The sun is covered with a whitewash of clouds as if summer knows its sweltering days are numbered. For all practical purposes, it’s already fall as classes gear up to start next week. But at the moment, I’m seated in a cushy leather chair in the offices of Capwell, Edwards, and James Media Services, listening to Bryson Edwards give a pep talk to the dozens of new hires as the company treads toward the end of its first financial quarter.

Ryder, my first cousin once removed, if that’s still a thing, was kind enough to offer me this internship. I called him last spring when I got the acceptance to WB. I was pretty amped up to get right into the business program, and I was hoping to score an internship at Capwell, Inc., the company owned by his father, but he generously offered me one at his start-up instead. I would have asked my own father to help me get in at Capwell, but at the moment he’s all about tough love. There will be no nepotism coming from either of my parents—not now, and not in the foreseeable future.

I try to glance up at Bryson every now and again, but my eyes hang heavy at the sight of him. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty for the sins of my sister, but it’s as if all the terrible things she’s done were somehow stitched to my forehead. I bear her shame. I do. And perhaps the real reason is because I still love her. She’ll always be Aubree, my big sister. Unfortunately, now she also bears a few more titles, such as murderer, and attempted murderer as well. It’s a known fact she’s got more than one screw loose, and I wish I could hate her like the rest of the world. Sometimes I think that would be easiest, perhaps even best, but I can’t. In fact, her major fuck ups in life are exactly what have turned me into a big brother nightmare for my seventeen-year-old sister, Ava.

That girl from the party Saturday night, the one I happened to dump my drink on that afternoon, flies through my mind. She was a nightmare—that’s for sure—but there was something about her that reminded me of Ava, and that was the reason I was looking at her when that ball nearly nailed her in the head. It was headed straight for her temple whether or not she’s willing to admit it. A temple shot like that would have been fatal. I shake my head at the thought.

“You don’t think so?” Bryson looks affronted as I come to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that last part.” Shit. The last thing I need is for anyone to think I’m a slacker. Ryder started this company with his good buddies, Wyatt and Bryson. Bryson’s girlfriend Baya was one of Aubree’s victims—she was the lucky one. She survived. I still thank God Aubree didn’t kill her. Wyatt James rounds out the trio with his familiar brooding face—that last name that I’ve been trying to place for the last hour.

Bryson continues, “I was thinking we should send out teams to speak with department heads of the corporations we’re hoping to pull in. Instead of cold calling, we’ll be cold contacting—in person. It’s not a fun job, but it could be since we’ve decided to throw in a thousand dollar bonus for each company we sign a contract with.”

The room lights up with a warm round of gratitude.

A thousand dollars. I swallow hard. I can use a thousand dollars. Hell, I can use many thousands of dollars. I didn’t score any big scholarships, and I’m hoofing most of my student loans myself. A part of my father’s don’t-be-a-murdering-fuck-up-like-your-sister campaign involved cutting me off financially and booting me out of the house once I turned eighteen. Another reason I’m keeping a watchful eye on Ava. She’s just nine months away from that legal extradition. I don’t know what the hell my parents are thinking. I’m barely able to make it on my own, and if they knew what lengths I was going through to keep my lights on, they might have second thoughts over their campaign to let life teach me a lesson or two the hard way. Not that I want a handout, but a little mercy would be nice. I’ll be the first to admit I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, a never-ending supply of cash and credit cards lining my wallet. There was a brand new sports car to drive the second I turned sixteen, which was repossessed by my parents the day I moved out, and instead, I rode my trusty Schwinn to the nearest youth hostel. Life is a bitch, but I wasn’t as angry at the universe as I was with my parents. They figured they screwed up with Aubree and didn’t want to chance any more litigation in their future. But it’s water under the bridge. I hustled, got work where I could, and ended up with an apartment, an old beat-up pickup, and even managed to get two years of community college under my belt. Now I’m at Briggs, with just two years left until I get the golden ticket.

The meeting comes to an end, and I’m slow to collect my notes, my laptop still staring blankly at me.

“Piper!” Wyatt stands, and I swivel my head to the door. “You’re late.”

