Deal Makers (Dealing with Love 3)

“Oh, sure. Sorry.” I step aside so she can drop her own mail into the slot.

I stare at the wall dejectedly, cursing in every word I know in both English and Italian. I’m starting to get funny looks from the other patrons, so I decide to leave before I get arrested for behaving like a nutcase in a federal building. I drive on autopilot, with no true destination in mind, but I’m not all that surprised that I wound up in front of my brother’s house. I’ve got a lot of frustration brewing and I feel like taking it out on someone. Who better than the one person responsible for this whole mess?

My eyes flick to the pale yellow Craftsman in front of me. Brody and Rainey recently gave up downtown living, selling their condos to join Devyn and Riley in textbook suburbia. Now, they live less than a mile away from each other on family-friendly Mercer Island. Brody’s house is only about eight miles from my place, but with Seattle traffic, it could easily take half an hour to drive here. That’s not very

long, generally speaking, but it’s certainly not as convenient as being able to walk to and from each other’s houses.

Without another thought, I exit my vehicle and begin rapidly ringing the doorbell.

I can hear Brody from the inside. “Jesus, fuck! Hold your tits! I’m coming!”

I can tell he didn’t check the window in his haste to make the ringing stop because he’s shocked to see me.

“What are you doing here?”

I bump his shoulder as I invite myself in.

He closes the door. “Of course you can come in! No need to ask.”

I spin around and pin him with a murderous glare. “I don’t need your fucking sarcasm right now, Brody.”

“You’re in my house, Charlee. I can use all the fucking sarcasm I want.”

“Whatever,” I huff. “I’m not staying anyway. I just thought you should know that you won, in case you haven’t heard yet.”

He walks toward the back of the house so I have no choice but to follow if I want to continue my rant.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

We get to the kitchen where Rainey is making a sandwich. She looks just as surprised to see me as my brother did.

“Oh, hey, Charlee. Was that you ringing the bell?”

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that she’s not my target. “Uh...yeah, sorry about that.”

Rainey gazes between me and Brody. It’s pretty obvious she can sense the tension between us. Hell, people in Canada can probably sense it.

“You two look like you could use a minute alone.” She puts the sandwich fixings in the fridge and places a kiss on Brody’s cheek. “Be nice. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

I wait until she’s gone before resuming my attack.

Brody crosses his arms over his chest. “Well? Are you going to tell me what crawled up your ass? And why you look like shit?”

Because not sleeping and crying all damn night will do that to you, asswipe.

I flip him off. “Do you really need to ask?”

He reaches into an upper cabinet and pulls down a bottle of Macallan. He grabs a couple glasses and pours about two fingers into each. He takes a sip from one and offers the other to me.

I shake my head. “I told you I’m not staying.”

He rolls his eyes. “Take the fucking drink, Charlotte. You obviously need to get something off your chest. If you need a ride home, Rainey or I can take you.”

“Fine.” I grab the glass and down the amber liquid in one big gulp. Brody’s lips twitch when I set it on the counter. “I’ll take one more.”

He tips the bottle over, filling it a little more generously. “Let’s go out back.”

I take my scotch and follow him through the sliding glass doors onto a large patio. Brody nods, indicating that I should take a seat on one of the Adirondack chairs as he folds his body into the one across from it.