Page 39 of Sinful Like Us
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He just nods and reaches over the bar for a beer bottle. He motions to the owner, who gives the okay for him to take the beer.
“It can’t be Charlie,” Maximoff concludes. “Jesus, does he even know we’re here?”
“He does,” Thatcher says, coming closer to the bar with Farrow.
I rotate on the stool. “What do you mean?” I rush to obtain whatever knowledge they’ve acquired.
“Charlie texted me earlier.” Thatcher squats and collects my trampled fur coat off the floor.Dirtied.He splays the filthy thing on a vacant stool. “Your brother asked where I was. So I told him.”
I’m wary. “That was all he wanted?”
Thatcher nods.
My neck elongates, tense and very cautious of what’s about to occur. “Charlie is coming here.”
Maximoff shakes his head, uncertain. “It doesn’t make any damn sense, Janie.”
“I know my brother,” I say. “He’s bought out this particular bar, and he’ll be here in dramatic glory.”
It has to be Charlie.
Maximoff turns to Farrow. “Ask Oscar if Charlie is coming here.” Oscar Oliveira is Charlie’s 24/7 bodyguard, and so he’d know more than just whereCharlie is.
He should be with him.
Beside him.
Protecting him.
Farrow blows a bubblegum bubble and pops it in his mouth. “You’re five steps behind me, wolf scout.”
Maximoff growls in frustration. “Farrow—”
“I already tried. Oscar is off comms. Most likely because Charlie asked his bodyguard not to share with the whole class.”
Thatcher looks grim, from the door to us.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Earlier, I heard that Eliot and Tom left New York and have been heading to Philly.”
“It could be a coincidence,” I note.
Farrow rests a boot on a stool rung. “Or your brothers are up to some shit.”
“They’re not up to some shit,” I defend, more hotly than I mean to.
He raises his hands.
Thatcher’s concern bears down on me. “What’s wrong?”
I take a strained breath. “I’m afraid my siblings are being coy in order to give you a hard time.” Admitting this is difficult because I wouldloveto just roll out a beautiful, luxurious red carpet for Thatcher.
But this is not the Cobalt way.
It’s very possible Thatcher’s introduction into myfamily will be grueling, taxing, and of the most theatrical, over-the-top caliber—and I need to save him from this, don’t I?
