Breaking Bro Code (The Line Up #4) - Misti Murphy Page 0,25

to get together. Make babies. Get married. I guess an electrician who is twice my age wouldn’t be the worst guy to find myself in a relationship with.

“Who’s texting you?” Vale’s fingers work the controller in his hand rapidly as he fires off another combo aimed at taking my character Starfire out. His knee bounces.

I love the way he gets so into the game. His competitiveness. The way his jeans snuggle his thighs. The way his fingers seem to caress those buttons so perfectly that I can’t help but imagine what they would feel like on my button. But I don’t have time to obsess about them now. It’s time to destroy him.

“No one.” I have moves he’s never seen before. Okay, that might be going too far, but I don’t go easy on his Batman either. We don’t play to humor each other. This is survival of the best player.

“Seems like no one is eager to talk to you.” On screen Batman falls to my superhero Starfire. “Damn it.”

“The student becomes the master,” I crow as my phone beeps again. I’m going to have to find a new electrician for my next local project. I can’t imagine facing Hairy Walt now that we’ve seen each other in such an unprofessional manner.

“Want to get that?” Vale tosses his controller on the coffee table and picks up our empty sundae bowls as another message has my phone chirping again. “I’ll take care of these dishes.”

I follow him into the kitchen and put the coffee pot on. It’s still too early for him to concede defeat. More than likely we’ll end up playing best out of five and then best out of ten. If he’s really lucky I’ll let him win five rounds and we’ll come a draw.

I open my inbox to find a couple of messages from Hud.

“My brother’s checking up on how we’re doing,” I tell Vale. “You think I should tell him about us?”

The sundae glass he was holding falls into the hot soapy water in the sink with a clank. “Us?”

“Yeah.” I waggle my eyebrows, teasingly. “About how you wanted to get me out of my clothes.”

“Lily. Christ.” He forgets about the dishes in the sink and wipes his hands on a dishrag. “I thought you should be wearing more clothes.”

“I’m aware.” That’s precisely the reason I’m giving him hell over it. Well, that and I want to push his buttons, because he’s jumpy and snarly and more than a little on edge, and I’m starting to form a theory.

I could be wrong. Perhaps I’m way off base, but my theory goes a little something like this… men turn into insufferable knobs when they’re not getting their way. What does that have to do with this situation we’re currently in? A lot, if you also consider the fact that he snapped at the guy at the bar who was long distance flirting with me and growled at that poor guy who lost his sandwich fillings when I took off my jacket. I have a theory that Vale Westerly wants something, or someone, he can’t have. Now, all I have to do is prove it.

“You said as much while you turned into a green-eyed monster.”

“That’s not what—"

“Uh-uh.” I waggle a finger at him. “I don’t think so. You’ve been weird tonight. Insisting my clothes are indecent. Growling at people who look at me wrong like you’re some kind of-of barbarian hulk.”

“I always do that,” he grumbles and tosses the dishtowel he used to dry his hands on the counter.

“No.” I press my lips together and step back as he comes nearer. “That’s Hud. He always does that. You normally back me up when he’s being overbearing.”

“You don’t normally turn up to dinner naked.” He huffs in frustration. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do to me.”

“You think I’m trying to do something to you?” I lead like a detective. I’m close now. He’s crumbling like a fine feta.

He grabs the collar of his T-shirt and stretches it away from his throat. “I don’t know. Aren’t you? You kissed me the other night. Not the other way around.”

“Uh-huh. I knew you were acting weird because of the other night.”

“Well, what did you expect?” His chest heaves and he grips his hair. “You told me you wanted me to see you naked.”

“I was drunk.” Apparently I grow a major pair when I’ve had enough tequila.

“Were you drunk two minutes ago, when you suggested I wanted to get you out of