Maybe I should have put on pants.
A heavy set of footsteps clomped down the hall. “Dude, we’re going to have to come up with some kind of schedule.”
Nero planted himself in one of the stools on the other side of the kitchen island. He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“I never want to hear those sounds coming out of my sister’s bedroom again. There are some things a brother doesn’t need to know.”
I did my best to bite back a smile. “Sorry, man.”
His eyes narrowed on my boxer briefs. “I might believe you more if you were wearing pants.”
“Would a couple of pancakes and sausage sway you?” I slid a plate in front of him before he could respond.
“You trying to bribe me for my approval?”
“No.” I leveled him with a serious stare. “Your sister’s a grown woman who makes her own decisions. I’m just a nice guy who cooks one hell of a breakfast.”
He considered my words for about two seconds before answering, “Good,” and tearing into his plate of pancakes.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, savoring our food and taking in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window. Other than our late-night pizza break, this was my first timereallyseeing the house, beyond Nessa’s bedroom.
I had heard something once about dog owners matching their pets—a theory I knew to be true based solely on the uncanny similarities between Matty and Eenie—but I wondered if the same could be said for houses.
The cozy Craftsman was the perfect embodiment of everything I loved about Nessa. A bright peach front door offset the fireplace’s dark bricks and forest-green walls throughout the first floor. The stainless-steel appliances were a clear indication that the kitchen had been updated at some point, but the original moldings and windows were a fun nod to the age of the house.
It's probably a bitch to heat in the winter, though.
The best part, to nobody’s surprise, was her book collection. Floor-to-ceiling built-in shelves covered the length of the living room, each one of them stacked to the heavens with books—mostly romance novels, along with a few memoirs and mysteries.
The crossover between romance and mystery readers was real. Nessa and I had talked about that during one of our phone calls. Her theory was that both romance novels and mysteries offered readers a safe space to explore their desires and fears, respectively.
To be fair, love and fear often went hand in hand.
“I know you don’tneedmy approval,” Nero said a few minutes later. “But do you mind if I offer you a few words of advice?”
As much as I wanted to tell him no, I still wanted Nero to like me.
“Sure.”
“Don’t let her run you off.”
His warning gave me pause. “What do you mean?”
He got up to clear his plate and top off his coffee. It was probably best if he never knew that just a few hours ago, I had devoured his sister’s pussy in the exact spot where he had eaten his breakfast.
“Nessa tends to sabotage her relationships before they even begin,” he explained. “It’s more of a defense mechanism than anything else. Something she learned from our mom. And grandmother. We don’t really have the best track record for successful relationships in this family.”
“We have that in common.”
“Just give her grace, yeah?” His lips kicked up. “I think she might actually kind of like you.”
“What about you? Do you like me?”
He rolled his eyes. “I like your pancakes.”
By the time I finished cleaning up my mess, Nessa still hadn’t come downstairs yet. A small satisfaction warmed my stomach in knowing that last night’s activities had worn her out. I took her plate upstairs with me, grabbing up our discarded clothing from the night before along the way.
When I breached the bedroom door, I smiled to myself, pleased to see that the pots and pans hadn’t woken her. She was still fast asleep in the exact spot I had left her, only this time a lot more naked.
