Page 52 of Love Me, I Dare You

“You know, if I knew you’d be hogging all the pastries from the guys who actually deserve them, I’d make sure to hide them out back for them.” Monroe joins us in the kitchen, making Candy jump back in surprise.

It’s not that we were even standing that close to one another, but her sudden shock makes it seem a bit more suspicious that it should be. Monroe looks back and forth between us, a question I know she won’t ask gleaming in her bold blue eyes.

“Candy, I think Monty's outback looking for you. Why don’t you take him a coffee and a cinnamon bun? It’s his favorite.” The soft tint on her cheeks burns brighter as she does exactly as she’s told and bolts out of the kitchen, leaving me with my little sister.

Ignoring her, not because I want to but because I’m not sure what to say to her, I pour myself a refill of coffee.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says, taking a sip of the iced latte in her hand. She’s casually dressed in jeans, an oversized knit sweater in a pale shade of blue, and black cowgirl boots, necessary to step over the rugged terrain. Her dark hair is curled and loose down her back, shorter layers forming her face.

Monroe’s beautiful and not only because she’s my sister and our resemblance is undoubtable, but she truly is breathtakingly gorgeous. Her bright blue eyes glare at me behind dark lashes only coated with a slight bit of makeup, and the freckles kissing her nose make her look slightly younger than she is.

“Am I not allowed to have a second cup of coffee, Izzy?” I use the beloved nickname she now seems to hate, and she rolls her eyes in response. “Don’t act cute, you know what I mean.”

Confused at why she’s angry with me this morning since all I’ve done is have a cup of coffee and a pastry she brought for us, I risk being scolded by Monty for egging her on. “I’m not sure I do. Please explain.”

She takes a step toward me, standing closer than she’s had to me since I’ve been back. It’s obvious she still hates me, but at least she’s not fleeing the room or puking at the sight of me.

Her finger digs into my chest as she speaks. “Stay away from Candace. She doesn't deserve to be played and used by you, then left heartbroken when you leave.” Her words cut deep because I know the true meaning behind them.The way you left Bailey.

I can’t help the twinge of guilt that crosses my face and the way her glare softens for just a second shows she’s noticed the effect of her warning. I try to play it cool, act like I’m not affected by the way everyone in town seems to feel about my return, but with Bailey and Monroe, I care more than I’m willing to admit.

Because I know they are the two people I’ve hurt most with the choices I made.

I brush off the guilt I feel at her disappointment and go back to using humor and sarcasm to mask the way I truly feel.

“She poured me a cup of coffee, Izzy. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t even say thank you. Doubt she’d be interested in anything more with an asshole like me.”

Monroe scoffs, not believing a damn thing I say. “Don’t act all innocent, Nash. You know exactly the effect you have on women, and the way Candace’s face was turning the color of a fucking tomato. I know she couldn't care less if you thanked her for the coffee.”

“You think I’m cute, sis?” I playfully ask, teasing her, but it may be the wrong choice.

Her glare turns cold. Unlike the pain there was the first time I saw her, now there’s nothing but resentment and anger. “Only because I’m constantly reminded of how much I look like you. A genuine tragedy, but I won’t deny what you already know.”

I can’t help the grin that paints my face, a complete opposite to the scowl she wears. “Lucky girl.”

“Quit trying to make jokes, Nash. You’re not that funny.”

Though before this conversation turns darker than it already has, Monty enters the kitchen, the cup of coffee and cinnamon bun Candy took him in his hand. His gaze hardens as he looks back and forth between Monroe and me, scowling deeper at me when he sees the angry expression on her face.

Fuck. Of course, now he’s going to think I’ve pissed her off.

Monty adjusts the dark blue baseball cap on his head, a head of dark brown wavy hair peeking out from under it. “What the fuck did you do?” he asks me, not even implying that I’ve caused the scowl on Monroe’s face, but outright blaming me.

My oldest brother is dressed in his usual attire, a white tee, blue jeans, and brown cowboy boots on his feet. The white shirt fitted tight around his upper chest and arms show the tight muscle he’s gained in just three weeks’ worth of hard labor out here on the ranch. I’ve even bulked up in the time since I’ve returned.

Nothing like what I would have accumulated by simply going to the gym like I was used to. Life out here differs from what I remember and as every day passes by, I’m reminded of how much I’m not suited for it.

“Why does it have to be me that’s done something?” I ask innocently, but Monty’s not fucking having it. “I was just minding my business eating breakfast when Izzy came to scold me for saying good morning to your assistant.” Monroe shoots me an annoyed glare, rolling her eyes and screaming “traitor” with a single stormy expression.

“Leave her alone. Last thing I need is for you to sleep with my assistant and then break her heart.” Hearing Monroe say it was one thing, but for Monty to wholeheartedly agree, what kind of fucking asshole do they think I am?

Though essentially abandoning my family for ten years because of a woman I couldn’t be near, allowing her father andbrother to run me out of town, it says a lot about exactly who I am.

I brush off the hurt which threatens to creep inside me and crack my hard exterior, instead doing what I always do best and act like nothing bothers me. “Don’t worry about it brother, I won’t be breaking any hearts while I’m in town.”

He nods, unimpressed, clearly not believing me, but he doesn’t continue badgering me about it. Instead, he turns his attention to Monroe. Pointing a finger out at her, his expression hardens. “And you little girl,” he scolds, but she doesn't flinch at his sharp tone. “Stop sending Candace to take me coffee and my favoritetreat.”

His face contorts into disgust at the word treat. She’s completely unaffected by the earful he gives her, which means she must be on the receiving end of it often.

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