18
S-W-I-T-C-H-A-R-O-O
Ryder stood in the door, mouth drawn in fullwhat the hell, with the puzzled eyebrows to match. In case Grady had missed the meaning of the look, Ryder mouthed,What the hell?
His poor brother probably didn’t have a clue what was going on. Why would he? He couldn’t imagine when Claire would have told him. Although, his frantic exit in the middle of a storm to rescue Claire was a pretty damn good clue. But he’d already figured out that Ryder didn’t understand Claire.
He slid out from Claire’s arm and stood from the bed.
Ryder groaned in horror at the show. “Come on, man,” he whispered, arm shielding his eyes from the view of Grady, buck-ass-nude.
Grady hid his grin as he slid his jeans on and grabbed his shirt from the floor. “Hey, you could have looked away,” he whispered back.
“I wasn’t exactly expecting... that.” Ryder gestured to his sparsely dressed brother as Grady buttoned his jeans, and motioned to Claire, sound asleep on her stomach, the blankets not covering much.
Grady pushed past his brother and moved the conversation into the sitting room. “Yeah, about that—”
Ryder dropped into one of the sitting room chairs and poured a cup of coffee from the fresh, insulated carafe Hattie had clearly brought up when she took the dishes down. “Yeah, about that?”
Grady pulled his shirt over his head, poured himself a cup, then dropped into the other chair. He bit his cheek, having no idea where to start.
“Ok, let’s start with an easy one. Where’s my stuff?” Ryder’s body language was calm as he leaned back in the chair and slowly sipped his coffee, eyes watching his brother closely over the rim of the mug.
Posture mirroring his brother’s, his long legs spread out from the small leather club chair, Grady took a long drag of his coffee and shrugged. “In the green room.”
“Okay. I guess I should be glad I won’t be sleeping on the floor again. How about this one... you stole my fiancée?”
Grady’s feet shifted on the plush blue rug. An impish grin tugged at the side of his mouth. “I’m not sure that was a question.”
Eyes set fiercely in a threatening squint, Ryder growled under his breath, but he lacked the fire he usually harbored beneath that glare.
“First, I know the fiancée business was a sham to earn some brownie points with Patricia. Second, you and Claire broke up.”
“What, you waited all of forty-eight hours to fuck my ex-girlfriend?”
“Ouch, that sounds so crass.” Grady cringed when he remembered his own similarly vulgar words to Asher last summer. “You’re not exactly one to talk.”
Ryder shifted awkwardly in his chair. “That’s different—”
“Is it?”
