Page 74 of My Brother's Best Friends

“You’re not fooling us,” I say. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t. It won’t end well for you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” I reply.

Melanie’s pout is theatrical. “You’re no fun. I do have something planned, but I guarantee that you’ll enjoy it if you just give it a chance.”

“Last I checked, your idea of fun involved lying to the police and suing us for something we didn’t do, Melanie,” I warn. “Stay away from Makayla. I won’t say it again.”

She glides closer on her poles. Her ski suit is shamelessly tight, and her cherry-red lips gleam with fresh gloss. Everything about Melanie screams premeditation. To any other man she’d be bait—attractive, sensual—the whole nine yards with every twist of her hips.

To my brothers and me, she is purely a source of disgust.

“Be careful,” Melanie says, shooting Kellan a look to be sure he hears her, too. “I don’t respond well to threats—or promises.”

I clamp my mouth shut. I have to remember that not only is she a bitch, but she’s also litigious. One wrong word could land me in the middle of another lawsuit, and this one might not go away so easily. Deep breaths.

Melanie smiles, having made her point. She pulls the ski goggles down over her eyes and flips her hair again. Skiing away from us, she drops deftly over the edge of the slope to begin her descent.

For a while her body kept us warm and sated. It was fun—until she twisted it into a nightmare.

I glance at Kellan; the same mix of frustration and mistrust clouds his face. “Give her a few seconds,” I say.

“No rush whatsoever.”

“Give her a minute, then.”

“And hope she misses that tight turn.”

I chuckle dryly. “That’s morbid as hell, Kellan.”

“She’s trouble, Alex. The worst kind.”

“I know…”

I push off, letting the wind scour my thoughts clean as I carve down the slope.

22

KELLAN

Ilet Alex handle most of the conversation with Melanie.

She’s trying to bait us into something that might burn everything to the ground. And our ecosystem is fragile enough as it is. I watch my brother carve down the slope while my thoughts stall for a heartbeat.

When I finally push off, this run isn’t nearly as satisfying as the first. Instead of enjoying the burn in my legs, I worry about whatever scheme Melanie’s cooking up.

At the bottom, I catch Alex tugging a water bottle from the strap at his hip.

“We good?” I ask, sidling up and reaching for the bottle myself. He passes it over, and we take long pulls before deciding if we want another run.

“Yes.”

“Where’s Melanie?” I ask, scanning the crowd.

She’s nowhere to be seen, but that doesn’t mean she’s not lurking near the ski shop or waiting at the base of the chair liftfor us. I almost throw in the towel and suggest we hit a different slope.

“I haven’t seen her,” Alex grumbles. That brief but unsettling conversation got the better of him. Chances are, he’ll be in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

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