So he spent the majority of his Friday night with his twin drafting a dating list for their mother. Though he didn’t think any of the guys would work, at least it was a start.

And while he wrote down names, he tried not to think about how sad his circumstances had become that even his mother was gearing up to have a social life more exciting than his own.

CHAPTER 3

Justine woke up with the hangover from hell. “I hate you, Katie,” she mumbled into her pillow then swore as banging at her front door stopped her from going back to sleep. She mumbled a slew of curses and stomped her way to the front door, only pausing to see the time.

Eight-thirty in the morning. An ungodly hour by anyone’s account.

“What?” she snapped as she opened the door wide, expecting to see Katie.

Not the hottie from 2C.

He stood in shorts and a tee-shirt holding two coffees and a bag that smelled delicious. He also looked as if he’d stepped out of Katie’s Sexy Men with Coffee calendar.

She looked down at her oversized Friends Don’t Let Friends Beer Goggle tee-shirt that had seen better days. The neck had been stretched so that the shirt hung off a bare shoulder. It also barely hid her short-short pajama bottoms from view. Her hair stood on end, though she’d at least wiped off her makeup from the night prior, so she shouldn’t look like a goth racoon staring at male perfection.

He tried to bite back a smile, but she saw it and scowled.

He wiped the smile from his face and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for yesterday. I came over with a peace offering. Too early?”

A waft of coffee and sugar hit her, and she tugged the drink holder from his hands. “Come on in.”

He closed the door behind him and followed her into the tiny kitchen. Aunt Rosie had an eclectic sense of design, the open kitchen and living room small but furnished tastefully with smaller teak pieces accompanied by light fabrics. It felt like one of those tiny IKEA rooms but was expensively appointed with high quality pieces. Minimalist with everything in its place. As opposed to the opulent bedroom, full of different shades of reds and pinks and clutter.

And mirrors. So many mirrors. It was like living in a bordello.

She nursed her coffee, letting the caffeine do its work as 2C settled in at the small kitchen table across from her. Not 2C—Xavier.

“I like Rosie’s style. Everything’s so neat and organized.”

She snorted and said, “You should see the bedroom.”

He paused with his cup to his mouth and raised a brow.

She flushed. “Not that that was an invitation. I’m not asking you to sleep with me.”

He stared.

“Well, not that we’d be sleeping. I’m talking about sex.” It was like her mouth hadn’t yet connected to her brain, which kept screaming at her to shut up.