“Better late than ever!” she chimes, and my heart decides to quit on me.

“Better never late.” He pulls her into an embrace, and a dark curtain of hair falls over his shoulder.

Shit.

Here she is. The raven-haired goddess that cursed and vexed me long into my wet dreams stands less than six feet away. She jumps back with her thigh-high boots, her long blanket-like jacket, and glossy straight hair. She’s beautiful. She’s spoiled. I can tell. Entitled, too. You don’t get an attitude like that without a little help from your trust fund. On second thought, maybe my parents are onto something with this tough love bullshit.

She shakes Bryson and Ryder’s hands as Wyatt does the introductions. Her eyes pan over the otherwise empty boardroom, and I slip down in my seat a notch.

The smile glides right off her face at the sight of me. “What’s he doing here?” She bites the air with her words.

“Whoa.” Wyatt inches back. “Remove the fangs. He’s an intern like you. This is Owen. He’s harmless, I promise. Owen, this is my sister, Piper, from Manhattan. She’s an entering freshman. Maybe you can show her around campus?”

“No thanks.” Piper holds up a hand like she might be sick. Obviously, the fangs stay. “I’m pretty keyed-in right now.”

A dry laugh pumps through my chest. I saw exactly who was trying to insert his key into her hole the other night. Winston Stanford. A quick background check yielded nothing in particular. He’s just your standard finance jockey following in daddy’s footsteps. As far as my sources can tell, he’s not a womanizer. Still don’t like him. Not that I like her either. She’s a piece of work I want nothing to do with—all bark and fang-worthy bite. Hell on heels if I’ve ever seen it. No thank you. Not for me.

Her mouth twists up as if she were about to spit out a lemon as her eyes, those piercing blue high beams of hers, knife me with hatred.

Ryder collects his printed materials from the table. “Since you’re the only two interns at the moment, I’d appreciate it if you can team up. I have a list of potential corporations you can talk to, and, if you manage to land us any of the accounts, the bonus is yours to keep. Normally, it’s not something we’d extend to the interns, but we’re more than happy to put the dollar signs out there for you to chase. Let’s make some money.” He tweaks his brows as he heads for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Bryson checks his phone. “I’d better get going. I have a meeting across town, and then I have to deal with an army of plumbers at the Ice Bar.”

Bryson and his siblings own a few bars that they bought out from their father—the most popular being the Black Bear, which is just a stone’s throw from Briggs.

“Hey.” I jump up and meet him partway to the exit. “I wanted to thank you again for letting me do this.” I search his face for a hint of hatred, a touch of displeasure with my presence, but there isn’t any. “It means everything. I need all the experience I can get. This might be the edge that gets me where I need to be post-graduation, so I’m really thankful for that.”

“Not a problem.” He taps my arm with his fist. “Hey, I’m not holding anything against you. In fact, swing by the Black Bear if you get a chance. I want you to meet Baya. She’s more than okay with you working here. She wants to reassure you herself; she made it a point to tell me so.”

“I’d like that.” A swell of relief pushes through me. “I’m still”—I pause from the impromptu confession working its way up my throat—“I’m still in touch with my sister.”

“You do whatever you need to do. If it were my sister, I’d still be in touch with her, too. Look, I know that Aubree is sick, and I hope she’s getting the help she needs. I’m not making excuses for her, but I’m not wishing anything bad upon her either.” His phone buzzes, and he winces as if he needs to take it.

“I’ll catch you later. Thanks again.” I turn to scoop up my things and note Wyatt isn’t in the room. It’s just the partying princess and me.

“You can’t deny you’re stalking me now.” Her lips invert at the tips, and it’s a cute look on her.

