have nary a fingerprint on them. “This place is immaculate.” God, it’s neat as a pin, which only exemplifies the fact I live like a pig. Or maybe I’ve just forgotten what a house without a child in it looks like. No Barbie dream house, no layer of Legos covering the floor.
“I can’t take the credit.” Colt swoops in with a kiss. I turn slightly and he outsmarts me, landing his lips square over mine.
“Wow,” he winks, taking the bags from me. “We’re getting right to the action.”
“That was an accident—on my part.” I shoot him a wry look. “What’s with the hygienic environment? One of your floozies finally call the health department? Is the FDA cracking down on those obscene desserts you’ve been rumored to serve?”
We make our way to the kitchen. The counters are strategically lined with beer bottles from around the world. A picture of a naked cantina girl stares back at me from over the sink.
“Very funny,” he says, plucking out the Chinese food from the bag like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Truth is, I hate the upkeep around here so I’ve finally resorted to a cleaning lady. I assure you she’s a thing of beauty and most pleasurable to watch. If I throw in an extra fifty she vacuums topless. And now, that’s service with a smile.” He pauses and looks up at me with those twin emerald green eyes, same ones that Mitch took with him. Colt smolders into me a moment and my stomach pinches tight. “But I think you know I couldn’t care less about the smile.”
A moment of silence bumps by as he bears into me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. He’s holding my attention, making my insides quiver, but it’s all for his brother and he knows it. I reach out and touch his cheek, his five o’clock shadow, rough as sandpaper. He’s got his hair slicked back just the way Mitch wore it. He’s lost his drunken playboy appeal and layered beneath that was Mitch all along.
He waves a hand over my face.
“You okay?” He plucks out a couple of champagne bottles and holds one up in each hand, a lewd grin brimming on his lips.
“No thanks. I rarely take in the wine I sell, let alone down champagne for no good reason.”
His cheek pulls up one side, no smile. “You’re right. Marrying Max is no good reason,” he says, struggling to pop the cork.
I ignore his potshot and dish myself some food. “It’s nice to know you’re okay with this. I guess it’s an improvement from last week when you threatened litigation. ”
“Hey, I haven’t taken that off the table.” He bumps me playfully with his shoulder as he loads his plate.
“It figures. You do realize you rival Stella’s best efforts at being a two-year old—well, almost two.” Although, thankfully Stella approves of Max. Daddy was her first word, and he more than appreciated it.
Colt doesn’t say anything, he just goes into Mitch-mode again with his ultra serious demeanor, those hooded lids that I swear are trying to lure me into the bedroom.
“Look, I know this isn’t easy for you,” I whisper. “But if it makes you feel better, Max and I haven’t even slept together yet. I want to do everything by the book because I know how much Mitch would hate this.”
Colt comes to life with a little chuckle. “You cut him off, huh? You know what Mitch would appreciate even more? If you continued to give him the shaft after the nuptials. You could have one of those celibate marriages that are all the rage.”
I avert my eyes at his absurdity. “Celibate marriages are not ‘all the rage.’ More like an outrage , maybe.”
“Yeah, well”— he jabs his fork in food and spins it in a circle like a little boy—“why don’t you try it out and report back to me.”
My heart drops to my feet. It’s like Mitch is in there hiding, listening in, speaking through his older twin. I swear if Colt donned a suit, wore that tragic smile of Mitch’s I couldn’t tell them apart.
I push my plate back. No point in
“I can’t take the credit.” Colt swoops in with a kiss. I turn slightly and he outsmarts me, landing his lips square over mine.
“Wow,” he winks, taking the bags from me. “We’re getting right to the action.”
“That was an accident—on my part.” I shoot him a wry look. “What’s with the hygienic environment? One of your floozies finally call the health department? Is the FDA cracking down on those obscene desserts you’ve been rumored to serve?”
We make our way to the kitchen. The counters are strategically lined with beer bottles from around the world. A picture of a naked cantina girl stares back at me from over the sink.
“Very funny,” he says, plucking out the Chinese food from the bag like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Truth is, I hate the upkeep around here so I’ve finally resorted to a cleaning lady. I assure you she’s a thing of beauty and most pleasurable to watch. If I throw in an extra fifty she vacuums topless. And now, that’s service with a smile.” He pauses and looks up at me with those twin emerald green eyes, same ones that Mitch took with him. Colt smolders into me a moment and my stomach pinches tight. “But I think you know I couldn’t care less about the smile.”
A moment of silence bumps by as he bears into me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. He’s holding my attention, making my insides quiver, but it’s all for his brother and he knows it. I reach out and touch his cheek, his five o’clock shadow, rough as sandpaper. He’s got his hair slicked back just the way Mitch wore it. He’s lost his drunken playboy appeal and layered beneath that was Mitch all along.
He waves a hand over my face.
“You okay?” He plucks out a couple of champagne bottles and holds one up in each hand, a lewd grin brimming on his lips.
“No thanks. I rarely take in the wine I sell, let alone down champagne for no good reason.”
His cheek pulls up one side, no smile. “You’re right. Marrying Max is no good reason,” he says, struggling to pop the cork.
I ignore his potshot and dish myself some food. “It’s nice to know you’re okay with this. I guess it’s an improvement from last week when you threatened litigation. ”
“Hey, I haven’t taken that off the table.” He bumps me playfully with his shoulder as he loads his plate.
“It figures. You do realize you rival Stella’s best efforts at being a two-year old—well, almost two.” Although, thankfully Stella approves of Max. Daddy was her first word, and he more than appreciated it.
Colt doesn’t say anything, he just goes into Mitch-mode again with his ultra serious demeanor, those hooded lids that I swear are trying to lure me into the bedroom.
“Look, I know this isn’t easy for you,” I whisper. “But if it makes you feel better, Max and I haven’t even slept together yet. I want to do everything by the book because I know how much Mitch would hate this.”
Colt comes to life with a little chuckle. “You cut him off, huh? You know what Mitch would appreciate even more? If you continued to give him the shaft after the nuptials. You could have one of those celibate marriages that are all the rage.”
I avert my eyes at his absurdity. “Celibate marriages are not ‘all the rage.’ More like an outrage , maybe.”
“Yeah, well”— he jabs his fork in food and spins it in a circle like a little boy—“why don’t you try it out and report back to me.”
My heart drops to my feet. It’s like Mitch is in there hiding, listening in, speaking through his older twin. I swear if Colt donned a suit, wore that tragic smile of Mitch’s I couldn’t tell them apart.
I push my plate back. No point in
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