Page 12 of Clint & Ivy

“Elle gets along with everyone. But she loves the sound of her voice. People take her big mouth as a sign of aggression. That’s fine with outsiders, but you’re with me, so you need to see her right. Elle is my baby sister. I want you two to get along.”

Ivy bit her lower lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. I derailed her anxiety by making circles in the palm of her hand with my thumb. Ivy quickly lost her unease. Her gaze focused hard on my face, and I could almost feel her wondering what my kisses would feel like.

“Soon,” I promised as Elle knocked on the door.

My sister entered the condo without waiting for me to answer. In her right hand was a dog carrier with Hanzee inside. Elle must have been chilling today and then in a hurry to get over here because she skipped putting in her contacts. Instead, she wore her rectangular “take me seriously” glasses. Her blonde hair was tied in two braids. She wore a dark blue T-shirt and black denim shorts.

“Where’s the Missouri minx?”

Elle came to a crashing halt at the sight of Ivy. My sister very deliberately set the dog carrier on the floor. Her eyes narrowed to slits. I smiled at Elle’s “intimidation” expression.

“Don’t think your itty-bitty size fools me, kiddo,” Elle said in a low, threatening voice. “I fell for a tiny chick’s harmless act before, and she bit me. I’m not buying into your innocent Oompa Loompa act.”

“Ivy, this is my little sister, Elle.”

Neither woman was impressed with my attempt to defuse the tension. Elle erased the space between her and the smaller woman.

“What did you do back in Missouri?” Elle muttered, sizing up Ivy. “Let me guess, you were a waitress who batted her eyes and made sure his coffee cup was never empty. Seen it a million times.”

Crossing my arms, I asked, “A million, huh?”

Elle shrugged and replied, “I’ve seen it at least once.”

“With whom?”

“You don’t know the people involved. They went to another school,” Elle bullshitted before leaning forward to meet Ivy eye to eye. “Can you speak, little one?”

“I’m not from Missouri,” Ivy said.

Elle stood straight and glanced at me. “Wait, what is this? Am I being punked? Is Sabrina hiding in a closet, waiting to jump out and fuck up my hair?”

“Ivy and I met today at a Missouri gas station on my way home.”

Elle froze in response to my words. Her gray eyes blanked out. I felt her trying to make sense of my words.

“Have I walked into an alternative reality where my handsome and successful brother needs to pick up cheap women in lowly gas stations?” she asked before adding. “Clint, have you gotten too uppity to bang whores at the clubhouse? Our parents didn’t raise you to be snobbish.”

Resting my hand on Elle’s shoulder, I knew just what to say to derail my sister’s growing irritation. “Ivy needed help out of a dangerous situation, so I gave her a ride.”

Elle felt my manipulation, yet she couldn’t help herself when it came to a woman in need. One of her favorite errands for the club was beating up abusive husbands and fathers.

“What dangerous situation?” Elle asked and then narrowed her gaze and frowned at Ivy. “Is this problem going to show up at your place? Maybe we should get everyone involved with security.”

“Don’t threaten me,” I warned, frowning down at her.

“Don’t threaten me,” she growled, frowning up at me. “I have Slugger ready and willing to kick your ass.”

I broke into a smile and glanced at a nervous Ivy. “Slugger is our dad’s nickname. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”

Elle’s temper diffused immediately. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I’m bringing Ivy to dinner.”

“Will she still be wearing my clothes?”

“I hope to have new ones by then.”

“Should I change?” Ivy asked, getting rattled despite my earlier warnings about Elle being full of hot air.

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