“Try me.”

I inhaled her perfume as I waited for her response. Her breathing picked up as she glanced down at our joined hands and closed her eyes.

“Casey and I were best friends. He was one of my first clients.”

“So when you quit today—”

“I lost my friend, but to be fair, I lost him years ago. I lost him to the money, the fame . . .”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“That won’t happen,” I felt the need to add. “To me, to us.”

Jordan shrugged. “We have to be best friends in order for that to happen, and I’m pretty sure Max staked that claim on you long ago.”

I rolled my eyes. “Max thinks he’s everyone’s best friend.”

Her frown turned into a small smile. “I wonder why?”

“Never wonder where he’s concerned. Should we eat?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Good idea.”

The conversation was forced throughout dinner, so forced that I had our waiter box up our food. Maybe Jordan needed to go back to the apartment and think. She’d had a day from hell and I’d made it even worse.

Gold star for Reid.

As distressed as she was, I knew I couldn’t help her. I never said I was good at comforting women. I almost offered to get her drunk when we got back to the apartment, but I knew that wasn’t going to work.

Because Max was sitting on our couch, arms crossed, a scowl marring his features. Becca sat on the other couch, pity etched on hers.

“Oh, hell,” I muttered.

He smiled.

I hated that smile. Because damn it to hell, I’d just played into his greedy little hands. Get married first? Me? Yeah, I’d said that. He’d officially won, and I’d been too ass hurt to realize it.

On second thought, the girl who called sounded familiar too.

He wouldn’t.

Becca looked at her hands guiltily.

He would.

“You bastard!” I charged toward him, fist flying.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JORDAN

Max jumped onto the couch and held up his hands. “Before you do this, remember, our mother has a Jesus sticker on her car. What would she say?”

“Must you bring her into EVERYTHING?” Reid roared, stopping in front of the couch, chest heaving.

Max shrugged. “It’s not my fault I’m her favorite son.”

“Says who?”

“Mom. This morning.”

“Was this before or after you added vodka to her coffee and slipped her a pill?”

Max gasped.

Becca made her way around the brothers and motioned for me to walk with her toward the kitchen. No words were spoken. She simply popped the cork from the wine bottle and poured what looked like three servings into a glass and slid it toward me. “Believe me, it helps.”

I took the glass and sipped while she drank straight from the bottle. “Does he ever . . . stop being . . . Max?” I asked. “Curious minds want to know.”

Max jumped off the couch, and naturally he made his own swish sound effect before landing on his feet, thrusting his hands into the air, and turning toward Reid. “I’ve been her favorite ever since I won at gymnastics.”

“You don’t win at gymnastics,” Reid said through clenched teeth. “You get scored.”

“Perfect ten.” Max winked back at us, then covered his mouth and said, “Zero,” while pointing to Reid.

“We were six!” Reid argued.

“Dude!” Max held up his hands. “I’m just saying, it’s not your fault you’re not the favorite. Let it go, man, just like Rose let go of Jack.”

“Who’s Jack?” I whispered.

Becca choked on her wine. “Oh, well, uh, last year Reid had a momentary breakdown because of Max peer pressuring me to shoot Reid in the ass with a tranq gun . . . he spent an hour singing ‘My Heart Will Go On.’” I winced. “Off-key.”

“Damn you!” Reid turned on his heel and thrust his finger in our direction. “What did I ever do to you!” I think he was talking to Becca. “I hit on you once, one time—”

“—thrice.” Max coughed.

“And the only reason was so that I could get back at this one.” He jerked his hand back to Max, nearly hitting him in the face. “Because he told Grandma the lock on my door was broken. I was taken advantage of!”

“Well, it was!” Max rolled his eyes.

“Because you took a sledgehammer to it, you bastard!”

Max grinned. “Guilty.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what they were talking about. So I did what any sane girl would do. I drank.

And when my glass was nearly empty, Becca very kindly refilled it while Reid and Max continued pacing around the living room.

“You think if we chant fight, they’ll take their shirts off?” Becca asked.

I eyed Reid’s near perfect physique. “One can only hope.”

“Dirty girls,” Max shouted. “Both of you! Jezebel! I won’t have you poisoning her mind!”

“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “And stop calling me a whore!”

“Term of endearment when Max says it.” Becca patted my hand. “Next time just say thank you. It’s easier that way.”

I glanced back at the guys just in time to see Reid launch himself at Max, hands wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him against the couch while Max screamed. “Help, help!”