Prologue
Steele Harrison
“I’m sorry, I’m not being a third wheel. Steele?”
I had my head hung over office tile, scrubbing as if I needed to sterilize the place of bloodstains. When I heard Elizabeth Rogers say my name, I froze.
Elizabeth. Fucking. Rogers.
The sister of my ex-girlfriend. She wanted me to be her…plus one to this brunch? Was she that fucking crazy?
I looked up at her. She had her sister’s fierce brown eyes and flowing brown hair, but otherwise, the two had distinct appearances. Tara had the long, slender look; Elizabeth had the curvy hourglass figure that was both thick and didn’t carry a ton of fat on it. Tara was combative and snarky, but in a controlled and funny way. Elizabeth was easily disgusted, visibly emotional, and unafraid to speak her thoughts—or, if I were a smidge generous, unfiltered.
But did she really fucking think I was going to go to a group meal involving her and the girl I was once sure I would marry?
“You three have fun,” I said, going back down to scrubbing the tile floor beneath me.
It was nice to have Elizabeth’s personality as the reason for not coming. I preferred that no one else guess the real reason.
“Ugh,” Elizabeth said as if she were a teenager who had gotten a green car instead of a yellow one for her Super Sixteenth birthday. That wasn’t totally fair, but who gave a fuck? I had the right to not think fairly or clearly around the Rogers girls.
I heard Brock and Tara exchanging tiny little pleasantries with each other and a kiss, but I just kept my head focused on the tile underneath me and how hard I could press my sponge into it. A second later, Tara walked away, and Brock stood over me.
“So…?”
“No way, never,” I said, knowing exactly what Brock was about to ask me.
“You’re really not going to come to lunch with your ex and her sister,” Brock said dryly.
I chuckled, a laugh meant to deride the very idea.
“Brock, I’m sorry I beat your ass—and you know I won that fight—but if you think I’m going out to that lunch with you and those girls, you’re out of your damn mind.”
“First, I would have won that fight if Tara hadn’t gotten between us.”
I cocked an eyebrow at Brock. He was my best friend, but he wasn’t my wisest friend. He also probably overestimated how much I’d moved on from everything.
I’d put my personal feelings aside for the sake of all of us, but two weeks was enough time only for me not to hate his guts whenever I saw him.
“Second, I’m just giving you shit. I only say it because Elizabeth thought it was a good idea.”
“Jesus Christ, can you imagine?” I said. “Me with another Rogers. I’ve learned my lesson.”
No matter how good they may seem at first, they always withdraw and break up.
“She’s not that bad. A bit of a prude, but not the worst woman in the world.”
I scoffed at that. I didn’t even want to consider Elizabeth being anything other than a snobbish prude. It would have given weight to something that didn’t deserve any.
“Well, tell you what: I’ll put you in charge of this clean-up,” Brock said. “I’ll come back in twenty, but until then, you’ve got it, OK?”
Mercifully, Brock headed straight back to his bike, hopped on, and drove off, with Tara and Elizabeth trailing right behind him.At least I have twenty minutes without that staring me in the face.
“All right, guys, let’s get this shit done before Brock returns,” I said. “I’ve got other shit I need to take care of, and I’m sure all of us do too.”
“In twenty minutes,” Mason said dryly. “Is this your first time cleaning up a scene like this?”
“Making this place presentable is not a quick and easy job,” Connor said.
