“It’s not a fixation,” I said tightly. “He took out an ad that my truck was for sale. I’ve been getting calls all day. This is just payback.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. And what did you do before that?”
“Uh, well…” I shrugged, squirming under her stare. “Who can remember, really? He started it.”
“You sound like a freaking toddler.”
I huffed and crossed my arms. “He did.”
She shook her head. “I should tell Mom.”
All my childhood panic reared its head. “No, don’t! You know I can’t take it when Mom’s disappointed in me.”
“I know,” Wendy said, a smug smile playing at her lips. “You always play the sweet boy for them. If they only knew…”
“Wendyyyyy!”
She cackled. “Fine, but you’re coming over and helping Neil stain the deck next weekend.”
“Fine. Done.”
Not like I wouldn’t have done that, anyway. Neil always paid me in free pizza and beer.
She wagged a finger at me. “Start behaving, though, or I’ll have to tattle. It’s my job to make sure my little brother isn’t a bully.”
“I’m not a bully,” I said, a little more sulk in my tone than I liked.
She smirked. “Only because Maverick knows how to fight back. He really advertised yourtruck for sale?”
“For way too little money, and every gullible asshole out there is calling about it.”
She grinned. “That’s too good.”
Leave it to my sister to appreciate Maverick’s handiwork. Well, that was fine.
I clicked the submit button.
My retaliation would be fucking sweet.
“Okay, meat’s done!” Dad called.
I tucked away my phone and went to grab a plate. Despite my mom’s fussing, Dad had grilled the burgers and dogs to perfection—or close enough for my tastes. I liked my hotdogs a little smoky, and I was starved after a long day working, so I wolfed down three, obliging Mom with a few carrots off her veggie tray, then topping it all off with a huge helping of apple pie.
Damn, life was good sometimes.
I whistled a jaunty tune as I drove home.
Good food—and a damn good prank retaliation—could do that for a man. The only thing that would be better was seeing Maverick’s expression when the shit hit the fan.
His car was the one centered in the driveway this time, but I just squeezed my truck in beside his car, parking close enough he’d have to crawl in through the passenger side. I was on my side of the grass, but I wasn’t fussy about that.
His front door flew open as I got out. He’d been watching for me to arrive, of course.
“You call that a parking job?” he asked.
I sauntered up the steps, taking in his form, backlit by the living room lights. He wore clingy little yoga pants and a tank top. His skin was glistening with sweat, as if maybe he’d been in the middle of a workout. I briefly wondered what kind of exercise he engaged in. Probably some sort of dance or step aerobics. He had the body for it, long and sleek.
“You’re lucky I didn’t ram that little car of yours after the shit you pulled today.”
