25. My Brother is a Cock-blocker

Juliet

Three hours and a takeout dinner later, the cock-blocker is still here.

I love my brother, but right now, I hate him. Harnessing the fury of a thousand unfinished sex acts, I study the Scrabble letters on the kitchen table like I'm going to burn holes through them with my eyes.

"Now, c'mon. Don't tell me you're as intense as Monroe when it comes to this game," Sawyer chides, fiddling with his tiles, taunting as I wait my turn to pounce on the board.

Well, if you'd been seconds away from getting the good stuff, you'd be a jack in the box too.

Instead, I'm putting all my energy into this game, hoping to slaughter him, and sure, Monroe too. "Yes. I want to destroy you," I mutter.

But all I have are a couple of As, a couple of Ms, and one annoying C.

"And to think you were always the nice one growing up," he teases, then waggles a tile he might be considering playing. "But as I was saying, it was nice to kick around town today. Good thing I had to see a client in Duck Falls. Gave me a chance to check out Darling Springs again too. Scope out some things to do this weekend. I'm going to bring Katya to your dad's retirement party," he tells Monroe.

"That'll be nice," Monroe says evenly, and I can't read what he thinks of his dad inviting everyone to the party. I didn't think to ask more about it last night. I should do that.

If I ever get a second alone with him again.

Did that come out grumbly even in my head? Yes, yes it did. My inner monologue should learn to be nicer.

"Yeah, we all got rezzies for that night. Everyone is coming. Even Carter. He's not playing till Monday night.

"Oh!" I perk up. "Rachel's coming, then?"

I really didn't think about this weekend at all. My focus has been all dating experiment all the time.

"The whole gang. We got rooms at The Ladybug Inn this weekend," he says, then his brown eyes turn teasing as he drags his hand through his hair, a few shades lighter than mine. "Your favorite."

Instinctively, I reach for my necklace, like I need to hide it from him. But maybe that's just because I'm hearing the echo of Monroe's adorable the other day. How he did mean it sensually. "And I recall running naked through the front lawn was your favorite thing."

Monroe laughs, then claps my brother on the back. "Some things never change."

Sawyer tips his beer bottle my way. "Touché." He takes another drink.

"Are you going to stay through Saturday?" I ask. Please say no. If he's in town tomorrow, he might commandeer all of Monroe's time.

But thankfully, he shakes his head. "Just here for the day, then I'll be back. I have meetings in the city tomorrow."

"Business is good?" Monroe asks, inscrutable again. Is this really how he talks to his friend? With business is goods and that's nice?

Maybe I'm mad at Monroe too. Or maybe at myself. Should I be telling my brother the truth about the last few days?

I liked sucking dick for the first time ever!

Ugh. Maybe I just need an early bedtime.

"It's good, but it can always be better, right?"

"Truer words," Monroe says, lifting his beer bottle, too, and reminding me that work, understandably, is his true love.

"Ooh. I got one," Sawyer says and then sets down his tiles, spelling out J-A-S-M-I-N-E.

Monroe whistles. "Damn. Good one."

Sure it's a good word, but why doesn't Monroe just flip the table and tell Sawyer he needs to take me hard and ruthlessly up against the wall?

Because you're living in a make-believe world, honey.

Maybe that's why I'm annoyed with Monroe. Because he didn't flip the table and because he can't. We don't have a get-out-so-I-can-be-with-my-woman kind of relationship.

I heave the world's most annoyed sigh and stare blankly at my letters one more time. But hold on. Do I have the words to spell what I think I can spell?

Like I'm the devilish kid in a GIF, I select tile by tile, placing one at a victorious time into the board, attaching them to Sawyer's J as I spell C-L-A-M-J-A-M.

I drop the proverbial mic and say, "I'm outta here."

My brother peers at the board, then me. "But that's not a word."

"Oh, it's definitely a thing though." And I'm feeling the female equivalent of cock-blocked big time.

I push back in the chair as Monroe fights off a smile. "Well played," he says as I walk off, waving goodbye to the guys behind me.

But before I can turn down the hall, Sawyer calls out. "Hey, were you able to grab that citrus beach lotion from The Slippery Dipper?"

Oh right. He asked for that the day we drove up. I turn around. "No, but I can go tomorrow. You're taking off tonight, right?"

Please say yes.

"Definitely." But he waves a hand. "I'll get it on Saturday with Katya. All good. She loves that store."

"Yeah, me too," I say fondly, annoyance replaced by wistfulness as I glance at Monroe.

He meets my gaze straight on. "Same here," he says in a tone that's not at all unreadable. It's one hundred percent tinged with romance, so much it makes my chest ache.

I do leave this time, heading for the bedroom, where I shut the door and exhale heavily. Time is running out for us, and my irritation isn't truly about the sex I didn't have. I just wanted more time alone with Monroe.

But what's the point? We're not going to have alone time after this weekend, so I should get used to it.

After I wash my face and slip into jammies, I grab my phone, then text the girlies, asking if they want to get ready together for the party on Saturday.

That's only two days from now.

They say yes, then I turn to a self-improvement podcast, but it doesn't improve my mood about the clock winding down.