She’s pouty, irate, wanting to claw my eyes out, and that’s what’s getting my dick’s attention? Maybe I should get my head checked out as well. Clearly, insanity runs in my family. My eyes glide down her body. It’s the first time she’s not gesticulating while wearing my favorite iced drink or glaring at me in a dimly lit room. Piper is beautiful, with a body that has the power to reduce the male population to marshmallows. She’s what most of the boys I work for would beg me to land in their beds. Of course, for someone like her, the fee would be exorbitant. The hotter they are, the harder they fall onto the mattress of my manipulation. But one look at her at that rally, that desperate look in her eyes to get the girls from Alpha Chi to like her, and I saw my own sister. Both of them, actually. Aubree when she first landed at Briggs. She did any and everything to get into that twisted organization, and eventually it was her downfall. And I saw Ava in them, too, with her burgeoning beauty and outward need for the world to like her, her hunger and thirst to be accepted.

“You caught me. I’m a stalker.” I hold up my hands as if surrendering to this bizarre fantasy of hers. “And now I’ve got you right where I want you, working alongside me for the next two years.”

She gives a cute as hell smirk. “Sounds like a prison sentence.”

Aubree swims through my mind, but I let her swim right back out. I don’t want Piper to become some transference issue I might be having with my ex-con of a sibling.

“It won’t be. I’m not here to watch your every move or make you fall in love with me. I’m here to glean what I can so that when I’m thrown out into the real business world, I stick the landing. I’m knee-deep in a shithole. I need this internship. I’m not here to ruin your good time. Try not to ruin mine.”

A moment of silence clots up the air.

“Wow.” Her eyes widen as she blinks back her disdain for me.

I can’t remember the last time I spoke to a girl that way, and a seam of remorse rips through me. I’m not sure why, but something about her brings out the worst in me. I don’t like that either. On second thought, this just might pan out to be a prison sentence.

She scoffs. “You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’m learning from the master.” I harden my gaze into hers, and a dull ache churns in my balls. Down, boy, this isn’t the girl that’s going to alleviate any pressure you might build up, so don’t even go there.

“So, what’s the deal?” She folds her arms over her ample chest and shudders. My eyes demand to dip to her bust line. She’s curvy. I’m guessing a full C-cup. I can’t help but admire it a moment. I’m a hopeless pervert at heart, and I happen to be a tit man. Nothing wrong with that, except, of course, when you’re standing in a boardroom decrying the fact you need to maintain professionalism to save your neck upon graduation.

I clear my throat, returning my gaze to its proper upright position. “The deal is, we need to hustle this start-up to anyone who will listen. For every company we bring them, we get a bonus of a thousand dollars.”

“A thousand dollars?” Her forehead wrinkles as if questioning the paltry sum.

“Yes, a thousand dollars. I get it. That’s one lousy pair of shoes for you, but for me that’s rent, dinner, and a movie—maybe a new lube job.”

“Lube job?” Her gaze dips to my crotch, and a laugh struggles to break free, but I won’t let it.

“Don’t worry. I’m not giving you one.”

Her mouth falls open.

“So, did you get in?” I pull a seat out for her, and she reluctantly takes it.

“No. Rush hasn’t even started yet. It starts Friday. But I’m a shoo-in.” She hitches her hair behind her ear with a smug grin.

“What makes you think so?”

“The girls in charge think they’re the world’s greatest matchmakers, and as long as I appear interested in their hand-selected side of beef, that should stroke their ego into gifting me a bed.”

“What?” I squint into her, trying to figure out if this is simply a devious side of her or if she truly does belong with the mindfucks that run that twisted organization.

She bites hard over her bottom lip, letting it out slow as January. I watch as the white imprint of her teeth ripens a cherry red, and my dick ticks at the sight.

“I saw you with that girl.” Her head twitches to the side. “She took off, and then you left. You had quite the estrogen-based beehive surrounding you all night. Looks like you chose a lemon.” A smug look of satisfaction crests over her, and I’d like nothing better than to wipe it off by crushing my lips to hers.

What the hell am I thinking? She’s young. Too young in fact. And she’s essentially my boss’s little sister. This girl is an illegal catch, and I’m staying the hell away from her, at least in that capacity. My dick twitches again in protest.

“She wasn’t a lemon.” I close my laptop and scoot into her, our eyes locking with heat. “Anja never is. She’s a Russian beauty.” My lids hood over as she lets out a breath. “She’s sweet.” I lean in. “Tastes like sugar.”

