Straight Up Read online

  Little sister.

  That’s the furthest from what I want him to see me as.

  “Oh God, never call me your little sister again.” I rub my forehead with the heel of my hand. “That’d mean you’re like my big brother … and no way in hell can I say I’m sexually attracted to my brother.”

  As if with perfect timing, the waitress approaches our table at the same time those words leave my mouth. The way her eyes widen, her jaw drops open, and her gaze pings back and forth between me and Lincoln confirms she heard my little comment. My head spins, and swear to God, I’m tempted to dash out of this place. I might be able to handle looking like a hot mess, but our waitress thinking I want to bang my brother, that’s where I draw the line.

  I cast a quick glance at Lincoln, who doesn’t look fazed by my comment. In fact, he only appears entertained at my awkwardness.

  “Hello,” the waitress chirps, gaining control of her thoughts. She’s my age, and fingers crossed, she realizes it was a sarcastic statement. “I’m Taylor. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

  I quickly peruse the drink menu and order a mimosa while Lincoln asks for an ice water. Taylor scurries off to grab our drinks, and Lincoln’s eyes level on me, humor shining in them.

  “Should we make it clear that I’m not your brother?” he asks with a raised brow.

  “I’m sure that would be more awkward.” My cheeks redden.

  He smirks.

  “All right, here ya go,” Taylor says, dropping off our drinks.

  “Thank you,” I say. At the same time, Lincoln replies with, “My girl here wants to make it clear that I’m not her brother.”

  I freeze, mid–mimosa grab, and want to drown myself with the liquid.

  No, he didn’t.

  Taylor stares at Lincoln. I’m unsure if it’s in captivation or if she’s speechless at what he said. I’m leaning a bit toward captivation, though. When she took our drink orders, she was so flustered that she barely looked him in the eye. Now that she is, she’s realizing she likes what she sees.

  I set my drink down.

  He wants to have some fun? Let’s have some fun.

  I shift my attention to Taylor, and mischief barrels through my belly. “You see, I don’t want him to see me as a little sister, though.”

  Taylor nods, catching my drift, and sweeps her long black hair off her shoulder as her gaze leaves the guy I wish hadn’t just said I was like a sister to him.

  “Ah, I get it now,” Taylor says, her voice no longer timid, her tone now confident. “He’s dumb if he doesn’t see you as more because you’re gorgeous.”

  Yes.

  A girl’s girl.

  I like her.

  Taylor’s gaze nervously slides back to Lincoln. “And if you’re paying the bill, don’t use that against me with my tip, please.”

  Lincoln holds both hands up. “I’ll be tipping you more for your honesty.”

  A rush of relief leaves her. No doubt, she didn’t plan on that little outburst. “Thank you. Now, what can I get you?”

  Our conversation turns more professional as she rattles off the lunch specials. We order, and she shoots me a smile before scurrying away.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” I comment, wrapping my fingers around the stem of my glass.

  “And I can’t believe you did that,” he replies.

  “Touché.” I smile. “You wanted to make things awkward, and I needed to up the ante.”

  “You sure did.” He takes a long gulp of his water. “You working tonight?”

  “Nope.” I moan at the first sip of the sugary mimosa. It’s been a while since I’ve had one. I tend to save them for days I’m nursing massive hangovers or for weddings. “We both have the night off.”

  “How’d you know I have the night off?” He tilts his head to the side and chews on his lower lip.

  “The schedule.”

  He waggles his finger at me. “My little stalker, you.”

  “You love it.”

  “Any big plans tonight?”

  I ignore the chatter around us and focus on Lincoln. “Possibly.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sex.” I lick the rim of my glass in a failed attempt to appear seductive. Yeah, I most likely look like a baby licking a toy. “Lots and lots of sex.”

  Unfortunately, my response doesn’t choke him up as I hoped. Lincoln is hard to rile up, to my surprise, and my humor never shocks him.

