“What? Why?” I ask, wondering what I’ve done this time.
I’m glad Naomi and Maddie are coming out of their respective funks, but as their spirits have improved, my sisters have reverted to picking on me like they did when we were kids. I’m trying to be a good sport about it, but I’m nearly twenty-four years old, for God’s sake. I’m not a child, and I can be trusted to live by myself and cook my own meals without setting the apartment above the bakery on fire.
“You’re staying right here,” Naomi points a threatening finger at my chest. “And that’s final.”
Lifting my hands in the universal sign of surrender, I back away, my workout towel hanging from my fist like a white flag.
Evidently, it’s going to take longer to get across the street to the fire station than the five minutes I just texted Faith.
“What?” I ask again. “I swear I didn’t touch anything in the bakery kitchen, not even when I really needed milk for my cereal.”
“Liar!” Maddie, my middle sister, pops up from behind the glass display case, her cheeks flushed and her brown ponytail frizzy from spending the morning in the kitchen. “I caught you on the nanny cam I hid in between the flour sacks. You are a milk thief, Mick Whitehouse!”
I shoot her an incredulous look. “You were spying on me?”
“I was checking up on you,” she says in a tone that makes it clear she feels zero remorse for setting up video surveillance on a family member. “And my checking reveals that you are a big, hairy liar.”
“It was three tablespoons,” I mumble, rolling my eyes. “Seriously. I was careful not to take enough to cause any recipe fallout. My cereal was barely damp. I don’t know why you two are so stingy with the milk, anyway. You have eight to a dozen gallons in there at any given time.”
“We also have health codes to think about,” Naomi says with a judgmental sniff.
“Well, I didn’t rub my hands in feces first,” I say with exaggerated patience. “I just went in with my clean hands, poured a tiny bit of milk into my clean cereal bowl, and walked back out, keeping all my nasty man germs to myself.”
“Speaking of nasty man germs…” Naomi crosses her arms at her chest, “This is about more than milk, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t! I have no idea what’s going on.” I link my hands behind my neck and lift a tortured gaze to the ceiling, praying for strength.
Why couldn’t I have been born first, God? Why? This could all have been avoided if I were the oldest, I just know it.
“Maddie told me all about your plans.” Naomi pokes me in the stomach hard enough to make me grunt. “And it’s not happening. You are not going to make Faith another name on your hit list.”
“I don’t have a hit list.” I hop back when she tries to poke me again.
“Yes, you do,” she says, lunging forward to jab me in the ribs before I can escape.
“Ow!” I cross my hands over my mid-section, doing my best to look pitiful, the way I would when Naomi was seventeen and I was seven and in trouble for sneaking into her room to play hobbits-trapped-in-the-dragon’s-cave under her bed.
Unfortunately, my pitiful face doesn’t work nearly as well now that I’m a good six inches taller than my sister.
“Since you moved back home, you’ve dated half the single women in Bliss River.” Naomi stalks me across the tile as I back away. “You’re making a name for yourself as a man-whore, Mick. Which is fine if that’s what you want to do. Lord knows, I’m not here to judge. I’m just here to make sure you stay away from Faith.”
“Yeah! I really like Faith.” Maddie pops up from behind the display case again, like a meddling whack-a-mole determined to ruin my chances with the one girl who’s made me feel truly excited about a date in what feels like years.
“I like her too,” I say, glancing over Naomi’s head at the front door, willing someone to walk into the bakery and save me from the third degree.
“Liking someone and wanting to get into their pants isn’t the same thing,” Naomi says in a condescending voice that makes my teeth itch. “And I’m not going to let you—”
“Okay, now hold on a hot second,” I say, irritation trumping my desire to keep the peace. “I love y’all, and I respect your opinions, but you are not my keepers or my parents. You don’t decide what I do, or who I date. And you don’t get to comment on my sex life. Ever.”
“Oh, come on,” Maddie says, her tone softening. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, baby brother, we’re only—”
“You’re only sticking your noses where they don’t belong.” I pin Maddie with a hard look, then shift my gaze to Naomi, then back to Maddie for good measure, hoping they’ll get the message that I won’t be rolling over and letting my bossy older sisters tell me what to do. Not this time. “I really like Faith. We’re working out together today and I’m taking her out on Thursday. And that’s all I have to say on the subject.”