CHASE
I didn’t wait until we were deep inside the house.
The second we cleared the French doors and hit the kitchen—cool tile under my bare feet, music still thumping through the walls—I rounded on him.
“Bro, are you trying to f**k my stepsister?”
Marcus stopped short. Beer halfway to his mouth. “Chase, what the—”
“You saw her, decided you wanted in, and I *told* you she’s violent. Yet here you are, cozying up when there are puck bunnies literally throwing themselves at you everywhere else.”
Marcus lowered the bottle slowly. “I was being friendly.”
“She’s not the friendly type. Avoid her.”
“She seems plenty friendly to me.”
“Don’t let that fool you. I’ve known her longer.”
Marcus crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Maybe I should find out for myself.”
Something
