38

Spoiler Alert

When Bryce pulled up to the lakehouse at the crack of dawn that Saturday, a fine mist still threaded through the pines and firs hugging the shores of that impressive body of water. He stepped from his car, glanced at the two cars parked in the graveled cul-de-sac, and hoisted his bag from the seat beside him.

Drew’d invited someone else? This was the closest thing to a party he’d probably ever had without Juliet being involved.

God, but he remembered it being warmer all those weekends he’d spent out here.

It never ceased to amaze him how Drew had never connected the dots; Juliet retreating to the lake the same time he put in a day’s leave at the office, back when they still had to work weekends. Strangely enough, Juliet’s unexpected death had brought him and his brother closer — though they’d never be BFF’s, not in anyone’s book.

His footsteps were loud but sullen as he crunched through layers of pine needles and gravel and thumped down the wooden staircase.

The front door was open. The living room smelled of stale wood smoke, cigarettes, and sex. Bryce wrinkled his nose, hesitating before setting his bag down by the door. A quick scan revealed an empty pitcher, two wine glasses, an ashtray, and a discarded blanket.

Fireplace sex. How fucking romantic.

So the girl was here. Was that her car? His mouth quirked to the side. What was Drew up to, throwing a kitten into a lion’s den like this?

He’d been in two minds to accept the invitation here. He loved the lakehouse — it was one of the two places in the world he actually felt at peace. And it had so many pleasant, erotic memories of Juliet that he’d have to be sick or dying to have declined.

Except… spending time with Drew in such close-knit quarters was like leaving a popcorn kernel too close to the fire. The longer it stayed there, so close to that inferno, the sooner it would explode. And then there was that matter of the trust, and whatever the hell Drew planned with that. It would fail, of course; Drew’s misguided attempts at revenge always did.

But fuck it; this week had been taxing. Stuffed with meetings and memos and minutes for the meetings that the memos didn’t cover. He’d forgotten just how much Drew’d taken off his shoulders when he’d been able to coerce the man into doing his paperwork.

He needed a break. Nay; he deserved one.

And seeing Drew explode would just be the cherry on top of the motherfucking delicious sundae that would be this weekend.

The girl didn’t change anything. In fact, she was more like an extra helping of whipped cream. Who knew? Drew might even go off on a sulk and he could have another serving of Angel. Maybe even two.

Footsteps padded down the stairs. The upstairs door opened, and Angel stepped through as if his lewd thoughts had summoned her.

He stayed still, watching her, his smile growing as he waited for her to spot him. She wiped a hand over her eyes and yawned widely as she fluffed out that pitch black hair of hers. She wore white leggings, sheepskin slippers, and a retro sweater with a faded, smiling cherry on it. There wasn’t a touch of the sex-appeal she’d had when she’d been kneeling naked at the door waiting for him.

Waiting for Drew.

His smile slid, but he forced it back into place when she turned and narrowed her eyes in his direction.

Her spine snapped straight, and she froze in her tracks.

“You came.” Her voice was soft, her eyes blinking furiously as if she was trying to will him out of existence.

“Good to see you too, baby girl.”

She tightened the grip on her robe at that and cast a furtive glance upstairs. Then she squared her shoulders, gave him a frigid smile, and stalked across the living room to the kitchen.

“Coffee? I’m putting on a pot.”

“Sure thing.”

When she disappeared into the kitchen, his smile slid off like snow melting in the sun.

Not quite the reaction he’d been expecting, but nothing he couldn’t work with. He tugged off his gloves, laying them on the top of his bag as he hoisted it to his side and made for the stairs. Movement made him turn to the kitchen’s doorway.

Angel glared at him from the lintel. “He wants to make peace, you know. That’s why you’re here.”

“Peace?” Bryce smiled at her, giving her a single-shouldered shrug. “We’re not at war.”

“Yeah?” she said, her blue eyes narrowing. “Sure about that?”

“You don’t know us well enough yet, baby girl.” Bryce leaned with his palm against the wall, widening his smile. “This is what we do. This is the game we play. The one we’ve always played.”

He chuckled and cupped his hand around the side of his mouth. “Spoiler alert,” he said in a stage whisper. “I always win.”

Her scowl made him laugh as he trudged up the steps to find his room.