caused trouble at the bar if men showed me too much attention.
I looked down at my ratty jeans and tennis shoes then tugged on the front of my hoodie. “You think this will inspire men to make passionate love to me?”
“Jesus, Skylar,” Josh grumbled, “fifteen-year-old in the room. I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”
I looked back at my baby brother. “You haven’t been fifteen since you were ten. Now get moving,” I ordered through gritted teeth.
“You should wash your face,” Jake continued, crossing his arms and glaring, looking so much like our father it physically hurt to look at him. “You’re just asking for trouble, and you know it.”
I threw my hands up and headed for the kitchen. I was done arguing with them. They needed something in their stomachs before we left. That’s what mothers did, or in my case: replacement mother, before driving you to school. They fed you. So, I grabbed a loaf of bread and threw a couple of slices in the toaster in hopes they’d let it go.
“She looks like a girl,” Josh said low, still not getting his rear end in gear.
“I am a girl, in case that escaped your notice,” I spat back. “Are you moving yet?”
Josh ignored me, yet again, and kept at it. “More than a girl, Jake, but a snack. We can’t have guys looking at her like that.”
Like a what?
I tumbled that comment around in my brain and smiled. “You think I look hot?” I hollered. “Josh, that’s just sick. I’m your sister, Bro.”
“Shut up,” he growled, finally stomping off, his face flushed with embarrassment.
Note to self: embarrass brothers daily to get their butts in gear.
Their grumblings finally faded down the hall until I heard two doors slam shut. I looked at my reflection in the toaster and sighed, then wet a paper towel and wiped the eye shadow and lip gloss off, leaving the mascara alone so I didn’t look like a racoon. My eyes were light green and did most of the work drawing attention to my face. Eye shadow was overkill, and I knew it. My father used to call me the girl next door because he didn’t think I needed makeup to catch a man’s eye. I thought he was nuts, every woman looked better with a little color on her face. But my brothers were right; if I drew too much attention at the bar Ty would become possessive and cause a scene.
I made a quick sandwich to take with me to work after I buttered their toast, then I had to hunt down my cell phone and charger. Unlike most twenty-somethings, I didn’t have it attached at my hip at all times. For one, my best friend worked at the bar with me, so I talked to her every day. And secondly, no one ever called me, so why bother? Since we were on a budget, I didn’t have a smartphone with all the bells and whistles to keep me occupied. In fact, all three of us, to the utter humiliation of my brothers, had talk and text only. If I needed access to the internet, I got on the computer at home or at work, so my phone barely got a passing thought once I put it down.
I started throwing pillows off our couch and checking down the back for my phone, when I didn’t find it I began tearing the living room apart, cursing because we were going to be late. It rang from across the room moments later. Turning toward the sound, I found it resting on the edge of the mantel. Picking it up, I noted the number flashing across the screen and smiled.
“Thank you,” I shouted at Jake.
Five minutes after that, we were out the door and in the only vehicle we owned. A white, 2005 Ford pickup. It got us from point A to point B on a wing and a prayer, was harder than heck to find in a snowstorm, but we didn’t have a payment. Which was good. What was left of my father’s life insurance was sitting in a CD, hopefully earning decent interest, so both of my brothers could go to college. If Jake got a full-ride football scholarship, then we were golden. We just had to get through his senior year without any serious injuries.
The drive into town took twenty-five minutes. We normally used that time to go over schedules, so everyone was on the same page. Ennis played their