“Gross.” Piper sticks her finger down her throat. “I don’t need a road map to figure out you’re the king of spilling your questionable and possibly STD-riddled bodily fluids all over campus. I’m just counting my lucky stars all I was met with was your Starbucks discards and a cheap beer.” She leans in with a mixture of disdain and disgust brewing on her face. “God forbid you should come at me with something sinister squirting from your body.” She lowers her gaze to my crotch before riding back up.

“You’re the one who’s gross.” Now it’s my turn to give a smug smile, but that only has her snarling. “All right, truce.” I hold up my hands.

“No truce. I’m never letting down my defenses with you. I know your type.” She takes out her laptop and pulls up the Capwell, Edwards, and James Media Services website.

“What type is that?” I pull up the same website on my own laptop and wonder how in the hell we’re ever going to work together.

Piper glances over. Her dark hair catches the light and shines like a mirror. There’s pain in her eyes, something hidden underneath that I’d like to think is the reason she’s holding up this hardened front. Something or someone has hurt this little girl, and now she’s contorted herself into a ball of piss and vinegar just to make it through the livelong day. God knows I understand that feeling. Sometimes putting up a front is the only way to survive.

She nails me with those day-glow eyes. Her hatred for me ramps up to unnatural levels, and I brace myself for the onslaught.

“You’re nothing but a heartless player who makes a game of landing girls in your bed, only to laugh at them later at their expense.” Her expression dims as if she’s checking out and heading to some faraway place. “And then you tell your buddies about it, and before you know it, the entire school pegs her as a cock-tease.”

“Is that what happened?” I’m no mathematical genius, but I sure as hell know one plus one equals the cock-tease in question.

Her lashes flutter in a series of rapid-fire blinks as she slams her laptop shut. “You know what? I completely forgot I have an appointment.” She swallows hard, stuffing her laptop back into her pricey leather bag, the color of butter. “If Wyatt asks, just tell him to call me.” She zips out the door as quick as she came. The scent of wildflowers straggles behind in her wake.

I was right. Something or someone smashed her heart to pieces, and now Piper is a spitfire ready to set the world in flames over one crooked look. And as much as it breaks my heart, she’s not my problem.

That dull ache in my gut says maybe she is.

Maybe I want her to be.

* * *

Piper doesn’t show up for the next three days, and since it’s just a four-day a week internship, she’s free to float through with an Owen-free weekend.

“A part of me wants to tell her brother, hell, tell Ryder or Bryson,” I say over a beer at the Black Bear Saloon. We’re seated far enough away from the bar for me to feel free to have this conversation with Jet and Rex. Jet’s a brilliant tattoo artist. He’s been tatting me up for the last few years. As soon as I hit a few extra dollars in my pocket, I made a beeline to his shop downtown. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for the women in my life, particularly the ones that pay to see me. Rex, I met through him. They grew up together, which strikes me as odd since Jet comes from the dicey side of the tracks and Rex has led as pampered a life as I had once. Rex is the quarterback on the football team here at Briggs. He’s the golden boy, and a part of me envies how easily it all seems to come for him.

“Dude,”—Rex pinches at his eyes—“it’s probably not you she’s running from. Look, you need that internship. Don’t rock the boat. If she doesn’t come back, that’s on her. You haven’t done a thing wrong.”

“You saved her ass.” Jet tips his beer to make the point. “She was ungrateful.”

“True.” Rex nods with a bounce. “Don’t think about her. She’s too much to deal with right now. You’ve got upper division classes coming up and, believe me, they are geared to kick your ass in the right way. This isn’t going to be easy. This is hardcore shit. You going to be okay working late nights?”

“I can swing it. Community college wasn’t a walk in the park either, but I somehow managed both.” Only Jet and Rex know what I truly do. The rest of the population knows me as a myriad of things related to my side business as the wingman of love, the matchmaker, the hook-up artist, and the breakupanator. I happen to take a likening to that last moniker since breakups are my specialty. If a guy approaches me with a couple hundred green dollars, I can make just about anything happen for him, with the exception of closing the deal. That’s up to him and his dick. I can lead a beautiful filly to water, but I can’t make her drink. I’ve done it all—landed the school nerd on a date with a cheerleader, wrote a hundred breakup texts, emails, scripts. You name the media, I’ve used its powers to stage a heart-wrenching goodbye, leaving the other party wishing she could keep her man for just another day. I specialize in letting them down easy, thus avoiding the usual catastrophe that follows. And most of those who utilize my services become repeat customers.

