Leighton smiles as she hands my client a receipt. Then a pen.

She presses her palms into the counter, leans forward, squeezes her arms to push her tits together.

She always does this shit.

Usually, I shrug it off.

Today, it’s making my jaw crick.

My fingers curl into fists. Words form on my tongue. Keep your eyes to yourself, asshole.

As far as clients go, this guy is great. Receptive to my ideas. Honest when he needs a break. Good at keeping still.

But I want to deck the motherfucker and tell him to keep his money.

He could be the guy who has Leighton’s heart.

It could be anyone.

Fuck, she looks good today. Hot pink sundress with a black dinosaur print. Lacy black bra peeking out from the neckline. Purple hair in that perfect straight line.

Purple makeup bringing out the green in her eyes.

Berry lips drawing every ounce of my attention.

The guy chuckles at some compliment. “Me too.” He pushes his shirt up his shoulder, showing off his now finished sleeve.

Leighton giggles. Leans in to whisper in his ear.

He nods. Scribbles a tip. Signs on the dotted line. Writes something below it.

His phone number.

I bite my tongue.

This is part of her job.

She’s better than it. But we all have to stoop to shitty stuff sometimes. It’s part of making ends meet.

No matter how badly I want to punch this asshole, I’m not going to steal her tip money.

The customer turns back to me. He offers his hand. “Thanks, dude. It’s perfect.”

I shake. Nod no problem.

He leans in to whisper. “Put in a good word for me with the babe with purple hair.”

“Can’t.”

“Cruel.”

“She’s my girl.” The words are unpracticed. But they’re easy on my tongue. Natural.

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t realize.” He shrugs at me. “Sorry.”

She smiles that wide nothing is a problem customer service smile. “Keep it our secret.” She winks.

His chuckle is nervous. “Forgive me enough to do my next one?”

“Yeah.”

He nods sweet then makes his way to the door. The bell rings. It nearly screams the asshole is gone.

Leighton’s tits fall forward as she leans over the counter. “Can you believe that guy? Apologizing to you for wanting to ask me out? Like I’m your property or something?”

“Asshole.”

“Not with the times.” Her eyes find mine. “Are you really pissed about that?”

No. I’m worse. I’m pissed he’s looking at my girl when she isn’t even mine. “You’re gonna pop out of that dress.” I try to make it matter of fact, but it’s not. It’s weird, her on display. Inviting in a way it shouldn’t be.

“Sorry. Next time, I’ll wear something that will get you less than a thirty percent tip.” She waves the receipt like it’s a first-place ribbon.

“My talent had nothing to do with it?”

“It’s canceled out by your attitude.”

“Not everybody wants to chat.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dean steps into the lobby. “What did I hear about Leigh’s tits?”

She rolls her eyes. “Why are you always here to offer commentary?”

“Your tits.” He makes a show of leering at her chest. “Why else?”

She cocks her hips to one side. “Don’t you have clients?”

He motions to the clock. “Ten minutes until my next appointment. Enough time to talk you into keeping ‘em on display.”

“You couldn’t talk me into a cup of French roast with extra half-and-half.” She sighs in the direction of the Keurig. Waves at the coffee maker like it’s her favorite thing in the entire world.

I slide my hand into my pocket. Wrap my fingers around my cell. The shit on it is good news. But it still makes my throat tighten.

I look to my younger brother. Raise a brow you mind?

He folds his arms. Yeah, I do.

I ignore him. Take three steps to the counter. Until my thighs are pressed against the black plastic.

I pull my cell from my pocket. Pull up my texts. “It worked.”

I show her the display.

Penny: Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Leighton?

Ryan: I didn’t?

Penny: I always thought you’d be good together. Frank and I are going to a cake tasting Saturday morning. You should join us. Make it a double date.

Leighton’s eyes stay glued to the screen. “She thought we’d be good together? What the hell is that?”

Passive aggressive bullshit. “It’s what we’re going for, yeah?”

Dean clears his throat. He’s still standing behind me.

“Yeah?” I keep my back to him.

