Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(4)
“Rise and shine!” Theo booms. “You ready yet?”
No. I need to see this girl before I leave. “Five minutes.”
“Hurry up, bro. We don’t have all night! Logan’s got a two am curfew, so move your ass. We’re waiting outside.”
I cut the call, watching Cody cross the room with purpose, shoulders tense, eyes not veering from Mia. The newly acquired muscles on his back flex when he pumps his fists. It’s a nervous gesture. I know because I do the same fucking thing when I’m trying to compose myself.
He stops on Mia’s right, a step behind the stool: an oversized shadow ready to protect her. The melody fades. The room falls silent save for the techno beat blaring outside, and Mia slowly rises to her feet.
Too bad Cody’s blocking my line of sight.
Move, Cody.
I don’t know why I want to see her, but I do. I want to see the face behind the talent. The face responsible for Brandon’s humiliation. The face of a girl who wears heels with bows and pukes when she’s scared.
“Is Brandon still here?” she asks.
Cody wraps his arm around her, and the single click of her heel on the tiled floor tells me he pulled her closer.
That’s interesting.
My brothers don’t usually date, but his hold on Mia clearly shows she’s more than just another fuck. It’s in his stance—the protectiveness.
“Conor and Colt are trying to get rid of him. Don’t worry, even if he stays, I won’t let him anywhere near you, Bug.” He dips his head, and though I only see his back, I know he stamped a kiss on her hair. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Move, Cody. Show me your girl.
As if he hears my screaming mind, he lets go of Mia to fetch the wine, and finally, finally, I see her.
She looks like a senior... in fucking high school. Her white off-shoulder blouse is tucked into that layered tulle skirt sitting two inches over her knees.
It’s modest.
It’s girly.
It reminds me of candy floss, but somehow, it’s inappropriate because my mind runs wild, imagining everything she’s not showing.
She stands thirty feet away, yet her large eyes are so green the color is unmistakable. Skin like honey, small nose slightly upturned at the end, and those lips... natural, I can tell. Heart-shaped, bee-stung, so full it borders on ridiculous.
No fillers.
No makeup, either. Nothing. No lipstick, lip gloss, eyeshadow, or other stuff women use.
A soft glow of pink brightens her cheeks when she looks past Cody. She toys with her rings, tugging and twisting when our eyes lock. I have the urge to say boo just to watch her flinch. She looks afraid of her own shadow but holds my gaze despite her cheeks growing hotter. It’s cute. I’m sure she’d rather let the ground swallow her whole.
“Hi.” A hint, barely a suggestion of a smile pulls at the corners of her pouty mouth before she bites her cheek to keep it in check. “Thank you for letting me finish.”
Words somehow fail me for the first time ever. I don’t know what to say... You’re welcome? No problem?
Nothing sounds right.
“You’re gorgeous,” comes out instead. I smirk internally when her lips part into an inaudible oh.
Cody’s head snaps to me, a hard edge to his narrowed eyes. Yeah, I might’ve crossed a line, but fuck if that’s not true.
Mia shakes off the initial shock, using both hands as she tucks dirty-blonde strands behind her ears. “Um, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
She blushes harder, tugging her bracelets, and shifts her attention to Cody when he catches her hand, interlocking their fingers.
“You ready? Six is probably growing impatient.” He waits for Mia to nod. “Good. Say bye.”
“Bye,” she mouths, following it with an awkward wave.
Cody leads her out of the room, sending me a warning glare full of threats as if he’s afraid I’ll drag Mia upstairs to fuck the shyness out of her system.
He should know better.
I don’t waste time with college girls. Pretty and tight as they are, they’re too young and too clingy.
TWO
Nico
IT'S HALF PAST TWO IN THE MORNING when I come back a bit drunk and oddly at ease after spending six hours with my brothers.
The party’s still rampant in the garden, although not as loud. Most kids are gone or sleeping wherever there’s space. I scan the crowd out the living room window, doing my best not to burst into flames at the mayhem in the garden.
Broken furniture, a table at the bottom of the pool, confetti littering the lawn, and an upside-down rent-a-john.
The triplets jump to the beat, surrounded by a wreath of young, sexy bodies. They turned down the music, but the windows in the living room still shake when “Touch It” by Busta Rhymes blares from the tall speakers. They’re lucky my room’s soundproof, or I’d cut the power and kick out anyone who can still walk. It’s almost three in the morning, anyway. They should be in beds by now.
I leave the car keys on the coffee table, double-check the front door’s locked, grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and climb the stairs. A faint streak of light marks the marble tiles in the otherwise dark house, coming from a crack in the guest bedroom door.
Before I form a coherent thought and start fuming that the triplets let someone stay the night, I enter the room, stopping dead in my tracks the second I glance at the bed.