“No,” I said, clearing my throat.
The corners of Taylor’s mouth turned up, but he managed to suppress a full smile.
Corinne targeted Taylor again and then looked forward, both hands on the wheel. “Apapa, Falyn,” she scolded with a perfect Greek accent. “What would your mother say?” Her words were free of any accent at all.
“A lot probably.”
Corinne clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval. “Where is he from?”
“Illinois,” Taylor said.
Corinne was unhappy that he had addressed her, so her questions ceased. She slowed in the parking lot, and we directed her toward Taylor’s truck. She twisted around to watch us exit the van, glaring at Taylor as if she were trying to cast some sort of Greek curse on him with her eyes.
“Thanks, Corinne,” I said. “Bye, Kostas.”
“Later,” he said, still concentrating on his game.
Corinne pulled away, scowling at Taylor, until she decided it was time to watch the road.
Taylor pressed the keyless entry, and I pulled open the door and climbed in, waiting for him to slide in next to me.
“Who was she?” Taylor asked, peeling off his pullover. His T-shirt inched up as he did so, revealing two of his lower abs.
There has to be four more to go along with them and that gorgeous V leading down to his—
Stop.
“That would be Corinne,” I said, blinking, “Kirby’s mother.”
“Was she speaking English?”
“She’s Greek. Kirby’s dad was Canadian, I think. Corinne wanted to name her Circe, after a Greek witch. The dad nixed it, thankfully. Kirby was the compromise.”
“Way to stick to your guns, Canada. Where is he now?”
I shrugged. “All Kirby knows is that he was a hotshot.” I left Taylor with that thought, saying nothing else.
We rode down most of the eight thousand feet from Pikes to the Springs in silence. Taylor turned onto Tejon Street before parking his black behemoth directly in front of Bucksaw’s entrance.
He climbed out, waiting for me to do the same. Just as my feet touched the asphalt, the sky opened up, and rain began to pour. We ran inside, laughing from exhaustion, surprise, and the embarrassment that had come from Corinne.
Our chuckling died down, an awkward silence becoming the uninvited third presence in the room.
“I’m not bullshitting you,” Taylor said. “Is that what your deal is?”
“I don’t have a deal. What are you talking about?”
“Thank you, Taylor. You’re my best day, too, Taylor. I’m hopelessly in love with your preciously sculpted abs, Taylor,” he said, pulling up his shirt to reveal the best thing I’d seen in a while.
I pressed my lips together, stifling a smile. “Are you really still stuck on that? Are you going to cry? Do you need a hug?” I batted my eyelashes and jutted out my bottom lip. He didn’t offer any reaction, so I gave in with a sigh. “It was a good day. I sincerely enjoyed every second of it.”
“Wow. Don’t hurt yourself, Ivy League.”
I rolled my eyes and headed for the stairs.
“Hey, we’re not finished,” Taylor said.
“Then come up,” I said.
He followed me, and by the time he had closed the loft door behind him, I was closing the bathroom door behind me.
“I’m going to wash the mountain off of me,” I called.
“I’m next!”
Before my hair was fully wet, Taylor was pounding on the door. “Falyn?”
“Yeah?”
“My brother just texted me. He’s in town.”
“Which one?” I asked, ducking my head under the water.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“I guess not.”
“Tyler, third oldest,” he said.
I could almost hear him smiling.
“He’s at the hotel now.”
“Did you not know he was coming?”
“No. We drop in on each other, unannounced, frequently. Wanna come?”
“To the hotel?”
“To Cowboys.”
“Not really.”
“Aw, c’mon. You had fun last time, didn’t you?”
“I think I’ll just stay here.”
The door creaked as it opened, and I immediately grabbed the shower curtain, peeking out from behind it.
Taylor crossed his arms over his chest, his inked biceps looking even bigger from lying on top of his fists. “Can I come in? I hate talking to you through the door.”
“Whatever.”
He slumped his shoulders as he let his arms fall to his sides. “I want you to come. I want you to meet my brother.”
“Why?”
He frowned. “What is the big deal? You’re going to meet him eventually.”
“Exactly.”
“He’s my roommate in Estes Park.”
“So?”
“So … nothing,” he growled, exasperated. “Never mind.” He opened the door, but he didn’t leave. He slammed it shut and flipped around, a scowl on his face. “Quit it.”
“Quit what? I’m just trying to take a shower!”
“Being so … impervious.”
“Impervious? That’s a big word for you.”
“Fuck off.” He opened the door and slammed it behind him.
Not two seconds later, it opened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”