Wrapped Up in You - Jill Shalvis Page 0,57

in her bed, and the adrenaline rush of her brother’s untimely arrival.

Brandon.

Of course he’d shown up when he had. Because he’d made it his lifelong mission to make her life as difficult as possible.

Kel had instantly recognized she’d been telling tall tales about her brother. He’d been kind enough—or pissed off enough—not to press the issue right then. But he’d swing back to it later, she was quite certain.

Or maybe not. Maybe he’d decide to wash his hands of the crazy chick. She certainly wouldn’t blame him.

Having no choice but to regroup and face one problem at a time, she drew a deep breath and turned to her brother.

“Sleeping with a cop? You’ve stepped up in the world.”

“Why are you here?”

He cocked his head. “It was interesting to see the way you look at him though, when you don’t think he’s noticing. He makes you happy. Not a look I’ve seen on you much.”

“He and I barely know each other,” she said. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Happy’s good, Ivy,” Brandon said quietly, voice genuine. “It’s not easy to find, not for people like us.”

“It’s not like that,” she said.

“Hey, whatever you say.”

She was not in the mood for this. Only a little bit ago, she’d been in Kel’s arms with him deep inside her, reminding her what passion and hunger and desire felt like.

This, with Brandon, was a cold bucket of water, bringing back memories and feelings she thought she’d long ago put behind her. “It was you who stole from my truck and broke in here the other night, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not.”

She stared him down, doing her best to ignore certain facts. Like one, dammit, damn him, he was looking at her like she was somebody worth caring about, like he’d actually truly missed her. And then there was the undeniable fact that no matter what she wanted to tell herself, she’d grown up with him, been in the trenches with him. She knew him better than anyone, and knew that she’d been the only person ever able to ground him. To hold him accountable. To encourage him to stay on the right path.

Which he clearly hadn’t. He had a hollow look to him, and a haunted one as well. He was too thin, like he hadn’t been eating enough for weeks, maybe months, and he had what appeared to be a healing black eye and was favoring his right arm.

“How did you get hurt?” she asked.

“Fell down a set of stairs,” he said on a shrug.

Her stomach tightened at the age-old anxiety over worrying about him and the trouble that followed him around like a bad cold. She moved to the front door and opened it, gesturing with a jerk of her chin that he should go.

He dropped his head and stared at his shoes for a long beat. When he lifted his head again, he shook his head. “Fine. I didn’t fall down the stairs.”

All this did was cement the anxiety in her gut. “This is why I dread your visits. I’m sorry you’ve found yourself some new trouble, but you’ve got to go.”

“Ivy—”

“Why did you leave my fridge in the truck open? I had to throw away all the food.”

His eyes revealed a quick flash of regret. “I’m sorry,” he said very quietly. “I was starving and in a hurry. I was being followed.”

“Followed by who? And why are you even here?”

He locked her front door. Then slid the security chain in place. “It’s a long story.”

“So start talking,” she said, watching as he then moved to her windows and lowered the shades. “You’re scaring me.”

“You have no reason to be scared, you’ve got a big ape outside, ready to beat the shit out of anyone who hurts you.” He turned to face her. “I need two things.”

“No.”

“A place to stay tonight,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “And . . .” He winced. “Okay, keep an open mind here, alright? I need to borrow some money.”

“No and no,” she said. “Besides, look around. I don’t have any money.”

He gave her a long look. “Since when do we lie to each other?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been snooping.”

“Enough to know you have a deep savings account.”

“That’s the down payment on a condo I’m buying.”

“A condo. Sounds a little fancy for us Snows.”

That it was actually true made her defensive. “I want a home to call my own. I’ve always wanted that.”

“I know.” His voice had softened. “You always have more hope and faith than