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“You’re here for a night, Perry,” my dad chides her, putting the vegetables back in the oven. “You’ve gotten just as bad as Ada at packing.”

“She wishes,” I mumble before going over to Perry and giving her a hug. I catch a whiff of cigarettes in her dark ponytail. “Ugh, have you taken up smoking?”

“No,” she says exasperated as she pulls back. “Guess who thought he could smoke one cigarette and not get re-addicted?”

“My ears are burning!” comes Dex’s voice from outside.

“No, that’s your fucking cancer stick that’s burning!” Perry yells right back. She looks back at me and shakes her head. “Asshole.”

“Language, please,” my father says, rolling his eyes before coming over and giving her a tight embrace. I’d just seen the two of them a few weeks ago when I went up to their place in a Seattle for a few nights, but my dad hasn’t seen them in at least a month. And while he can do without seeing Dex, I know he misses Perry dearly.

She’s looking good. Her weight fluctuates like most women’s, though her giant boobs are always constant. I definitely wasn’t blessed in that department. I may have inherited our mother’s blonde hair and long limbs but Perry got all the sultry Italian curves from our dad’s side. The only thing we really have in common are our sky blue eyes. Oh, and the whole seeing ghosts thing.

Which sucks.

“I’ve tried to get him onto E-cigarettes,” Perry says to dad.

Dex’s laugh comes loud and clear along with a waft of smoke, and I figure he’s on the front steps finishing his cigarette.

“You want him to vape?” I ask Perry, raising my brow. “You might as well as staple the word ‘shitdick’ to his forehead.”

“Ada,” my dad admonishes me.

Dex laughs again and the front door closes. He appears in the kitchen entryway, looking at Perry with raised brows. “You see? Only shitdicks vape. Your sister knows what’s up.”

“I always know what’s up,” I tell him dryly.

He shrugs, conceding, and nods at my father, tipping his newsboy cap at him. “Daniel.”

“Dex,” is his reply before he turns around to busy himself with more food.

“Can I help with anything?” Perry asks but our dad shoos us away.

“Go put your stuff away and relax,” he says, opening the fridge. “Dinner will be ready in a half hour.”

Dex scoops up Perry’s bag, his large bicep muscles flexing beneath the sleeve of his grey tee shirt. He grins at me, wagging his brows and I immediately make a noise of disgust, looking away.

Okay, here’s the truth about Declan “Dex” Foray. He bugs the absolute shit out of me, always has since he first waltzed into our lives all those years ago with his wannabe Robert Downey Jr. mustache and goatee and video camera. I thought he was here to exploit my sister, roping her into their YouTube channel as they investigated ghosts and the paranormal. Instead, he saved her. Changed her life in more ways than one. And I couldn’t be happier that he’s my brother-in-law now.

He also happens to be hot. I cringe when I find myself admitting it from time to time and I would never tell him or Perry that, lest his ego get even bigger than it is, but it’s true. He’s not exactly my type. I’m pretty tall and Dex is around 5’9”, but there’s still something about him that sets your heart aflutter sometimes. Maybe it’s because he’s ripped as shit, maybe it’s his expressive dark eyes, the way he carries himself with so much “I don’t give a shit” confidence. Or maybe it’s that in some ways he’s almost superhuman.

Could be anything, really.

But most of the time, he lives to annoy me, just like any brother would.

“Put your muscles away,” I scoff at him as he brushes past, moving toward the staircase.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, little sister,” he calls over his shoulder, heading up the stairs.

“I think I liked it better when you called me Little Fifteen!” I yell after him. “Though I guess Little Eighteen doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”

I step out into the hallway, about to head to the living room, when Perry intercepts me, putting her hand on my shoulder and squinting at me.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

“You think I’m offended because your husband is flexing for me?”

She frowns. “I’m serious. I hate to sound like a bitch, but you look awful.”

I shrug away from her hand and go into the living room, flopping onto the couch and pulling out my phone to busy myself with fashion bloggers on Instagram. “I haven’t been sleeping right.”

She sits down beside me and I can feel her stare deepening as she leans in closer. I give her a quick glance. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try and read my mind. We had a deal.”