“Jesus. We should’ve just brought regular cake?—”
“You said to get her an ice cream cake?—”
“I said to get ice cream AND cake, not?—”
“AUDREY!”
“COMING!” I yell, then wince at my word choice. Logan snorts despite the chaos.
“Technically, neither of us is,” he mutters, and I throw a pillow at his head.
“Put pants on. Now. Please.”
He’s already moving, grabbing his jeans from the floor. “OK. But don’t think I didn’t notice you evading those questions.”
“You’ll have to accept it for now. My family is here.” I pull a clean pair of panties from my drawer and shove my feet into them. “And you’re about to meet them.”
“While I have an erection,” he mutters, buttoning up his jeans over the obvious physical evidence.
“Think unsexy thoughts!”
“You’re standing there in nothing but a pair of panties and my T-shirt. There are no unsexy thoughts available.”
I grab a pair of leggings from my dresser and yank those on too.
“Audrey, I swear to God, if you don’t open this door?—”
I sprint to the front door and yank it open just as my brother Mike is winding up for another assault.
“Hi!” I say brightly, slightly out of breath. “What a surprise!”
My father stands in the hallway holding an ice cream cake that’s already starting to list to one side. Behind him, my three brothers—Mike, Tony, and Chris—are carrying gift bags and wearing matching shit-eating grins.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Dad leans in to kiss my cheek, then pauses, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you out of breath?”
“Yoga. Morning yoga. Very vigorous.”
“Since when do you do yoga?” Chris asks.
“Since now. New hobby. Very Zen.” I step back to let them in, praying Logan has managed to make himself presentable. “You guys didn’t have to come all the way here?—”
“Of course we did,” Tony says, already pushing past me. “It’s your birthday. We always do breakfast on your birthday. You think just because you keep telling us you’re too busy with work that we’re gonna?—”
He stops dead in the middle of my living room.
Because Logan is standing there in jeans and nothing else, his arms crossed awkwardly over his chest like he’s trying to hide his nipples for the sake of modesty. His hair is a disaster, his glasses slightly fogged up, and he’s got a deer-in-headlights expression that would be funny if I weren’t equally mortified.
“Oh,” Tony says. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Logan doesn’t uncross his arms, which only makes him look more ridiculous. “I’m Logan.”
“We know who you are.” Mike shoulders past Tony, looking Logan up and down with the assessing gaze of an older brother who’s done this before. “You’re the tech nerd who’s been dating our sister.”
“That’s... an accurate description, yes.”
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
Logan’s eyes dart to me. Then, slowly, he points while somehow still covering his chest.
