Breaking Bro Code (The Line Up #4) - Misti Murphy Page 0,8
Salt and pepper.”
“Got it,” I retort. It’s habit more than anything. He overdoes everything and I act like he’s a pain in the ass. Our relationship has always been a little different from most siblings. Hud is my brother, but he was also my mother and my father for the majority of my life. He was the one who made sure I ate and bathed and did my homework.
I find plates and cutlery in the cabinets and then collect the assorted condiments we’ll need from the pantry.
“Do you want some help?” Vale’s voice is so close to my ear that his breath stirs my hair and goose bumps prickle my skin.
After I finish having my heart attack, I turn around. “Was that necessary? You scared the crap outta me.”
“Sorry.” He stares down at me, inside the confined space of the pantry. And then he leans in.
It’s awkwardly intimate. He’s too close. And he smells too pretty. Like sugar and spice. I inhale the scent like I’m asthmatic and he’s my inhaler. For old time’s sake, because these days I’m over my silly crush. The idea of kissing him doesn’t even cross my mind. Those firm but supple lips don’t affect my wits whatsoever anymore. The thought doesn’t make saliva pool in my mouth.
Fine, maybe I’m still thirsting after him a little bit. A smidge.
Because, yes, I grew up, but so did he. What is it with men getting hotter as they get older?
Yep, I need to look away. Look up. Or down. Oh shit, he flexes his pecs like a douche. He’s totally being a bro. It’s not hot at all. Okay, maybe a teensy bit hot. I don’t want to put my hands on them to feel that movement.
Thankfully my hands are full of containers and sauce bottles so I can’t do anything like lose my wits. Pasting my best impression of a glare on my face, I ask, “Did you seriously flex at me?”
He smirks, no teeth, all attitude.
It helps bring everything into perspective. Vale Westerly is not the kind of guy you take home to meet your mother. Not that I would ever introduce him to my mother. God knows I haven’t seen much of her since I was a child. But that’s not the point. Point is I’m not swayed by his pretty face and that tight, muscular, incredibly perfect body anymore.
“What is wrong with you?”
He frowns. “What is wrong with me? You’re the one acting weird.”
He doesn’t know that I had a crush on him for the longest time. At least I don’t think he knew. He never said anything and I’m certainly not going to ask. He has absolutely no clue that I have a thing for the unattainable. Or that he’s like the Batman of Impossible to Attain. All grumpy and gruff. He’d probably look great in leather and a cape too. And he blends into the shadows before anyone can get their hooks in.
He probably thinks he’s easy to get. For me he’s the definition of forbidden fruit. And boy do I want a taste.
I blame my parents and their lack of attention. What else could it be? Because I’m not an idiot. In fact, I’d go as far as to say I’m somewhat intelligent. So I know, having been acquainted with the man in front of me since I was a kid, that if there is one person who likes the idea of dating less than I do, it’s him.
Honestly, I’d just sleep with him if that was an option. A one and done shot at getting him out of my system would probably do the trick. Oh, who am I kidding? It would have to be at least twice. Three times? Half a dozen of the best sex-capades known to man? And that’s the rub. Besides the fact that sleeping with my brother’s best friend is out on a familial level, I’m worried this crush of mine would grow out of control. So no, I can’t sleep with him. Which means thinking about him the way I sometimes do is a complete waste of time.
Well, maybe it’s not a complete waste. I’ve had some enjoyable late night experiences thanks to my wayward imagination. Anyway… “Don’t flex at me like I’m one of your little groupies.”
He chuckles. “You used to love the pec dance.”
I snap my mouth shut and internally grimace. I did, didn’t I? Damn it. I rebalance the items in my hands. “Sorry. I guess I grew out of