A Favor for a Favor (All In 2)

“Yeah, right.”

She rolls her eyes and grins widely, pointing to the dimple high on her cheek. “See the resemblance?”

“Not really. No,” I say truthfully, because I haven’t paid enough attention to Rook’s face in the time I’ve been on the team, which hasn’t been long. Also, on the infrequent occasions I do make eye contact with Rook, both of us are usually scowling.

Her hair smacks me in the face as she spins on her heel and stalks out of the bathroom. I loathe admitting I stare at her ass. She returns less than a minute later with a framed photo and a few pieces of paper. She tosses the papers at me—they turn out to be envelopes that read STEVIE BOWMAN.

“Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“Stevie is my name.” She points at her chest, which draws attention to her cleavage and her pert nipples. Her tank is white, and even though it has one of those built-in bra things so there’s an extra layer of fabric between her nipples and my eyeballs, I can still see the outline of her areolae. They’re small and delicate, and the whole thing would easily fit in my mouth. Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about sex?

I roll my eyes. “Nice try. Stevie is a guy’s name.”

“I’m named after my dad.” She holds the framed picture an inch from my nose.

It’s too close for me to make out the actual faces, so I take it from her, somewhat forcefully. It’s an older photo, based on how young Rook is, but beside him is the woman standing in front of me, hair light blonde instead of pale pink. They’re both smiling, and I see now the resemblance she was talking about.

I look up at her and then back down at the picture. “Shit. You’re Bowman’s baby sister?”

“I’m hardly a baby.” She crosses her arms, pushing her tits up and highlighting her cleavage.

“Yeah, I can see that.” I force my eyes back up to her face. At least I feel slightly less bad about noticing how hot she is.

“I can’t believe you thought I was his, what . . . mistress?” She flips her hair over her shoulder and sneers.

I throw my hands up in the air. “Well, what the hell was I supposed to think when you show up in the middle of the night looking like something the cat dragged in, being all evasive and noisy and shit?”

“I wasn’t being evasive.”

“You could’ve said you were Bowman’s sister from the start, though. It would’ve cleared up a lot of shit.”

“Would it have changed how much of an asshole you’ve been?”

“Well, yeah, of course.” If I’d known who she was, I wouldn’t have been such a giant dick.

She props her fist on her curvy hip. “I shouldn’t have to announce that I’m related to my famous fucking brother for people to be nice to me.”

I drag a palm down my face. She’s missing the damn point. “That’s not—”

Her hand shoots out in front of my face, startling me. I almost fall off the slippery toilet seat. “As fun as this conversation has been, I have to get ready for work, so now is probably a good time for you to get your shit and head back to your asshole headquarters. You’re super welcome for taking care of your rude ass last night.” She spins around and stalks out of the bathroom.

“I thought you were a morally deficient stick chaser! And I’m always an asshole,” I yell after her.

A door slams from down the hall.

“Dammit.” I drop my head in my hands and mutter a string of curses. This is not awesome. I’ve been a total dick to Bowman’s sister. I mean, I’m a dick most of the time, but I was extra dicky with her. And I pissed all over her bathroom. Plus I’ve insulted her a bunch of times. If she tells him, it’s going to make my life even more miserable. Maybe she already has.

I use my crutches to pull myself up. I do a half-assed job of cleaning up the mess I made all over her toilet seat, and the side of the vanity, and the floor. I even managed to get the damn mirror. I might have to send my cleaner over to deal with this.

I debate whether I should leave but decide it would be better to try to smooth things over and lessen the chance of her ratting me out to her brother. I crutch down the hall, slowly. I need to take some painkillers and lie down again.

I reach what I’m assuming is her bedroom and knock on the door. “Hey, uh, Stevie?” It’s a weird name, but it seems to fit her.

“Are you still here?” The door swings open. “And still in your damn underwear. Where the hell are your pants?”