christie. “I can get you something to eat.”

  “I’d never say no to food,” she replied.

  Just like her brother.

  The two of them chatted in the kitchen while munching on carrot sticks, grapes, and cubes of cheese, like a mini charcuterie board. It was a pale imitation of the ostentatious spreads my parents put out at parties, but at that moment I would have given up a dozen wheels of brie and a mountain of prosciutto to be sitting at that kitchen table with them.

  I hated fighting with Evan. I hated that he was mad at me. I hated myself for having stirred up all this trouble in the first place.

  I tried to go back to my book, but I couldn’t help listening in on their conversation. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they were loud enough for me to hear over in the living room. I couldn’t help but catch what they were saying.

  “School’s been good?” Evan asked.

  “Top of my class,” she said proudly. “I’ve gotten early acceptance at three colleges.”

  “That’s awesome.” Evan ruffled her hair, messing up the strands, making her squawk in protest.

  “I haven’t been accepted into my number one choice yet, though,” she said. “They’re the one with the full-ride scholarship.”

  “You’ll get it,” Evan said confidently.

  “I hope so.” Christie gnawed on her bottom lip. “There’s an in-person interview as part of the selection process. It’s a few hours away. I asked Mom—” She stopped. When she continued speaking, it was in a quiet murmur. “She said she would drive me.”

  Evan took in a sharp breath.

  “I can always take you,” he said.

  “She promised she would.” Christie’s voice was low.

  “You know you can’t always—”

  “She’s trying, okay? Christie interrupted. “Things are getting better.”

  “Then why are you here now and not there with her?” Evan asked.

  Christie snapped back at him, but her voice was too low for me to hear this time. Evan’s response was equally quiet.

  I felt guilty for having listened to their whole conversation, and now that they were speaking in low tones I didn’t try to make out what they were saying.

  I went back to concentrating on my book to leave them to catch up privately. But still, I couldn’t help but replay the conversation in my head.

  There had a be a reason Christie was staying with us for a few days.

  23

  Despite my guilt over listening in on Evan and his sister, I’d learned more about his life in that one overheard conversation than I had in the entire time I’d known him.

  His sister was a bright young woman who clearly cared about their mom, but something was off. Driving your daughter to a scholarship interview was a totally normal thing to do, but something about their mom’s offer had agitated them. Christie said their mom was trying and things, whatever those might be, were getting better. Evan didn’t seem convinced.

  If everything had been normal between me and Evan I might have outright asked him about it, but things were so strained between us it didn’t seem like a good idea. And I definitely didn’t want him realizing I’d heard what they’d been talking about. Reading his messages was bad enough. Purposely eavesdropping was even worse.

  When Evan and his sister finished snacking and talking, they left the kitchen and came into the living room. I made sure my nose was buried in the book. Christie took a seat on one of the available armchairs, settling in comfortably for the time being. That left Evan to share the sofa with me. He sat on the opposite side, leaving the middle space between us free.

  Before, whenever we lounged in the living room we always sat together, with his arm around my shoulder or waist and me snuggling up next to him. Having this distance between us, as minuscule as it was, was like a dagger to my chest.

  If Christie thought there was anything odd about the two of us sitting so far apart, she didn’t comment on it.

  “Evan tells me you’ve been modeling for him?” Christie asked me, making small talk.

  “Just the once,” I said. “He needed a reference model for an odd pose.”

  “Odd how?” Christie asked.

  I waited for Evan to answer. He could explain his artistic process better than I could.

  But he stayed silent. It was unlike him. He was always so sociable. But now he simply leaned against the arm of the sofa, looking off to the side.

  “Evan was drawing a kickass girl killing a dragon,” I said. “I used the broom as a sword.”

  Christie laughed.

  “I would have loved to see that,” she said.

  Was Evan still so upset he didn’t even want to engage in conversation with me in the room? Or perhaps he was distracted by something else. Maybe talking about his mom was enough to rattle him.

  There had to be a reason Evan never talked about his mom, after all. He had never even brought up his sister with me. They clearly got along well. It wasn’t like he was estranged from his family. So why did he so rarely mention them? Why was he always so tightlipped when it came to… anything about himself, really? The only thing I could recall was our conversation about birthdays. He’d said his mom used to throw him a party for his school friends when he was young. It had been a throwaway comment. He hadn’t followed up with any details. In fact, as far as I could remember, he had turned the conversation back around on me.

