“You can just say you hate it.” I take a drink. “I’m immune.”
“To personal style? Yes. Yes, you are.”
When I pull out a stool, the sound echoes around the house. “I liked it at the time.”
“You liked your real estate agent a whole lot better.”
I flip him off with more feeling. He responds with an easy laugh.
“Is this where you and the future Mrs. Luck will reside?”
“Cut it out.” The response lacks heat.
Jan grins like an evil bastard. “Maybe she can put some life into the place. Add a few throw pillows.”
“Sexist ass.” I drink my smoothie, peanut butter and bananawith flax seed. It’s a new recipe I’m testing. Pretty good, all in all. Next time, I’ll add more honey. “Besides, Mom already tried that. Didn’t help.”
“Damn.”
We sit in relative silence, one arm resting on the counter, drinks in the other hand. Our movements are eerily in sync. The press often remarks on how alike the Luck brothers are in both looks and talent. Trade one for the other, it’s all good. They know nothing.
“It’s a lie.”
Jan sets down his glass at my quiet confession. “That Mom decorated?”
The lightness of his tone tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about and has decided to give me a chance to regroup. I run a hand over my head and sigh.
“The engagement with Penelope. Hell, the whole relationship. I made it up in an effort to look respectable in the face of my recent bad behavior.”
“I figured.”
At that, I turn his way. “It’s not that big of a stretch.”
The corner of his mouth curls wryly. “You move fast when you want to, little brother. But not that fast. Besides, Pen is Pen. It’s not likely she’d up and get engaged in the space of a week.”
Well, sure. But he doesn’t have to look at me with amused pity.
“Please. For all you know, we might have been keeping our love a secret. Oh, fine. Fuck it. Of course she wouldn’t.” My shoulders hunch as I glare down into my glass. “She thought it was a crazy plan.”
“Pen’s very sensible.”
I grunt in agreement.
“You’re usually sensible too,” he adds magnanimously.
I give him the stink eye.
He grins wide. “Well, you used to be.”
Family. I swear to God . . .
Around us the house is still and cool. And dark. I haven’t turned on any lights except for the kitchen. The reflection of us wavers in the thin glass partition wall that separates the kitchen from the great room. To look at us, you’d think we hadn’t a care in the world.
“So you lied.” Jan’s tone is thoughtful. “The question is, do you want it to be true?”
I jolt, my head jerking up. January half turns in his seat to face me. His expression is stern; the Luck eyes like glacial ice. A dozen answers spin around my head. But he narrows his gaze, cutting ahead of the bullshit.
“This is me you’re talking to, August. I’m asking you straight. Do you want it to be true?”
