Hard Luck (Trophy Boyfriends 4)

“So.” He rests his elbows on the counter. Leans in, eyes watchful. “What’s going on?”

He looks tired, as if he just worked out in a gym for hours and has physically and mentally exhausted himself.

Probably because he has.

Which probably means he won’t have the willpower to spend much time debating me. Still, I am his little sister, and he is protective. He and my other brother, Trace (aka: Buzz), have always done a bang-up job sheltering me. Looking out for me. Championing me.

When they’re not riding my ass or hazing me, that is. The assholes love nothing more than giving me a hard time, especially in front of our parents.

I’m not just their only sister; I’m the baby of the family.

“I was hoping I could crash here for a while,” I start. “My roommate Monica forgot to pay our rent for a few months.”

“A few months?” His brows are so far up in his hairline it’s almost comical.

“Yes?”

“Not paying for a few months in a row is called defaulting,” he snaps, already riled up on my behalf. “Did she steal the rent money or just not pay?”

I give my head a little shake. “She paid, but not until it was too late.”

“What the hell was she thinking? And why was she put in charge of the money?”

Good question. Likely because Winnie and I were lazy about it too, and Monica seemed like the obvious, easy choice.

I sigh, having already gone over this same story with my parents. “We put her in charge of the bills because she’s the one who’s always there. Winnie hardly sleeps there because she has a new boyfriend, and I travel so much for work, so we thought…”

My brother scowls the famous Wallace glare. “The last person you should trust blindly with your money is someone with full access to your space and personal business.”

I roll my eyes. “She didn’t have access to my bank account—I sent her the money every month.”

My brother scowls again. “Why weren’t you able to send your landlord the money separately? That makes no fucking sense.”

“He’s old school I guess—wanted it all in one lump sum.”

“This isn’t college. Your landlord should get with the program and figure this shit out so things like this don’t happen. If you and that Winnie girl paid but Monica didn’t, you could have kicked her ass out and found a new roommate. Instead, you’re all out on the street.”

“Out on the street? That’s being dramatic.” My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, defeated. “Look, all I know is I don’t have a place to stay. I can start looking at apartments in the morning—I have a few days where I’m remote.” Work isn’t expecting me to be anywhere.

Tripp shakes his head. “Call Buzz. He’s working on a few rental properties, and I bet one of them is open.”

My lips purse in objection. “I’m not going to squat in one of his income properties. He could rent to someone who needs a place to live. It wouldn’t be fair of me.”

Plus, he would be all up my ass.

So annoying with that middle child syndrome.

Tripp laughs. “But you’re willing to squat in my guest bedroom? Explain the difference, because I’m confused.”

I pluck an apple out of a bowl indignantly. “You have free food.”

“What if you bought a condo instead of renting? Or a small house? Interest rates are awesome right now—you could lock in a great rate.”

I have considered the idea of buying something. But… “Eh. I think I want something with a pool and zero maintenance. I’m hardly around.”

Hardly around.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my stomach lurches, serving as a reminder of the life growing inside me, the other life I have to consider before making major decisions—like where I’m going to live.

The fact is, once this baby is born, I’ll need to provide a home and maybe even a yard. Pools aren’t safe. Do I want to raise a city kid?

More importantly…

Privacy.

Especially considering who the father is.

I bite my bottom lip, guilt and reality weighing heavily on me.

Shoot.

Perhaps renting an apartment isn’t such a great idea. Maybe I should find a cute little house nearby—not that I could possibly afford one in my brother’s neighborhood, but something close enough that I could lean on them in a pinch. Plus, I would own it and have my own assets, rather than keeping my meager savings sitting in the bank, doing nothing to grow.

“Well,” Tripp says finally. “If you want to look at houses, let me know. Buzz and I can take you.”

That makes me laugh. “You think for one second I would let the two of you take me house hunting? Are you out of your damn mind?”

He looks affronted. “What’s wrong with us taking you house hunting?”

Is he for real right now? “You cannot conduct yourselves at all in public—not with each other. You act like children!” Correction: the three of us act like children. Bickering, arguing, one-upping each other.