  It seemed as if that was what he always did. He would rather talk about me than about himself.

  But now that his sister was here, maybe I could use the opportunity to learn a bit more about him? If I asked her questions, surely she would answer them? Unless being secretive and reticent ran in the family.

  If I learned more about Evan, maybe I’d stumble upon some way to make him forgive me. Maybe there was something I could say that would make mending our rift easier.

  I tried to think of something to ask first, some sort of innocuous topi
c that wouldn’t raise suspicions. I didn’t want them to think I was probing for information, even though that was exactly what I was doing.

  I wracked my brains, trying to come up with a question. Eventually, I gave up and decided to start with Christie. It was only polite that I ask her about herself to make conversation, wasn’t it? I just had to make sure I didn’t say anything that would clue them in to the fact that I’d overheard them talking.

  “So, Christie,” I began. “You’re in high school?” It was a safe enough question.

  “I’m in my last year,” she said. “I’ll be off to college next semester.”

  “Do you have a major in mind?” I asked.

  “Probably chemistry or physics,” she said. “I really like science.”

  “Physics is a pretty tough subject,” I said.

  “It is, but I’m good at it,” she said.

  “You’re not an artsy person like your brother?” I asked.

  She shook her head laughing.

  “Not at all,” she said. “Evan got all the artistic talent in the family. I can’t even draw stick figures.”

  “Neither can I,” I said. “That’s why I’m really impressed by Evan’s art.”

  I cast a sidelong glance at him. His wandering thoughts seemed to be back on our conversation, but his eyes were averted, as if he didn’t want us to know he was paying attention.

  “He’s been drawing since he was a little kid,” Christie said.

  I did a little inward cheer. I’d managed to turn the conversation to Evan the way I’d planned.

  “He used to draw these little comics,” she said. “The characters were animals that could talk. Sometimes he’d insert the two of us as animal characters and we’d go on adventures.”

  “That sounds really cute,” I said. “What animals did he draw you as?”

  “I was a squirrel,” she said. “He was a hedgehog.”

  “I’d give anything to see those comics,” I said.

  “I might still have a few lying around at home. Our mom never really held onto sentimental stuff like that.” At the mention of their mom, Evan went stiff. “I managed to rescue a few, though,” Christie continued, not seeming to notice Evan’s reaction.

  “Do you think you could bring some the next time you come over?” I asked.

  “I’ll try,” she said. “Or you could always draw some new ones,” she cajoled her brother. “It’s been a while since you’ve made any of those cute comics.”

  “I’ve got enough work with my freelance illustrations and my job at the bar,” he said. “I don’t have enough time to mess around with stuff like that anymore.”

  Christie looked disappointed. I had to wonder how much those little comics meant to her. She turned back to me.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

  Now it was my turned to stiffen.

  “I have a sister,” I said.

  I didn’t want to talk about myself, and least of all about my sister. I thought about how to redirect Christie’s question, but luckily she did it for me.

  “Sometimes I used to think it would be nice to have a sister,” she said with a teasing look at Evan. “But having a brother was fun, too. He always had tea parties with me, and played dress up, and let me play with his hair.”

  I couldn’t help imagining Evan in a puffy pink princess dress with bows in his short hair, lifting a dainty teacup. I stifled a giggle at the mental picture.

  “And yes, it was as hilarious as you’re thinking it is,” Christie grinned. “We might have some photographic proof of that. I can bring those along with my next visit, too.”

  “Ha ha, very funny.” Evan’s mouth was twisted in a scowl, but I could see the corners of his lips twitching, threatening to curve upwards into a smile.

  A sense of relief washed over me. I hated seeing Evan upset. Seeing that hint of a smile, even if it was only because his sister was teasing him, made me feel much better.

  “What about you, Evan?” I asked hopefully. “Do you have any stories that will embarrass your sister?”

  “I guess.” He didn’t continue, just sat there staring at a spot on the wall.

  The relief I’d felt sunk away, leaving only heartache.

  Christie looked between me and Evan, a furrow appearing between her brows.

  “I could go for another snack,” she said. “I saw you have some cereal in the cupboard, but it’s too high up for me to reach. Evan, can you come help me get it?”

  “Sure,” he said, heaving himself off the sofa.

  Christie flashed me a brief smile before disappearing into the kitchen with her brother.

  “So what’s up with you?” I heard her ask.

  “What do you mean?” Evan asked.

