by Emma Hart
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to tell him I didn’t actually have it. “I’m vindictive, not crazy.”
“You say that like it’s an upgrade.”
“Sure it is. I won’t key your car or smash your windows with a brick, but I will make sure everyone knows you and your three-inch dick can only get off to the gay porn I found in your internet history.”
“There is no gay porn in my internet history.”
“Yet.”
“You’re a little scary, do you know that?”
I grinned, lifting my wine glass to my mouth. “Just reminding you of what I’m capable of if you ever, ever move my fucking candles again.”
He raised two fingers to his temple and saluted me. “Your obsession with those candles is weird.”
“I told you; I like them just so. They’re symmetrical. I like symmetry.”
“Well, that explains the cutlery drawer.”
I opened the oven again and side-eyed him. “There’s nothing wrong with an orderly cutlery drawer.”
“Do you have OCD?”
“What? Because I like things a certain way?” I set a three-minute timer on the oven and faced him. “No. OCD is way too overused for people who just like things a certain way. I can enjoy organization and order without having a genuine disorder that shouldn’t be thrown about as trivially as it is these days. Yes, I thrive on things being in the places they’re supposed to be in, and I like to make sure everything has its place, but that’s all it is.”
“All right, Dr. Phil. Calm down.”
“Watch yourself, or I’ll find you a place six feet under.”
“Your death threats are getting more and more frequent.”
“And they only happen after you say something stupid. Isn’t it funny how that works?”
“Living with you is a pleasure I didn’t know I needed to experience in my life, Ava.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. Living with you is the nightmare I normally wake up from.”
The oven timer beeped, and I jabbed the button to make it stop, then turned off the oven. I grabbed the oven mitts and removed the dish, setting it on top of the wooden cutting board.
Ethan got up and set two plates down on the counter, and I thanked him with a smile before I put two enchiladas on each plate.
“Only two?”
I peered over at him. “You want another?”
“Another two,” he replied. “There are four in there. Unless anyone else is coming for dinner…”
“I told you when I texted you that I always make too much food.” I put two more enchiladas on his plate. “Are you really going to eat four?”
“Are you really going to eat only two?”
“Look, taking another one into my bedroom to eat at eleven-thirty in bed is my prerogative, and I’d like you to keep your judging to yourself.” I poked my tongue out at him and took my plate over to the sofa. I grabbed hold of the remote and pointed it at the TV.
“Whoa, whoa, what are we watching?” He sat on the floor in front of the sofa and put his plate on the coffee table. “I’m not watching some girly shit.”
“I’m not watching sports,” I retorted. “I was going to turn on Netflix.”
“Yeah, but for what?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t turned it on yet.”
“Well, get on with it.”
I kicked him. “Tell me what to do again and see where that gets you.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I kicked him again. You know. Because I could.
I turned on Netflix and selected my profile. “I see you wasted no time in setting up your own profile.”
“Nope. I took one look at your girly shit and bounced right out of your profile,” Ethan said around a mouthful of food. “Damn, this is good.”
“Thank you. For both the compliment and not sullying my profile with your bullshit shows.” I scrolled to the section that had the shows I’d added to my list and rolled through them. I paused at Forensic Files where I was halfway through season six.
“What’s that?” Ethan asked.
“What it says on the screen,” I replied. “It’s murder cases.”
“Not girly shit?”
“Does it look like it’s fucking Mean Girls?”
“No, but you do.”
“I wish I’d poisoned your guacamole,” I muttered, starting the show.
He peered over and grinned, his cheeks puffed out like hamster cheeks with the food he still had shoved in his mouth.
The man was attractive as fuck, but this was not a look he wanted on a dating site.
Or anywhere.
Hell, I didn’t want it in my living room.
“Don’t do that,” I said, stabbing my enchilada with a fork. “It’s not a good look for you.”
He sighed. “Always crushing my dreams.”
“You have no idea.”
***
I mixed the cherry yogurt into the berry granola in my bowl, splattering yogurt everywhere. Honestly, it was no wonder I was single—the counter looked as though I’d given a six-month-old baby a spoon and asked them to feed a goldfish.
A dead goldfish.
I grabbed a cloth to clean up my mess and yawned. It was Sunday, which meant there’d be football games back to back all day long. From the early afternoon, at least. But it also meant I’d be in work early since yesterday was my day off—not that it’d mattered to Reagan, but she paid more per hour than Lucky’s, so…
I digress.
I just wanted Ethan to wake up before I went to work. I wanted to see the results of my sugar-salt switch for myself. I’d video it, but I didn’t want to tip him off that I was up to something.
I was fully aware that I was potentially starting a war here.
The problem was, I didn’t care. Not a damn bit. I knew he’d retaliate one way or another and that it would be worse than just nudging my candles.
Switching salt for sugar was pretty savage, after all.
Especially since we had no sugar left, so he’d have to go out to get coffee.
Poor baby.
