Page 86 of Pretty Broken Wings
“Ugh, no, I’m sorry, girl.” I rub her back as she vomits up shrimp and mushy dog food.
Once she’s done, she wags her tail and tries to eat it again.
“No!” I pull her away.
“What’s going on?”
The light flips on, and I yelp, jumping and turning to see one of the twins in the living room. He rubs sleep from his eyes, and he has no glasses on. And no shirt on.
My mouth dries up looking at his chest. It’s muscled and trim, and his skin is damn near glowing. My gut instinct says this is Gage, but I’m not sure. They look so goddamn similar.
“Uh, nothing.”
Buddy keeps trying to lunge behind me to eat the puke.
He frowns.
“Buddy got sick,” I say, looking behind me to see if the evidence is still out. Other than the ottoman being moved, the end of the curtain rod is on the back of one of the chairs.
The flash of concern on his face convinces me this is Gage. He pushes forward, feeling around for Buddy.
“Hold her; she’s trying to eat it. I’ll get towels.” I rush into the kitchen. I don’t want Gage to see the barely chewed shrimp in her vomit. That’ll raise more questions than I have time for. When I get back, Gage has pulled Buddy outside. While he’s distracted, I grab the bulb of the curtain rod and shove it as far into the crack of the seat as I can. Then, I start cleaning up.
“You don’t have to do that,” Gage says.
“It’s fine.” It’s not. The vomit reeks, but I don’t want to get caught.
“No, seriously.” Gage leans in, hands brushing mine. “I’ll do it.” He grabs my left hand, stilling my motions. His grip is firm, and instantly, I lose control of my movements. I suck in a breath, and automatically, fear rushes in. Then, Gage gives me a gentle squeeze and lets me go. He actually lets me go.
Then common sense rolls out the window, and instead of just fear, arousal also hits me. I turn to look at the man crouched beside me to find he’s already looking at me, too. He’s close enough that our faces are almost touching.
His face gets pink.
I find myself staring at his lips. His lips that are so fucking close. His slightly puffy, blush lips.
Gage’s breath brushes across my face, and I realize I’ve stopped breathing. What is wrong with me?
I scramble back, trying to get my wits about me again. I motion at him. “Your, uh… your knee is in vomit.”
“Shit.” Gage pulls back. He tries to wipe the vomit with paper towels and only succeeds in smearing it. Then his face twitches, and I see him trying to hold back a smile.
“You gonna let me do it now, or are you just gonna make it worse?” I try to sound gruff. Because why did I think about kissing him earlier? Something is certifiably wrong with me.
Gage laughs then. A full-blown laugh comes from his chest, and he shakes his head. “Probably just gonna make it worse, princess.” He throws a look at me that, for some unknown reason, makes me blush.
I get to work cleaning again to avoid the feeling. When I’m scooping up the last of the paper towels, Gage asks, “Couldn’t sleep?”
My mind blanks for a second until I can get it working enough to say, “Buddy had to go out.”
“Oh.” Gage stands in the living room, staring at me again. He’s looking serious, and it makes me uncomfortable.
“Look, for my part, I’m sorry.”
My immediate reaction is to scoff and back away. But after I do those things, Gage is still standing there. He looks genuine. Genuine and fucking hot. Why the hell did he have to take his shirt off?
I don’t have time to respond when a voice cuts in, “Well, well, well. What are you guys doing?”
I jump and look past Gage. Axel stalks into the living room.
