“Thank you, Taylor. You’re my best day, too, Taylor. I’m hopelessly in love with your preciously sculpted abs, Taylor,” he said, pulling up his shirt to reveal the best thing I’d seen in a while.

I pressed my lips together, stifling a smile. “Are you really still stuck on that? Are you going to cry? Do you need a hug?” I batted my eyelashes and jutted out my bottom lip. He didn’t offer any reaction, so I gave in with a sigh. “It was a good day. I sincerely enjoyed every second of it.”

“Wow. Don’t hurt yourself, Ivy League.”

I rolled my eyes and headed for the stairs.

“Hey, we’re not finished,” Taylor said.

“Then come up,” I said.

He followed me, and by the time he had closed the loft door behind him, I was closing the bathroom door behind me.

“I’m going to wash the mountain off of me,” I called.

“I’m next!”

Before my hair was fully wet, Taylor was pounding on the door. “Falyn?”

“Yeah?”

“My brother just texted me. He’s in town.”

“Which one?” I asked, ducking my head under the water.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

“I guess not.”

“Tyler, third oldest,” he said.

I could almost hear him smiling.

“He’s at the hotel now.”

“Did you not know he was coming?”

“No. We drop in on each other, unannounced, frequently. Wanna come?”

“To the hotel?”

“To Cowboys.”

“Not really.”

“Aw, c’mon. You had fun last time, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll just stay here.”

The door creaked as it opened, and I immediately grabbed the shower curtain, peeking out from behind it.

Taylor crossed his arms over his chest, his inked biceps looking even bigger from lying on top of his fists. “Can I come in? I hate talking to you through the door.”

“Whatever.”

He slumped his shoulders as he let his arms fall to his sides. “I want you to come. I want you to meet my brother.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “What is the big deal? You’re going to meet him eventually.”

“Exactly.”

“He’s my roommate in Estes Park.”

“So?”

“So … nothing,” he growled, exasperated. “Never mind.” He opened the door, but he didn’t leave. He slammed it shut and flipped around, a scowl on his face. “Quit it.”

“Quit what? I’m just trying to take a shower!”

“Being so … impervious.”

“Impervious? That’s a big word for you.”

“Fuck off.” He opened the door and slammed it behind him.

Not two seconds later, it opened again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Get out of my bathroom.”

“Okay,” he said. He was comically overwhelmed, looking back at me and at the same time reaching for the knob, missing a few times.

“Get out,” I snapped.

“I’m … going.” He finally opened the door and closed it behind him.

I heard the front door slam.