  He scoffs, “Bullshit. My money is on you staying home, watching cartoons, and cuddling with a stuffed animal you’ve had since you were two.”

  “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” I crack a smile and tap his hand. “Is that what you were doing at twenty-one, Grandpa Bartender? When did you finally break up with your baby blanket?”

  He chuckles. “Nah, you got it all wrong, babe.”

  “I bet it was Ninja Turtles … am I right?”

  He stays quiet, fighting back a grin.

  “Oh my God!” I cover my mouth to hold in a shriek of laughter. “I’m so right.”

  “Wrong.” He plucks an ice cube from his water and flicks it at me. “My baby blanket—which I haven’t used in years, thank you—was Mickey Mouse.”

  I thrum my fingers along the edge of the table, engrossed in this conversation like it’s a revelation as deep as how the world will end. “Do you still have it?”

  He swipes his palm over his chin. “My mom probably does.”

  “Ask her because I’d love to give it to our kiddos when the time comes.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Marry me. Knock me up. Whatever you’d like.” I chug my mimosa and motion toward him with it. “But not anal. I don’t do anal, prewarning.”

  Call Taylor the CEO of poor timing because it’s at anal when she returns with our plates.

  “Uh …” she mutters, searching for the right words before quickly placing our plates in front of us.

  This time, Lincoln is the one covering his mouth to contain his laughter.

  Chapter Nine

  Lincoln

  Damn, does it feel good, having the night off.

  As much as I love the mental interruption the bar provides, a break is nice. A grip of disappointment squeezes at my core, though. I’m home alone with no plans and no one to make plans with. Archer is working, and my bet is, he’ll go to Georgia’s when he gets off.

  Before my life fell apart, I had friends.

  By the dozens.

  Friends I partied with, traveled with, acted like spoiled rich kids with.

  Fake-ass friends—most of them dropping me like flies when news broke.

  A few were at my side during litigation, but after I was locked up, they were ghosts. No letters. No visits. No calls.

  After my release, my mother threw me a welcome home party. Some of those friends came. I said my hellos, but just as they’d done to me, I wanted nothing to do with them. Hell, I hardly want anything to do with the old life I once had.

  Loyalty—it’s a big damn deal to me.

  If you’re not loyal, if I can’t trust you, then there’s the fucking door.

  I’ve kept my mouth shut to remain loyal.

  Got time for staying loyal.

  If I say I have your back, I have your back.

  I’m channel-surfing when my phone rings.

  Cassidy.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Hi, handsome,” she says, her voice casual as if this were a daily occurrence for us. “Whatcha doing?”

  I scratch my neck, savoring the sound of her voice. It flows like an expensive ink, and I could soak up every drop. Cassidy’s voice doesn’t match her appearance, doesn’t match your typical sorority girl.

  “Not much,” I reply. “Just chilling.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Why?”

  She’s so nosy, and for some damn reason, I love it.

  “Answer the
question, Mr. Complicated.”

  “Yes”—I chuckle—“I’m alone.”

  “That’s my good future husband.”

  The call ends.

  The fuck?

  Pulling the phone away, I stare at it in confusion. Just as I’m about to call her back to see if we lost connection, a FaceTime call comes through.

  Cassidy.

  I accept the call, and a zoomed-in Cassidy pops up on my screen—her face makeup-free, her blond hair swept back into a messy bun with stray pieces hanging loose around her eyes, and a knotted tie-dye headband pushed at the top.

  “What movie do you want to watch?” When she shifts to make herself comfortable, her upholstered headboard comes into view.

  I raise a brow. “Huh?”

  “What’s tonight’s movie of choice?” She adjusts the collar on her silk pink-and-white striped pajama top. “Do you have Netflix?”

  “Yes.” I stare at her, blinking.

  “Coolio.” She leans forward, positions the phone so she’s hands-free but still in view, and grabs her remote. “What are you in the mood for? Action? Comedy?” She glances away from the TV and shoots me an amused smile. “Me personally? Romance is the name of my game.”

