“Right?” Jacob agrees. “It’s annoying.”
Dad shakes his head. “Between the four of you, we can hardly make it through any medical, animal, or law enforcement shows without someone pointing out how wrong something is.”
“There’s certain jurisdiction that has to be—I’ll stop,” Mason says, and everyone laughs. I’m still glaring at him.
“Let’s get started,” Mom says, waving everyone into the living room. My phone rings as soon as I’m seated next to Chloe. I turn my wrist, looking at my Apple watch to see who’s calling. If it’s the trauma center, I’ll answer. If it’s anyone else, I won’t.
“Stacey?” Rory says out loud, letting the whole room know who’s calling me. “Again?”
“She must really want to talk to you,” Chloe adds. “This is the second time she’s called you today, isn’t it?”
“You’re still talking to Stacey?” Mom echoes.
“I’m not.” I hit decline. Talking about my clingy ex is the last thing I need right now. I sit back, arm brushing against Chloe’s. “What are we playing?”
“What about that picture game?” Rory suggests. “The one where you draw something and then pass it to the person next to you and they have to write what they think it is.”
“That sounds fun,” Chloe says. “But I’m a terrible artist, which I’m guessing is part of the fun.”
“It is,” Rory assures her, and Mom passes out the game pieces. We get started and play for a solid half an hour, laughing so hard at some of the drawings our sides hurt. Everyone is having a good time and, dammit, I wish it could be like this all the time. We play one more round and then stop for dessert since Rory wants to try to get Adam to bed soon.
Mom made apple pie, one of Chloe’s favorites when we were kids. We crowd around the dining room table again to eat, and then Rory and Dean go upstairs to get Adam asleep. Mom, worried about her chickens, has Dad go out to make sure the fox isn’t back and has Jacob come with her to check that none of the chickens got injured.
Mason, Chloe, and I are in the kitchen, and I bring my plate over to the pie to get a second piece. “Do you want any more?” I ask Chloe.
“I do!” Her eyes light up and her smile splits her pretty face. “Even though I shouldn’t, I’m trying to cut back on carbs.” She pats her stomach like she has weight to lose, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t like a woman who’s all skin and bone. Everyone likes to eat, and denying such a primal thing is a turn-off. I, for one, am not going to deprive myself of anything when I want it.
Well, anything besides Chloe.
“One night of indulgence won’t hurt a damn thing,” Mason says, taking a seat next to Chloe at the island counter. “Giving in to what you desire is good for you.”
Chloe blushes and looks down, slowly shaking her head. She opens her mouth to say something and then her phone rings. “Oh, that’s my agent’s ringtone. If she’s calling on a Sunday night, it has to be important.” She hops off the barstool and goes to her purse, fishing out her phone. “I’ll be right back,” she tells us and slips out onto the patio to talk in peace.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I round on Mason.
“I told you, I’m making my move on Chloe. She’s smoking hot, and since you’re not emotionally invested, she’s fair game.”
“She’s not a game to be played.”
“If you like her, then admit it and I’ll back off.” Mason holds up his hands. “But since you already said all you want is to be her friend, why do you care?” His eyes pierce mine, testing me. “We both know that’s not true, and I can’t stand here and watch you strike out again and again.”
“Fuck you.”
“You should be thanking me.”
“For hitting on Chloe? No fucking way.”
“Admit it,” Mason goes on. “You want to be the one fucking her tonight.”
I open my mouth only to snap it shut.
“Your loss. Her tits look fucking fantastic in that dress.” He holds his hands up. “I bet they feel even better.”
Anger boils inside me, both at Mason for being a shithead just to be a shithead, and to hear someone talk about Chloe that way. I swing my fist at him, not actually wanting to punch my brother. Mason blocks my arm as I expected him to and tries to kick my feet out from underneath me. I grab him, trying to pull him down instead.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Hurt me?” Mason rams us forward into the kitchen table. “Go ahead and try.” He puts his foot between mine and knocks me off balance, but we both go down. “Admit it!” He tries to pin me down, a typical move he always did in our youth. I dodge out of the way and go to stand back up, but he grabs me again, wrestling me back to the ground. “Admit it!” He swats at my face. Now that we’ve started the fight, we’re going to end it, though neither of us wants to actually injure the other. But like hell, I’m just going to roll over and submit.