Pull You In (Rivers Brothers #3) - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,62

his siblings, their women, the Mallicks and their women, about the crazy things that could happen at get togethers.

He did it with warmth and humor, telling stories so vivid that I felt like I was there, but without the social anxiety I would feel if I was.

"They have bets on us now," he added, making my fork pause on its way to my mouth.

"What?"

"Mark makes pools. For everything. Genders of babies. Whose kid is going to rebel the hardest. Which of the women will object first to a no-shave November. And, most of all, which couples would get together and when. They're betting on us right now."

"How do they even know about me?"

"Fee. King. Don't worry, they don't gossip, just mention shit. Apparently, the whole Mallick clan knew she'd trapped us together in the woods—and why—before we ever figured it out."

"God, that feels like forever ago," I admitted, feeling like so much had happened since. But, I guess, when your life is as uneventful as mine had been since, well, forever, these little dramas that had been a part of my life the past few weeks felt like a lot.

"I regret answering that phone sometimes," he admitted, shaking his head. "I think if we had one more night, things would have happened organically."

"Maybe," I agreed. "But I think you would have been even more angry when you found out about the calls if that had happened."

"Possibly," he admitted. "For the record, I don't regret those calls or anything like that. I just wish I'd have understood why there had been a reaction with you when there hadn't been with someone else."

"I was so lonely," I admitted, gaze slipping to the table. "And I was too insecure to tell you I had a little thing for you."

"Just a little one?" Rush asked, reaching across the table to tap his fingers over my knuckles.

"Well, like, you were unattainable," I said. "So it couldn't be a big crush. Just the sort of far-away admiration people feel toward celebrities kind of thing."

"Think it's much better now that I can do this," he said, sliding his fingers between mine.

"Yes," I agreed, lips curving up. "Much better."

"You want dessert?"

"Do you?" I asked, watching as his eyes went from warm to molten.

"Oh, I can go for a little dessert," he told me. "But they're not serving what I'm hungry for here. Or, he went on, not wanting to pressure me. "We can go get some coffee and donuts, then each go home to our separate places," he said, though I swear it sounded like genuine pain in his voice at the idea.

Pain.

Over the idea of not sleeping with me.

"Take me home with you," I suggested, letting my fingers squeeze his a bit.

THIRTEEN

Kate

I know I had carefully arranged my room to accommodate having company. And, in a way, I might have been more comfortable in my own space, around my own creature comforts.

That said, I was curious about Rush's place.

So we left Famiglia and turned in the other direction from the way that would lead back to my place, heading instead to a nicer apartment building than mine.

It was a four-story-stucco building with black window casings and black balconies, giving it a more sleek, modern look.

The main areas inside were noticeably sparse as all apartment buildings were, but meticulously clean.

Rush lived on the top floor, nestled in the back corner.

"I'm half-expecting model cars lining the walls," I joked as he unlocked the door.

What I found, instead, was a neutral gray color scheme, lighter on the walls, darker on the sectional. The cabinets and tables were all black. The walls didn't host pictures of his family, but rather, large canvases.

"These are lovely," I told him, walking over toward a wall of canvases, finding muted colors—black, gray, deep blue, hints of green—showing various different landscapes. Some looked to be from the States, others were decidedly not.

"Atlas," Rush explained.

"The brother who never stays in town for long?"

"That's the one. He comes home and makes us some drawings of the places he's seen."

"He should sell these."

"He's been told," Rush agreed. "Repeatedly. He's a stubborn-ass. No ambition either. He just wants to explore and then show us what he saw. Then disappear again. Before you ask," Rush went on, shooting me a smirk, "No. Art is not a family trait. The rest of us can't draw for shit. No one ever wants to be on my team for Pictionary," he added, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked boyish and bashful. As