He moves forward. Until he’s next to me. “Leigh, tell me you’re not.”

She looks to him. “You already know the answer.”

“You’re smarter than this,” he says.

She motions to me. He’s right here.

“Fuck this. I’m not gonna be the voice of reason. Ruin your lives if you want,” he says.

Leighton’s eyes turn down. She presses her lips together, fighting a frown.

I hate the frustration in her brow.

I want to wipe it away.

I want to destroy all the pain in her life.

But that isn’t different. She’s my best friend. I’ve wanted the world for her for a long time.

This isn’t changing shit.

It’s just not.

I turn to my brother. Find the first change of topic I can. “We need to hire help.”

Dean shakes his head. “What about the dozen artists you rejected?”

“What about them?” I ask.

He laughs. “Half of them were better than you.”

“No.” Some of them were good, but none of them were better than me. No one takes their shit as seriously as I do.

“All right. But they were plenty good.”

“And?” I ask.

“You’re transparent.” He turns to Leighton. “Isn’t he?”

She shrugs. “All four of you turn down appointments. You need to hire more help.”

“Set up some appointments,” I say.

“Sure. But I’m holding you to hiring someone.” Dean turns. Looks to Walker, who’s currently in the middle of a back piece. “You eavesdropping, Williams?”

The hum of his gun ceases. He whispers something to his client. Then said client pushes himself up with a thank fuck for the break sigh and moves to the bathroom.

Walker stands. Moves into the lobby. Studies the three of us like he’s an anthropologist encountering an entirely new civilization.

His dark eyes fix on Dean. “What did you do?”

“Ryan wants to hire help,” Dean says.

Walker shakes his head. “Bullshit. Ryan turned down every artist on the Westside.”

“You for this plan?” Dean asks.

“Hell yeah.” Walker runs his hand through his dark hair. “I don’t want to keep working while Iris is off.”

“Don’t you need money?” Dean asks.

“I’m gonna be a trophy husband once she gets her PhD,” he says.

“In, what, five more years?” Dean asks.

“About that,” Walker says.

Leighton shakes her head. “I’m not letting her date a loser.”

“It’s gonna be for her.” He leans against the half-wall to his suite. “So I can cook her dinner every night.”

“And eat her out the second she gets home,” Dean suggests.

Walker laughs. “Great fucking idea.” He pulls out his cell. Smiles as he taps a text to his girlfriend.

“You need dirty talking tips from Dean?” Leighton sits on her stool. Crosses her legs. “Sad.”

Walker raises a brow. “Twenty bucks says I can make you wet in under a minute.”

“You can’t.” Her pupils dilate as she tugs at her dress.

“That’s a challenge.” He stares into her eyes. “Now I’m gonna have to fill you in on every dirty detail of what I did to Iris last night.”

“What did you…” She clears her throat. “Not interested.”

“Bullshit,” he says.

Leighton blushes. Stammers her way to a response. “No comment.”

“Drop it,” I say.

She pulls her dress down her legs. But that only pulls it down her chest.

Shows off more of her lacy black bra.

Walker looks to me. Raises a brow. “What are you all pissed about?”

“He’s an idiot,” Dean says. “That’s the crux of the issue.”

“Strong words from Dean.” Walker looks from his best friend, to me, to Leighton, back to me. “You all right, Ryan? By your standards?”

“Don’t talk to my girl like that.” The words are still easy on my tongue. Even though it’s a million times weirder calling Leighton my girl to Walker.

“Your girl?” Walker’s gaze goes to Leighton. “You and Ryan…”

She nods. Presses her lips together.

I shoot her a look. Play along.

She nods of course.

Walker’s expression screws with confusion. “Did I step into a time warp to April Fool’s Day?”

Dean looks to me. “Really?”

I nod yeah.

He turns to Walker. “Penny’s getting married. Ryan told her he has a girlfriend. So Leighton volunteered.”

“This is the kinda shit you’d crucify me and Dean for,” he says.

She presses her lips together. “So?”