  “Babe,” I breathe out, “you need to clue me in here.”

  She plays with the remote in her hand. “Both of us are home, solo. Might as well watch a movie … hang out.”

  “Hmm … from what I remember, you said you’d be having lots and lots of sex tonight.”

  Nausea permeates in my stomach at her sleeping with a random guy who doesn’t deserve her. That nausea morphs into satisfaction that she’s not with a guy tonight.

  No, she’s with me.

  Virtually.

  But I’ll take it.

  I’ll take any extra time I can have with her.

  She scoffs, “You’re dumber than I thought if you believed that.”

  I knew she was fucking with me.

  The thing is, I love fucking with her right back.

  “You have six seconds to decide before I take matters into my own hands,” she says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “And trust me, it’ll either be a serial killer doc, a cheesy romance, or some tiger people’s drama.”

  I kick my bare feet up on the concrete coffee table. “You plan to come over?”

  She shakes her head. “We’re watching a movie via FaceTime.”

  There’s no, Do you want to?

  Cassidy—my new bossy best-friend-slash-coworker—has no problem telling me what my plans are for the night.

  “Ah, is this what the cool kids do these days?” Observing my surroundings, I search for the perfect phone stand and decide on a leather pillow. Snagging the pillow, I settle it on the coffee table and balance the phone against it—a setup similar to Cassidy’s.

  “Nope. We typically Netflix and chill. Netflix and chill is when—”

  Not wanting to hear about her Netflix-and-chilling with anyone, I talk over her, “I know what Netflix and chill is. I’m not that old. You pick the movie. I’m down for whatever.”

  “Let me grab my movie snacks.”

  Movie snacks?

  “I wish you had given your boy a warning, so I could’ve grabbed some movie snacks.”

  “Joke’s on you. Everyone should have movie snacks on hand at all times. Next time you go to the store, I’m tagging along to make sure you’re loaded with the good stuff.” Blowing me a kiss, she jumps off the bed, providing a short glimpse of her in her short pajama shorts, and disappears from the camera’s view.

  I train my eyes on the screen, not wanting to miss a second of our conversation. Minutes later, she returns with a bowl of popcorn, movie-theater snack boxes, and a Coke. My mouth waters, practically tasting the buttery popcorn.

  She darts a quick glance in my direction, as if double-checking I’m still with her, and settles her snacks onto the bed. Sliding back onto the bed, she fluffs out a pillow and makes herself comfortable.

  “Want a virtual kernel?” She holds the bowl toward the phone.

  “Funny.” My stomach grumbles like a chain saw. “You’re making me hungry.”

  “Be better prepared in the future.” She pops a kernel in her mouth and shoots me a sly grin.

  I frown in disapproval. “Give me a heads-up next time.”

  “I love that you’re agreeing this will happen again.” She winks before tearing open a box of Junior Mints and tossing one into her mouth.

  “Pause and let me see what I can wrangle from the kitchen.” I drop my feet and groan as I stand.

  “Wrangle? What are you, a cowboy going to hunt for his next meal?”

  I flip her off before heading into the kitchen in search of snacks. Since Archer and I prefer takeout to cooking, I don’t get my hopes up on matching Cassidy’s snack game. Rummaging through the cabinet and fridge, I return to the living room with a bag of pretzels, a beer, and a box of Thin Mints.

  How the living hell my brother managed to have Girl Scout cookies is beyond me.

  I plop down on the couch at the same time I rip open the pretzels. “Choose our movie.”

  She nods, chewing the popcorn in her mouth, and rattles off some romance movie title.

  Suppressing a groan, I type it into the search bar. “Got it.”

  “All right,” she says, simulating a game show host’s voice, “one, two, three, hit start.”

  We hit the button on our remotes at the same time, and the movie starts. Instead of watching the movie, I stare at Cassidy—all creeper-style but also justifying it as this is what she wanted. I soak up her surroundings, of the small area I can see of her bedroom.