A door opened from down the hall, and I cradled my bowl against my chest as I ate. Ethan stepped into view, his hand covering his mouth as he yawned. His dark-blonde hair was a mess, sticking up at all angles, and he was wearing nothing but a faded pair of sweat shorts.
It was annoying. I didn’t need to perv on him while I ate my breakfast. Biceps and a six-pack weren’t appropriate morning viewing, thank you very much.
He reached his hand down his shorts and scratched his balls.
I cleared my throat.
He jerked around, bashing his elbow on the fridge. “Shit.” He rubbed at it.
“Good morning,” I replied.
“Good morning.” He hit the button on the coffee machine to turn it on.
“You appear to have lost your t-shirt.”
“And your nipples appear to be trying to break out of yours.”
I adjusted so they were covered by my arms. Kinda. “Why are you looking at my boobs?”
“Why are you looking at my chest?”
“I can hardly miss it.”
“There you go, then.” He pulled a mug down from the cupboard, completely unbothered, and put it under the spout and set the coffee to pour.
It was happening.
I dropped my gaze to my bowl and shoveled a huge spoonful into my mouth. It was too much, and I had to spit some out into the trash so I didn’t choke to death.
Discretion was not one of my great abilities, and a poker face was not something I possessed.
Ethan side-eyed me, giving me a look that said he was wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
It’d been asked many times.
I still didn’t know the answer.
Ethan spooned sugar into his mug three times, added the cream, and stirred. He left the creamer on the side as he lifted the mug and took two huge mouthfuls.
He coughed immediately, throwing the full mug into the
sink where it clattered against the stainless steel and hot coffee splashed all over the tiles.
I put down my bowl. “What’s wrong?”
The look he gave me was murderous. “Did you switch out the fucking sugar for salt?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied, picking up my water to take a drink.
He snatched the bottle from me before I had a chance and glugged down half the water. He slammed it onto the counter and stuck his tongue out, disgust etching into his expression.
With a shudder, he stormed off toward the bathroom, and the tap in there roared to life.
I laughed silently into my hand. Oh, man, this was so worth whatever was coming my way as revenge.
Famous last words, probably, but whatever.
“Fucking salt,” Ethan said from the bathroom. “Fucking Ava.”
I pressed both hands over my mouth to hide my laughter.
Yep. He was pissed.
He stomped back into the kitchen, eyes narrowed. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Generally, no,” I replied, dropping my hands. “But right now? Absolutely. This is the best morning I’ve had in a long time.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at the ceiling. Then, slowly, he walked over to me and stopped just inches in front of me. He was still shirtless, and I swore I could feel the anger just emanating off him.
“Ava,” he said in a low voice. “You just started a battle you can’t win.”
Jerking my chin up in defiance, I met his burning, blue gaze. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
He held eye contact for the longest moment before he finally said, “We’ll see about that.”
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
AVA
Sibling Rivalries
“You actually put salt in the sugar jar?” Reagan raised her voice to be heard over the sound of the entire bar roaring with delight as the Panthers scored a touchdown.
I winced at the noise and waited until they’d stopped hollering like Neanderthals to respond. “Yep. Apparently, we’re now at war.”
Halley wrinkled her nose. “What are you going to do next? That’s a pretty savage move. I don’t know how else you can really get at him.”
“You still have the ballsac card, right?” Reagan asked, dipping her fries in ketchup. We were tucked away in the corner of the bar while I was on my break, and since it was five-thirty, we’d all decided on a slightly early dinner.
“I do,” I said, putting down my burger and wiping my mouth. I swallowed and continued, “But that’s only for use with the hedgehog. Otherwise, I need to come up with some ideas and fast.”
“Steal the insoles from all his shoes while he sleeps,” she said immediately.
Halley nodded. “You can also go through the cookies and take one bite out of every single one. Works on just about anything.”
“Have you done that?” I asked, grinning.
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “It’s the last time Preston touches my candy.”
Reagan smirked.
I pulled my glasses off and used the bottom of my shirt to clean the lens. “All right, so that’s two, but I really need more than just that. I get the feeling this is going to be painful for me. I need to return that in spades.”
My friends both nodded. We ate in silence for a few minutes before Reagan clapped her hands.
“Switch the toothpaste out for shaving cream.”
I screwed up my face. “I think he’ll notice that, though. The texture is completely different.”
Halley nodded. “That’s a basic one. He’ll be looking for that. You need something more discreet.”
“Take all the batteries so he can’t use anything?” Reagan suggested.
I shook my head. “Far too risky that he’ll retaliate in the same way. I don’t think he knows about the vibrator yet, but I don’t want to risk it.”
Halley shook her head, her blonde bob brushing against her cheeks. “File it away anyway. It’s a last-resort kind of passive-aggressive attack.”
Reagan nodded. “So there’s stealing insoles, biting one of every of his favorite snack, and maybe stealing all the batteries. You could also hide all his charge cords.”
