“I’ve dated,” I snap. “Just not…recently. Swimming takes up most of my time, and classes, and—”
“Excuses, excuses,” Kade cuts me off, enjoying my discomfort. “You want dating advice from me? From the loser stepbrother?”
“Are you going to help me or not?”
His amusement shifts to calculation, eyes narrowing. “What’s in it for me?”
I’ve expected this. “I’ll do your chores for a week. Dishes, trash, everything.”
Kade considers this, tilting his head. “A month,” he counters. “And you do my laundry, too. We’ll give your mom a break.”
“Two weeks,” I attempt, but the gleam in his eye tells me he knows he has the upper hand.
“A month,” he repeats. “Take it or leave it.”
I weigh my options. A month of extra chores versus the possibility of a relationship with Serena. When viewed that way, it’s not even a contest.
“Fine,” I concede. “A month.”
Kade’s grin widens as he extends his arm. “Deal. Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
As I take his hand and we shake, a cold certainty settles in my gut.
I think I’ve just made a terrible mistake.
2
Kade
I SPRAWL ACROSS THE couch, one leg dangling over the armrest, watching Emmett pace back and forth like a caged animal. Five steps left, pivot, five steps right, pivot. Repeat. His hair is still damp from the shower, and the scent of chlorine from his swimming practice clings to him despite his obvious attempts to scrub it away. Golden Boy is nervous—actually nervous—about taking advice from me. The thought sends a pleasant surge of power through my veins. How the mighty have fallen.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” I say, flicking through my phone without really looking at it. It’s more fun to watch my stepbrother squirm.
Emmett stops, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Are we doing this or not?”
I toss my phone aside and sit up, grinning. “Okay, Lesson One in the Kade School of Getting Laid.” I enjoy the way his jaw tightens at my phrasing. “Ground rules—today is verbal only. No touching.”
His shoulders loosen. “Thank god.”
I smirk. “Did you think I was going to make you practice kissing?”
His green eyes widen in horror. “What? No!”
“Relax, I’m fucking with you.” I stand up and circle him, taking in the standard Emmett uniform—a plain blue t-shirt that’s just tight enough to show off those swimmer shoulders, and khaki shorts that probably cost more than my entire outfit. “Though you could use the practice there too, I bet.”
“Can we get on with it?” His voice has that clipped tone he uses when he’s trying not to lose his shit. It’s the same voice he uses when I leave dishes in the sink or forget to take out the trash.
“Fine.” I stop circling. “Show me what you got. Pretend I’m Serena.” I bat my eyelashes dramatically.
Emmett shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “This is stupid.”
“Month of chores,” I remind him, crossing my arms. “So you better make the most out of it. Now, show me how you flirt, Golden Boy.”
He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders like he’s about to dive into the pool for a race. “Hello, Serena. You look very nice today.” His voice is stiff, formal—like he’s reading from a textbook on How to Human.
I snort. “Jesus Christ. That’s it? ‘You look very nice today’? With that robotic voice? Try again. With feeling this time.”
Emmett clears his throat. “I like that dress. It brings out the color of your eyes.” He delivers this line with all the passion of someone reciting a grocery list.
