Breaking Bro Code (The Line Up #4) - Misti Murphy Page 0,14

me carry them back to the table.

“I have news,” I say, distributing our drinks. “Gladstone called this afternoon.”

“What did he say?” Kiki bounces on her toes and claps. She’s effervescent at the best of time, but throw liquor into the mix and she turns into a bubble. This time it’s warranted.

“They loved our proposal.” My face splits wider than Van Damme’s legs. “We start in two weeks.”

“We’re going to California.” Lewis raises his beer overhead. “Here’s to taking over the world with my favorite girl duo.”

We’re one step closer to opening our own business, and making the career I always dreamed about a reality and it feels so good. Kiki squeals and launches herself at me. Lewis scoops us both into a bear hug.

One last round turns into two more after that before Trix drags Lewis out of La Drink. Kiki, Dalton, and Teller say goodbye and pile into an Uber.

I head toward the L, Chicago’s rapid transport system. La Drink isn’t far from the line I take to and from the office.

Stopping at a 7-Eleven, I get myself a blueberry Slurpee and a Big Bite and then take them both to the register along with a bottle of Tylenol and Gatorade for tomorrow’s hangover.

Sipping my Slurpee, I almost run into Vale on the pavement.

He’s wearing his usual work gear. Steel capped boots, tight jeans, and the even tighter black T-shirt with the Line ‘Em Up logo that hugs his biceps like I wish I could. His hair is roughed up, probably by some girl that isn’t me while she ran her hands through his glossy caramel locks. There’s more than the usual amount of scruff on his jaw.

He looks even better when I’m drunk. It’s probably why I want to grab his head and noogie him until it’s no longer possible to tell that someone besides me mussed up his hair.

He doesn’t seem to notice me as he brushes past. His blue eyes are clouded with concentration. Unfocused. Hyper focused.

He isn’t wearing those Clark Kent glasses I find wickedly distracting. I may or may not have had a thousand fantasies about sliding them off his face right before leaning in for a searing kiss. I shake off the immediate visceral reaction those images cause. So hot. “Vale?”

“Lily?” He stops in his tracks. Turns around. “What are you doing here?”

“Hungry.” I raise my hotdog, side step out of the way of another person trying to get inside the convenience store and almost twist my ankle in the process. I chuckle as I regain my balance. I’m totally a boss bitch. “You?”

“Coffee.” He shuffles his fingers through his hair, leaving tracks where he’s clearly done that more times than is warranted. His stomach growls as he eyeballs my hotdog and Slurpee combo. “But that looks good.”

I stick the end in my mouth and bite off a, ha, big bite. “It is.”

“Shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, Lil,” he teases me, no longer focused on whatever was bothering him.

I don’t mind. It’s good. Hud’s been worried about him for a while now. Doesn’t say it, but it’s pretty obvious when my brother is brothering people.

“Really?” I open and shut my mouth as I chew. I know it’s gross, but boy humans are different from us girls. This is part of our love language. Okay, I might be drunk. We don’t have a love language, though I do adore the big lug as much as I love my brother. But in a completely different way where I want to get dirty and sweaty and find out what’s in his pants.

“Are you drunk, Lil?” He studies me with curiosity and a touch too much seriousness.

“No.” I burp. “No, not at all.” I touch the end of my Big Bite to my nose while I lift one foot then the other. “Not even tipsy.”

He can’t stop the smirk that lightens his face as he brushes his finger over the top of my nose. Showing me the tip of his finger, which is now yellow, he says, “You’ve got a little mustard.”

A normal person would say, oh right, and thank him while double checking that he got it all. Not me. No, my first reaction is that he’s stealing my mustard and I must get it back at any cost. I lurch forward and suck the condiment off the top of his finger. Flick my tongue over the thick, blunt tip. “Thanks.”

“Okay, then.” His brows are somewhere under his floppy hair line as he wipes his