“What if they have the same cord?” Halley asked.
“I don’t think we do,” I replied. “His phone is newer than mine. I think the adaptor is different.”
“Okay, so there’s also that. That should get you through the week. He’s not going to retaliate right away.” Reagan picked up her Pepsi and sipped. “He’s going to lull you into a false sense of security and attack.”
“I did used to do this with Leo.”
“Yeah, but that’s the problem. He’s got your brother on his side. He’s going to know all your tricks by the end of the day. Unless you call Angelica…”
I paused. I hadn’t thought about calling Ethan’s sister. We didn’t speak that much, but I knew she’d gotten married last year and was about to have a baby. She was always nice when I saw her in passing, and as someone’s sister myself, I knew how satisfying it was to piss off your brother…
“I don’t have her number, and I’m pretty sure she’s on maternity leave,” I said. “Either of you have any ideas?”
Halley shook her head.
Reagan pulled her straw from her glass and sucked air through it, making a bubbling noise. She tapped the end against her lips. “Doesn’t her husband come in here every week? I’m pretty sure Noah said something about them seeing him here on Friday.”
“That doesn’t help me. It’s Sunday.”
“No, I think he comes in to watch the games. He’s from New York so he’s a Jets fan, but he also watches the Panthers. He’s probably here right now.”
“Isn’t Angelica literally about to give birth?” Halley raised an eyebrow. “I’d castrate your brother if he left me to watch football and I was going to have a baby.”
“Have you discussed impregnating yourself with the lesser strain of the Wright family DNA?” Reagan responded with an eyebrow-raise of her own.
The look my blonde best friend shot at my purple-haired one was withering. “Not at this time, no. I think the raccoons are enough questionable DNA, thank you.”
One day, we’d all stay on track of a conversation.
“Okay. I’ve never met her husband, so… Anyone?” I asked, drawing the conversation back to the point at hand. “Can you see him?”
They both craned their necks and looked around the bar until Reagan squeaked. “He’s by the bar.”
“Which one is he?” I sat up to see.
“The guy with the dark hair, black t-shirt, laughing right now?”
I had him. “I got him. Okay, I’m gonna go get her number.”
“You’re just gonna walk right up to him?” Halley’s eyes widened.
“Yeah. I’m not a magician. I can’t just pluck her number from his cell phone. Plus, I have to get back to work.” I smiled and stood up, waving goodbye to them.
I made my way through the people and back to the bar right before the husband disappeared and I lost him for the night.
“Excuse me!” I called, reaching for him.
He turned, two beers in each hand. His eyes flitted across my face before recognition shone in his gaze. “Hey—you’re Ava, right? You live with Ethan.”
“He lives with me,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
He laughed.
“Sorry.” I grimaced. “It’s automatic. Yeah, I’m Ava. You’re Angelica’s husband, right?”
He nodded. “Shane. I’d shake your hand, but…” He held up the bottles.
“Don’t worry. I was wondering—could I get her number?”
Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “Why do you need her number?”
“Because Ethan and I appear to be in some kind of passive-aggressive roommate war, and I want to win.”
He hesitated for all of a second before he b
urst out laughing. “I can’t say that’s what I was expecting you to say, but it’s probably the best thing she’ll hear all week.”
I grinned. “So you don’t mind?”
“I can’t give you her number, but why don’t you give me yours? I’ll give it to her later and tell her to text you.”
“That would be awesome! I’m behind the bar, and it looks like this quarter is starting, so do you just wanna come get it at some point? I’m here until eight.”
He glanced up at the screen above the bar. “Let me put these on the table, and I’ll write it down for you. I’m gonna forget otherwise.” He returned the smile and turned, disappearing into the crowd.
I tucked myself back behind the bar and served a customer. It looked as if everyone was trying to get drinks before the game restarted, and I had to clear five people before I could slip to the end of the bar to where Shane was waiting.
I held up two fingers and turned to the register where I pressed a button to make some of the receipt paper come out. Grabbing a pen, I wrote down my name and number and handed it to Shane.
“Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
He grinned. “Not as much as she will. I swear she lives to piss him off.”
“Ethan’s best friend is my brother. I feel that.”
“Ah, shit. Leo. That’s why you looked familiar to me.” He paused when I wrinkled my face. “But you definitely got the better genes.”
I laughed. “Nice save. I’ll put in a good word with Angelica.”
“Always appreciated.” He winked, then held up the piece of paper. “I’ll give it to her when I get home.”
“Thanks. I have to get back to work. Let me know if you all need anything.”
***
Shane did as he’d promised because I managed to slip out of the apartment the next day before Ethan had gotten out of the shower.
Angelica had insisted we meet for breakfast. I was a little apprehensive, but she’d sent entirely too many laughing face emojis for me to be too nervous. I got the impression she was bored with maternity leave and needed something to amuse her, and if pissing off Ethan was that thing…
Well, who was I to deny a pregnant lady some enjoyment?