“Take a look around, boys. Point and click. I’ll make sure the choicest queen is yours for the night. Don’t worry about showing me the money. This one is on the house.” I lean back and soak in the estrogen-based scene as the tiny bar floods with beautiful women. One thing that has Hollow Brook Community College pegged to the wall is WB’s plethora of the hottest girls on the planet.

Jet and Rex are right. I need to reset my focus. Let Piper worry about Piper. My stomach churns as the thought bounces through my mind.

“Dude,”—Jet gives a light sock to my arm—“I’m not desperate to get laid. I’ve got girls lining up outside my shop paying to lie on my bed.”

“That’s because they’re getting tattoos,” I’m quick to point out.

“That might be, but that’s not the bed I’m talking about.”

“All right.” I click my bottle to the one Rex is holding. “How about you?”

“I’ve got a dozen cheerleaders from both our team and next week’s opponent sending me their seductive selfies.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through an amusing amount of provocative pictures.

“I didn’t know WB sold school-licensed lingerie.” I nod approvingly. “Very educational.”

A large group of people file in, mostly girls, and the three of us look up like hungry dogs.

Almost every single one of them, scratch that, every single one of them has their hair up in a ponytail, bright red lipstick smeared over their mouths, and a string of signature pearls that can only mean one thing—Aubree’s girls. That’s what they’ll always be to me. She lived and breathed that sorority—still does, even though they’ve clearly turned their back on her. Not one person has ever called or visited her, but then, I can’t say I blame them. Aubree used to be their queen, with hundreds of girls bowing down to kiss her proverbial shoes, and now she’s a pariah, more alone than she could have ever imagined. My heart breaks for her, and yet it sickens me that she took someone’s life. Her name was Stephanie Jones. She was Bryson’s best friend. I shake my head because it was Bryson’s now-wife that Aubree targeted last. She had a sick obsession with the guy. But he wasn’t interested, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

A gorgeous brunette catches my eye, and my stomach does a revolution. Piper. Her hair is up in the requisite ponytail. Her lips shine a delicious shade of cherry. No pearls, though. I suppose that’s the goal. She’s already talking to the douchebag that’s probably going to swallow my father’s hedge fund one day before he does time for the crime, and I scowl at him. Winston. What the hell kind of name is that? It makes me sick to watch Piper throwing herself at the idiot just to get the approval of that fucked-up sorority.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?” Jet struggles to follow my gaze.

“That’s her, three o’clock. That’s the dick she’s supposed to bag and tag as her own if she wants a bed in that insane asylum.”

“Oh, shit.” Rex shakes his head, laughing to himself.

“You know him?” I lean in, suddenly interested in where this might lead. I knew this guy was an asshole from the get-go.

“It’s you that I know, Owen. I wondered why you went on and on about her like some thirteen-year-old love-struck girl. She’s beautiful. Your dick is leading the way.” He offers a conciliatory pat on the back. “Face it. You’re too far gone to come back now.”

“No, no, no—not true. She’s the boss’s sister. Boss’s sisters are a hell no. Plus, she has an attitude. I’m all for a good time, but not with someone like that. I like them sweet, mewling in my ear like a kitten. That girl is all bark, and trust me—she’s got the fangs to back it up. Her brother was the first to admit it. There’s no way in hell I want a piece of that action.”

“No way in hell, huh?” Jet plunks down his beer. “I think what we have here is a classic case of duck-and-evade to save face.”

“Meaning?” I’m not amused with the mutiny the boys are providing. These two fools had my back when my own family kicked me to the curb, and tonight they’re relishing in the misgiving that I want that little girl running around in high heels pretending to be a vixen so she can land herself the valedictorian of the accounting department.