  Again, I tried going back to my book, but their voices echoed throughout the apartment.

  “You told me Alice was your girlfriend, but you’re sure not acting like it,” Christie said. “Are the two of you having a fight or something?”

  “Is that really any of your business?” He didn’t exactly sound mad, but he was certainly vexed that she’d asked.

  “It’s not my business, but since when has that ever stopped me?” she replied. “You’ve been so happy ever since you met Alice. What did you do to screw it up?”

  “Why do you think it was something I did?” he asked, now sounding properly annoyed.

  “Because from what you’ve told me, Alice is the sweetest girl alive,” Christie said. “And from what I’ve seen, you’re right about that. I can’t imagine her doing something to upset you.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Evan said.

  “Look, you’re the one out there looking pissed off and sulky,” Christie said impatiently. “If the two of you are fighting about something, Alice is clearly trying to mend things. You’re the one who’s acting all grumpy.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evan snapped.

  “Maybe not,” Christie said evenly. “But tell me this: Are you enjoying yourself right now? Do you like feeling this way? Are you happy spending the entire day brooding and ignoring her?”

  “No,” Evan muttered.

  “Then get over yourself,” Christie said. “Talk it out. Stop giving her the silent treatment.”

  “You don’t know what she did,” Evan said, as if trying to convince himself.

  “Was it worse than what Dad did to Mom?” Christie said quietly, her voice so low I almost couldn’t hear it.

  Evan didn’t answer.

  “Then it’s obviously not bad enough you can’t work things out,” Christie continued.

  I heard Evan say something under his breath. They continued talking in lower tones, quiet enough that I couldn’t hear. I didn’t know what Christie was telling him, but eventually, Evan raised his voice.

  “I need to go back to my work,” he said.

  “Fine,” Christie said. I could practically hear her pursed lips and rolling eyes.

  She stalked back into the living room and took a textbook out of her schoolbag.

  “You mind if I study in here while you read?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” I said.

  Christie settled back into her armchair with the textbook and a highlighter. A few minutes later, Evan came out of the kitchen with his tablet and stylus. He took his place on the sofa again and started working.

  Three of us sat there, working and reading for the rest of the afternoon.

  Evan didn’t speak to me once.

  24

  That afternoon was one of the most uncomfortable situations I’d ever been in, and I’d been to dinner parties where half the guests were rival businessmen or opposing politicians.

  But despite the awkward silence, I couldn’t help noticing Evan giving me sidelong glances. Mostly, the expression on his face was unreadable, but every so often I thought I caught a contemplative look or a self-conscious twist of his lips.

  Every time I looked up, he ducked back down to his
tablet, obviously not wanting to get caught staring at me.

  Eventually, Christie announced she was hungry, and Evan ordered a pizza for dinner. When it arrived, we put our work away and stayed in the living room to eat.

  “You don’t eat pizza at the kitchen table,” Christie told me, aghast that I’d even mentioned it.

  “You don’t?” I asked.

  “No!” she cried. “What kind of monster sits at a proper table for pizza?”

  Sitting in the living room for dinner wasn’t the only novel thing about this meal.

  “I’ve never had pizza like this before,” I confessed. “It’s so thick and greasy. Look, you can see the oil pooling in the middle of the pepperoni.”

  “I know,” Christie said with a satisfied sigh. “It’s delicious.”

  I took a tentative nibble at the pointed tip, just as I had with the burrito. And just like with that burrito, my eyes went wide and I let out a muffled exclamation.

  I saw Evan suppressing a smile.

  “It’s so good!” I said. “It’s much better than that bruschetta flatbread my parents served us,” I said. “They told us that was pizza, but I was never convinced.”

  “Evan, what have you been feeding this poor girl that she’s never had real pizza before?” Christie shook her head and made a tsk tsk sound.

  “We’ve been eating lots of burritos, at least.” He finally looked my way, the corners of his mouth lifting.

  My heart soared at that tiniest of smiles. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe Evan wouldn’t stay mad at me forever.

  By the time we finished the pizza, it was late. Christie made a big show of yawning and stretching.

  “I’d going to go read in bed,” she said. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”

  She gave Evan a pointed look before heading to the spare room and closing the door firmly.

  The spare room.

  Christie had taken the only other bed in the apartment.

  Evan and I were going to be forced to sleep together in the same bed again.

  He didn’t seem to realize it right away as he starting putting away the empty pizza box and wadding up the used napkins.