“Wow.” Marti takes a break from filling her Michael Kors satchel with listing flyers. “Small world, huh? I love when that happens. Unless it’s someone I hate. Was it someone you hate?”
“No. Not at all,” I reply and drop down gently into my seat. “She and her sisters were sweethearts. Seems like they still are. I’ll definitely find out, because I’m having brunch with them tomorrow.”
“Cool.” Marti isn’t paying attention anymore. Her eyes are focused across the room on Parker McDavid, who is the owner of our company. He’s midforties, tall with a dad bod that is oddly attractive, probably because he covers it in perfectly tailored designer clothes. His dark hair is graying in all the right places, like George Clooney’s, and his eyes are warm and his smile is kind. But he’s an astute businessman who expects a lot from his Realtors, and Marti is constantly trying to impress him. I am too, if I’m being honest, but I’m new. She’s not new, but she’s still hungry.
“I’m going to tell Parker about the deal I just closed, and then I’m off for a condo showing,” Marti explains and barely even waves good-bye as she hustles toward the kitchen Parker just disappeared into for his morning croissant and English Breakfast tea.
I open my laptop and pull up my email, determined to keep my mind focused on work. I need to send a follow-up email regarding the potential Haight listing, but my brain is bouncing from Adam to Dixie.
One future encounter I’m dreading—confronting Adam—and one I’m looking forward to—seeing the Braddock sisters. But the one that isn’t destined to happen is the one that fills me with excitement I haven’t felt in a long time—the potential that since I’m meeting three Braddock siblings I might also run into the fourth: Jude.
3
Jude
My head is pounding. Fuckingpounding. I groan and slide deeper into my king-size bed, pulling the sheets up higher so I’m buried under them. The pounding isn’t painful but it’s annoying. It won’t go away. God, why the fuck do I drink? Seriously, why?
“Jude Fucking Joseph Asshole Randall Dirtball Braddock, would you answer your goddamn door!”
“Who the fuck are you?” I shout back to the voice outside my bedroom door.
“I will call Mom and Dad, and they’ll make you do it!” the voice warns, and I know it’s Winnie. “Or better yet, I’ll answer the door myself, and take pictures of whatever horny skank is on the other side and send them to Mom and Dad.”
“Sweet bloody hell,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear and for the pounding in my head to match the pounding she’s doing on my bedroom door. But I do what she’s asking and roll out of bed. I grab my jeans from last night off the floor and tug them on, falling over and thankfully landing back on the bed and not the hardwood floor. I zip them up, careful not to catch any important parts with the zipper, and leave the button undone as I stumble toward my bedroom door.
I swing it open and all three of them are standing, in perfect V formation, in a variety of pajama sets with their arms crossed over their chests and angry scowls on their faces. As soon as I’ve openedmy bedroom door, I can hear the incessant ringing of the doorbell. Oh. That’s why they’re bothering me. I roll my eyes at them and stumble down the long hall to the front door. They do exactly what I knew they’d do: follow along behind, cackling insults like a bunch of pissed-off chickens.
“What self-respecting woman bangs on this jackass’s door in the middle of the night?” Sadie wonders.
“I can’t decide if it’s more horrifying or pathetic,” Winnie laments.
“We’ll know when he opens that door and we see her face,” Dixie explains. “If she’s gorgeous and articulate, and mostly sober, then it’s pathetic, because she can definitely do better.”
I turn as I reach for the door and glare at all of them. “I’m right here. Maybe save the insults for later.”
I make a shooing motion with my hand, and the sorority, as I like to call my sisters, begrudgingly takes a few steps back. I turn back to the front door, which someone is still banging on, unlock it and swing it open. I barely have time to make out a face before a warm, lithe female body is pressing itself against me. I feel lips brush my cheek and a voice I’m embarrassed to say I don’t really recognize says, “Hey, gorgeous. I’m so glad you answered.”
My hands wrap around tiny hips and I gently push her back so I can see her face. I remember her now. Kate. Never did get a last name. I met her a couple weeks ago at a nightclub. I was on a mission that night, looking for a quick, fun fuck, and this girl was good to go. She lives in Oakland. A fuck isn’t quick or fun when it involves a long, expensive cab ride to and from, so I suggested my place. This was my chronic mistake, as it turns out. She’s the third girl to show up here uninvited in the last two weeks.
“I kind of didn’t have a choice,” I say and try not to sound as annoyed as I am. “I was worried you’d wake the neighbors.”
I glance past her, and thankfully the hall is quiet and empty. I live in a very high-end condo complex, and my neighbors have made it clear in the past that they’re less than impressed with my frequent visitors. Yet they haven’t hired a doorman who could actually keep these unexpected guests from making it upstairs. I’ve been suggesting it since I moved in.
“Sorry. I just really wanted to see you. Didn’t you get my texts?” she says and smiles at me while her hands make their way up my bare chest.
“My phone is off,” I reply, which is a total lie. I ignored her five texts asking me where I was and if I wanted to hook up tonight. I didn’t.
“Oh,” she murmurs and rocks up on her tiptoes so her lips graze my cheek again. “No harm done. I’m here now, and I’m dying to wrap my lips around your—”
“What the actual fuck?!” Dixie’s voice rumbles down the hallway, bouncing sharply off the walls.
As Kate tenses under my hands, which are still on her hips, I know exactly what Dixie is doing. I’m embarrassed to say she’s done it before. She’s pretending to be my girlfriend so that Kate will freak out and leave—and never come back. Kate’s eyes slide over my shoulder, and as soon as they land on Dixie, she recoils from me.
I glance over my shoulder, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head. My youngest sister is standing there, by the door to my bedroom, in one of my Thunder T-shirts and shorts, caressing a very round belly. Her eyes meet mine and I can tell, because I know her so well, she’s biting back a smile. But her words are angry and her eyes hard. “Jude! My water is going to break any day now and you’re still sleeping around? Are you kidding me right now?”
Kate steps back out into the hallway. “I’m going to go.”
I nod. “Yeah. Of course.”