“Meaning you’re into her, but you’re afraid she’s not into you. This might just be the first girl to hand you your walking papers, and we get it. It sucks hairy balls. I know it. Rex knows it. Unlike you, we’ve both suffered rejection on occasion.”

“Speak for yourself.” Rex gives a shit-eating grin.

“It’s true.” Jet flips off Rex. “Face it, Owen. This girl is in the process of delivering a blow to your ego, and once you realize what’s happened, it’s going to feel like a nuke just melted your balls together. Just deal with it now. You’re into her. She’s not into you. It’s easy math with a shitty outcome. Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Club, my man.” He lands his meaty paw over my shoulder, and I bump him right off.

“It’s not true. I’m not into her,” I’m quick to refute, but there’s a hot stab in my gut that contests my words.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Jet plucks out that thick wad of green he keeps handy. Most of his clients pay in cash, which allows him the illegal privilege to report half of his income to Uncle Sam and literally pocket the rest. “You land Miss Priss in your bed tonight, and I’ll give you a thousand bucks. How’s that for a company bonus?” He muses. Both he and Rex were pretty impressed that Ryder’s start-up was willing to pony up so much for each new corporate account.

My gut cinches at the thought of thrusting into that gorgeous body, and I squeeze my eyes shut tight to flush out the image. “No way.”

Rex leans back, displeased. “That just proves my point. The Owen we know and love would have jumped at landing both a beautiful woman in his bed, and a beautiful grand in his wallet. If you don’t want to bang her on night one, you’re thinking too highly of her because you care.”

“Two thousand.” Jet leans in as the three of us inspect her.

“No.” This entire conversation is starting to irritate me. “Not for one, not for two. There’s no number high enough. And, trust me, I’m not upholding her virtue. She’s a fucking shrew. She’d chew my balls up and spit them out before I knew what happened. And I happen to be emotionally and physically attached my hairy ball sack, so the answer will always be no.”

“Okay, then I’m fucking her.” Rex knuckle bumps Jet. “Five hundred bucks says I’m pumping into her by midnight.”

“Would you stop?” I smack the shit out of their joyous high fives. “Nobody is pumping into her by midnight.”

Rex tilts his head with that disbelieving look again. “Admit that you have a thing for her, and I’ll lay off the Ice Princess for now.”

“You’ll lay off the Ice Princess forever. She’s off limits. I’m claiming her—and not to bed her. I’m protecting her from assholes like you.”

Jet groans as Winston wraps an arm around her waist like he owns her. “What about that asshole?”

I take in a mean breath. I’ll admit, it yanks my dick to see him touching her so intimately, especially knowing what I do regarding why she’s letting him.

“Okay, I’ll make this easy.” Jet pushes his wad of spare change closer to me. “If you can steal Little Miss Priss away from the frat brat—to protect her”—he and Rex exchange amused yet goofy grins—“I’ll give you the five grand anyway. Make her yours.”

“To protect her from that idiot?” Every muscle in my tired body jumps at the thought of having five grand to my name. I have a great job with even greater pay, but there used to be a line of what I’m willing to do for money, and somewhere along the way I’ve clearly crossed it.

“You can be the hero and score some cash.” Jet thumps his fistful of dollars onto the table. “Hell, you can even run around with a cape if you like.”

I glance to Piper. She has a nervous look in her eyes as Winston edges his body close to hers. Something in me desperately wants to protect her, wants to make sure that neither the demonic sorority she’s trying to score a bed in nor that idiot who’s just plain trying to score can hurt her.

“She won’t go for someone like me.” It stings to admit it. “She comes from money, and she wants her man to come from money, too.” I can read people, especially when it comes to what they think they want in someone else. It’s a gift I’ve been profiting from for the last few years. “I know her type. It used to be me.”

Rex slaps his paw over my shoulder. “You’re right, dude. And that’s where the challenge comes in. You’re good enough for her. Both you and I know that. But she’s a tough nut. You can’t crack ’em all.”

I scowl at him a moment. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You think you can do it?” Jet’s brows rise. “Five K is on the line.” He shakes his head as if I should consider this lunacy.

“You’re going to give me five K if I make that chick mine. Really?”