“What’s the point of making your ex jealous?” Walker looks to me. “You’re better than that.”

“Nah. He’s not. But at least he’s gonna do it right.” Dean jumps in. “You’re gonna whip it out on the dance floor, show her what she’s missing.” He motions to his crotch. “Massive cocks run in the family.” He winks.

She laughs. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Dean makes a show of scratching his head. “Not following.”

“You’re gonna have to break it down for him, word by word,” Walker teases.

Her tits shake as she laughs. “You’re always going on about how virile—”

“Virile? Babe, you know I only read at a third-grade level,” Dean teases.

“You do not.” She slides off the stool. Adjusts the dress. Her eyes catch mine for a second then they’re on Dean. “You’re always talking about your cock. Like you’re compensating for something.”

“Babe, you bait me so well.” He blows her a kiss. Reaches for his zipper. “Let me prove it.” He unbuttons his jeans. “Take out those tits. I’ll be hard like that—” He snaps his fingers.

She presses her arm to her stomach, doubling over with laughter.

I don’t get it.

She and Dean are always flirting like this. He’s always being disgusting. She’s always pretending to hate it, but smiling anyway.

She says he’s not Mr. Powers.

But he must be.

The way she laughs with him—

I’ve never been jealous of my brother before. But this—

My fingers curl into fists. When I close my eyes, I see red. I want to hurt someone. Anyone who’s ever hurt her.

I’m not this guy.

I don’t get pissed like this.

Dean is a fucking slut, yeah. But he’s a good guy, deep down. He’ll treat Leighton well.

If he is Mr. Powers, I’m gonna have to find a way to be okay with that.

“I hate to be the Ryan, but Greg doesn’t want to see your dick.” Walker motions to the bathroom in the back.

“All right. Let’s go to my suite.” Dean winks at Leigh. “You can give me a little manual help.”

“You make it sound so enticing,” she teases back.

“I’ll reciprocate.” He falls to his knees. Presses his hands together. “You know I dream about making you come.”

“You do not.” She laughs. “You don’t want to fuck me.”

“Leigh, how could you say that.” He tugs at the waist of his jeans. “Come with me. See how massive my desire for you is—”

“All right. I’m out. I’m gonna ask Iris to explain it to me.” Walker turns and moves into his suite.

Leighton’s still shaking her head at Dean.

Still smiling at his crude advances.

Not that I can talk.

I said a lot dirtier shit to Penny.

But Leighton claims she finds Dean repulsive.

Is she sparing my feelings?

Worried I’ll buy into that blood is thicker than water bullshit and rat her out to my brother?

It has to be him.

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

The bell rings as the door swings open. A short woman with long hair steps inside. She looks to Dean, who’s still kneeling on the floor, and laughs. “You’re always in a compromising position.”

He jumps to his feet. “Sounds like an invitation.”

She laughs.

He motions to his suite, then follows her into it.

Leighton’s eyes find mine. Her cheeks stay pink. Her smile stays wide.

“Sorry you got cunt-blocked.” I try to unpeel my shoulders from my ears, but it’s a struggle.

She sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Ew.”

“You don’t have to bullshit me.”

“No. It’s…” She presses her fingers to the counter. Stares at her black fingernails. “I’m your girlfriend. There’s not gonna be anyone else.”

“If you’re into him—”

“I’m not.”

“I won’t tell him.”

“I know. It’s someone else.” There’s something in her eyes. She’s hiding something.

It must be her lust for Dean.

What the fuck else could it be?

She picks up my cell—it’s still sitting on the counter. “You mind?”

“It’s got a password.”

“I know it.”

I arch a brow.

“Sorry. I spy.” She punches in the code—the date we officially bought the shop—unlocks my phone, and pulls up Penny’s texts.

She taps a reply.

Perfect. Tell me where and when.

She looks to me. “Okay?”

No. This isn’t even close to okay.

But it’s necessary.

I nod.

She taps send.

A moment later, my cell buzzes with an address.

I’m gonna help my ex pick out her wedding cake.

Fan-fucking-tastic.