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The walls are covered with a mix of family photos and school pictures. There’s one of her with braces and bangs, tucked between two other high school mug shots of her brothers.
“Who’s this cutie?” I ask, and she tugs me into the kitchen with her.
Once we’re in the kitchen, I move close, sliding my lips against hers. She immediately relaxes in my arms, drifting away with me. Carlee groans against me, running her fingers up my shirt. I know her hands on my stomach is a silent plea for more. I laugh against her mouth, wanting her so fucking bad that it hurts.
“Ahem,” I hear from behind us, and we break apart.
Carlee wasn’t exaggerating about her brothers’ sizes. They loom over me, muscles jacked and expressions unreadable. If I were the type to feel intimidation, I might have. However, I’m Weston motherfucking Calloway.
“Matteo and Dean,” Carlee mutters, her fingers brushing over her swollen lips, “this is my fiancé.”
“How old are you?”
Matteo reaches out to take my hand, his grip firm. It’s a threat, and I reciprocate, squeezing back just as hard.
“Forty,” I say.
Dean steps forward and takes his turn, mirroring his brother’s scrutiny. “Aren’t you a little too old to be dating our baby sister?”
They gauge me, sizing me up, which is fair. I’d do the same if this were Billie.
“Stop it,” Carlee says, stepping between us, glaring at her brothers. “Seriously, cut that shit out. I’m not a baby.”
“You’ll always be our baby sister,” Matteo tells her, glaring at me.
The silent warning is clear. Hurt their sister and get hurt.
“Do you love him?” Dean demands, his glare fixed firmly on Carlee.
“Of course,” she replies without missing a beat, confidence radiating from her. “Weston’s my best friend. Other than Lexi, he’s the only person who has been there for me the past year. Where were either of you? Not giving a fuck about your baby sister or what she was doing. So, back off.” The warning in her voice is undeniable.
Zero hesitation or intimidation. She wasn’t joking when she said her brothers had trained her.
Damn.She’s fucking hot when she’s mad.
Carlee shoots them a fierce look, and I think she might clock them. But before she can make a move, Mawmaw walks into the room. Her presence is like a tornado and shifts the air around us.
“Leave them alone,” she commands. Her tone spares no room for argument.
They exit the kitchen, and she gives us a wink before leaving us to ourselves.
“Why did you kiss me,” Carlee asks, her expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, “when we first walked in here?”
“Because you needed it. Kind of like right now,” I whisper, brushing my lips against hers again, pulling her out of her head.
“You always know,” she admits.
The admission lights a spark of satisfaction within me.
“Let’s get this over with so we can be alone,” she whispers. “Please. I forgot how intense they are.”
“It’s almost over,” I say, offering some encouragement.
My phone buzzes with a text, and it’s Brody.
“One second,” I tell her.
Brody