“Really.” Jet’s smile slides right off his face. He’s been closer than a brother. They both have—through all of my formidable bullshit, and now he’s willing to gift me five K to do what the two of them feel is impossible. “Make her your girlfriend.”

“I’m up for a challenge.” I knock back the rest of my beer and shake his catcher’s mitt of a hand. “I’m in. She’ll be mine in no time, and that tree trunk she’s trying to climb will be long gone by homecoming.”

Rex blinks back with disbelief. “That’s in a month.”

I cinch my cheek high and pin it as I observe the two of them across the room. They do look friendly. A little too friendly for my taste. “I’ll do it in half the time.”

Rex holds back a laugh. “There goes that ego again. All right, you have until homecoming. I’m being generous.”

“You think I’ll need the extra time, but I won’t. We’re dealing with an expert here, remember?”

“Okay, I’ll even up the ante. Six grand in a couple of weeks, a solid five in a month—either way, you’re about to get lucky.”

Rex shakes his head ever so slightly while studying Piper and that gasbag she’s attached herself to. “No, he’s not. Owen is right. She’s doing the sorority thing. She comes from money.” He looks to me. “She’s looking for a social climb, and you, my friend, were recently demoted. I know her type, too. We’re cut from the same cloth.”

My eyes can’t look away from Piper and those skintight jeans. “She can look past all that social bullshit.” My stomach wrenches because I’m not too sure she can.

A brisk knock erupts over the table. “What’s going on?”

We glance up to find Bryson delivering three fresh beers with a smile.

“On the house.” He nods to me. “You got a second? I’d love for you to meet Baya.”

“Yes.” I’m on my feet as the guys thank Bryson for the kind gesture. I follow him to the bar where a trio of girls stands laughing amongst themselves, one of which is my cousin Roxy, Ryder’s sister. She offers up a knuckle bump, and I meet her there. Roxy is a big sweetheart hiding under a tough exterior. She’s easy to spot, with her bright red hair and big bright eyes. She has a successful baking business that she runs from her apartment, Sprinkles Cupcakes. I’ve been meaning to stop by and down a few dozen, especially now that we’re in the same building.

“Get over here!” Roxy pulls me in tight. “Damn, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too.” I pull back and look to Bryson.

“Owen, you know Laney, Ryder’s wife.”

Oh, shit. I went to their wedding, and here I hardly recognized her in the low-lit bar with the all the noise and bodies pumping around us.

“Yes, of course. You were a beautiful bride by the way, as were you.” I recognize Baya. Ryder and Bryson had a double wedding. I was pretty choked up watching Baya walk down the aisle, especially since my sister almost made sure it didn’t happen. I still can’t fathom how she can have so little disregard for human life. Baya is a person who deserves to breathe every single breath God gives her, just like Stephanie did. My heart aches for the entire Jones family.

“Thank you.” Baya’s face contorts to a gripping sadness. “Can I give you a hug?”

“Yes.” I can barely get the word out through the brick lodged in my throat. Baya wraps her arms around me, and I hold her tight for a moment, probably too tight, but I can’t help it. I’m sorry for all the pain, all the heartache Aubree has caused. I wish there was some way to wipe it all away.

She pulls back with fresh tears in her eyes. “You are a sweetheart. I don’t have anything against you. In fact, I wish you all the success in the world.”

Roxy step in and wraps her arms around my shoulder. “I told them about the bullshit your family is putting you through. You know that your dad is just taking a cue from my old man. Only mine was kind enough to get Ryder and me through school before cutting us off. Are you doing okay? I’ve tried calling and texting, but you’re doing the I’m-not-getting-your-messages thing.”

That’s my favorite part about Roxy—she’s a no-bullshit zone. And she’s right. I’ve been avoiding any and all extended family for years, partly because I’ve got too much pride to take a handout and partly because I’m damn ashamed of what my branch of the family has done. My mother and Roxy’s father are siblings, but it’s no secret my father has been paying attention to how they raise their children. I’ve heard a million times how the Capwells have managed to raise decent kids who aren’t panning out to be a burden on taxpayers for the rest of their lives. As soon as he said that, I knew I didn’t want any government handout to help me along the way. I know the dig was meant for Aubree and the lifelong prison sentence under her belt, but I felt the sting and disappointment more than she ever could.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can manage. “How about we hang out sometime? I’m at Briggs now—just landed in your building, in fact, and I’ll be here more than you’ll ever care to see me.”