  “It sucks you’re over there,” Cassidy says, sliding the popcorn bowl onto her nightstand before tugging a white blanket up her chest. “We could snuggle.” She snuggles into the blanket, into the bed, the same way I’d want to with her.

  It does suck that we can’t.

  It’s also good for us that we can’t.

  My heart quickens at the thought of her in my arms, but instead of agreeing, I say, “Eh, I don’t know. I’m putting my money on you not only being a bed hog but also a snorer.”

  I joke.

  It’s in my nature.

  My defense mechanism without sounding defensive.

  Humor is what steers me away from conversations, from honesty I’m too scared to admit.

  She wiggles her finger in a come-hither motion. “Come and see for yourself then.”

  I repeatedly shake my head. “Trouble, trouble, trouble.”

  Our attention returns to the movie, and every so often, one of us will comment about it. Mostly Cassidy, who has no problem telling movie characters they’re being stupid. Even though romance movies aren’t typically my jam, it’s not terrible.

  After a long spread of no Cassidy comments, I glance over to find her sleeping. Her mouth is somewhat open, her chest dropping in and out slowly, and the box of Junior Mints is gripped in her hand. I hesitate, unsure of what to do, but decide to keep watching the movie.

  If she wakes up, she’ll know I didn’t bail on her.

  She’s still crashed out when the movie ends.

  Whispering, “Good night,” and hoping the mints don’t spill all over her bed, I hang up.

  And just like that, I had my first virtual … date … hangout … with Cassidy.

  “I’m throwing Archer a surprise birthday party,” Georgia announces while walking into the bar.

  Georgia and I have gotten along since day one. She and Archer … well, Archer was in the midst of denying his feelings for Georgia then. She flirted with me, resulting in my brother wanting to kill me. I knew he liked her, so I told her to keep doing it until he got his head out of his ass. When our father died, I called Georgia to be there with Archer. She was who he needed.

  Even in the small amount of time we’ve known each other, I can depend on Georgia.

  I respect Georgia.

  I hope to God my brother never fucks up the good th
ing he has.

  I snort. “Yeah, he won’t be happy about that.”

  “Yes, he will,” she answers with certainty as if there’d never been a truer fact.

  Archer and surprise parties go together like the Pope and a strip club. My brother would probably choose to have his balls tugged off than attend a party solely for himself. Although, now that Georgia is in the picture, he’s changing. The dude is becoming more of a social man. And given the hell he put Georgia through when he was working through his issues, he’s nearly bowing down to her.

  He won’t love the surprise party, but he’ll enjoy it for the sake of his relationship.

  He’ll enjoy it because his girlfriend threw it for him.

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “You and my brother being total opposites yet also obsessed with each other would confuse the smartest dude on the planet.”

  “Opposites attract.” She taps her finger against the side of her mouth. “Sometimes.”

  I cock my head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Sometimes, cut from the same cloth attracts each other too.” She offers me a bemused smile. “Like you and Cassidy.”

  It’s a struggle, hiding my bullshit. “There’s no me and Cassidy unless you’re referring to our friendship.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Sarcasm covers her tone. “Anyway, I’ll give you time to come to terms with your liking her. Your grandparents offered the lake house for our little soiree. So, it’ll be an overnight thing. Be there, or I’m shaving your head next time I sleep over.”

  A sinking feeling sets in my stomach. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  Concern etches along her face. “Do you not think so?”

  Archer doesn’t mind the lake house.

  He goes there all the time to clear his head.

  Me? That’s who I’m worried about.

  There are too many memories there.

  Regret rushes into me like a scorned ex as I remember what took place there.

  But like I tell my brother, you have to face your shit, not run away from it.

  “Nah, it’s cool.” I gulp. “He’d rather have it there than at some club.”

  The worry on her face dissolves, and she claps her hands before releasing a squeal. “I invited the crew, and hopefully, everyone can come.”