“Done. We’ll catch up.”

“Cool.” Our little group disbands.

I glance around the room for Piper, and my eyes snag on an unwelcome sight. Winston’s hands keep gravitating to her hips, and she keeps rerouting him to her waist, but he’s enjoying the slip. Too bad he’s playing it all wrong. That’s one thing I tell my boys when they’re desperate to get laid—act like you don’t really need it. Act like you’re the one doing them a favor. And for fuck’s sake, don’t accost the girl. I speed over with my cock on fire, ready and willing to beat this asshole’s head in if he touches her any lower and, shit—his hands glide right over her curves in an aggressive revolution. I snatch a half-full glass off an abandoned table, ready to initiate what’s quickly becoming my signature move. Only this time I don’t bother doing the traditional bump and dump. This time I fling it all in his face.

He jumps back, wheezing, inspecting the damage to his silk suit and tie. And who the hell wears an Italian suit to a bar? Another reason she shouldn’t be hanging out with this idiot. He’s suspicious in every capacity.

“Oh my God! Are your parents siblings?” Piper slices my throat with a mean look before making a lame attempt to mop him up with his already saturated tie. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Winston nods to me. “I advise that next time you be more careful. Excuse me.” He ducks into the crowd and heads for the bathroom.

Piper spins into me. Her hair fans out like dark flames, her eyes already lit with fire. She lets out a riotous roar right in my face, and I stand steady, unflinching because I know for a fact Jet and Rex are watching the entire exchange.

Pay attention, boys—I’m about to show you how it’s done.

“I knew that was your stupid shtick!” She slaps at my chest a few times. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” Her jaw pops as she shouts the words, her pretty cherry-stained lips round out in a pout, and I’m dying to land my mouth over them—to impress the boys, of course. I nod at this misnomer I’m begging myself to buy into because the alternative, the very thought of me wanting this temperamental hellion makes my balls want to shrivel up in fear.

“That was me doing you a favor.”

She strikes her hand across my face so hard half the bar pauses in awe of her backhanded expertise. I’ll admit, it takes a talent to smack like that. The entire left side of my face is on fire.

Piper gets in close, nose-to-nose, her anger so ripe it’s thermal. “That was me doing you a favor. Get over yourself, Owen. Find another coed to manipulate into your bed!” She takes off to the hearty applause of the ponytail republic.

I turn back and spot both Jet and Rex shaking their heads like a couple of mournful motherfuckers.

I’ll prove them wrong, or in a Shakespearean turn of events I’ll prove myself wrong. Nope, that’s not going to happen. I need Little Miss Priss’s body to conform to mine, willingly, of course, and that blissful union will lead to a hefty boost to my bank account. My stomach goes rancid at the thought. Hell, I’d tame that shrew for nothing.

It’s getting late so I leave straight for work, and all I see, all I think about is Piper.

Hot damn, if Jet and Rex weren’t right about this one. And they were wrong about one thing. I’m not as infallible as I might have led them to believe—I’ve hit a wall or two of stinging rejection.

But my entire body begs for it not to come from Piper. I’ve seen where rejection landed my sister, and because of it I have no intention on ever chasing the ever-elusive tail of love. Not going to happen. I’m not interested in the insanity, the madness that fairy tales can lead to. No thank you. I have no problem landing girls in my bed and kicking them right back out once we’re through. I’ve never heard a complaint, and I’m a strong subscriber of the old adage, if it’s not broke, don’t fix it.

Piper James has stained my brain, and I can’t seem to evict her. The thought of that firecracker committing—submitting to a relationship with me does seem a bit farfetched.

I give my truck a quick slap before hopping inside.

It’s game on. Piper James is landing in my bed sooner than her wild self can ever imagine.

This isn’t about the money.

This is personal.