“Whatever.” Hartley pushes open the stairwell door and ducks through it. “Either way, our business here is done. Nice chatting with you.”

I hurry after her, practically chasing her down the steps. “Aw, come on, don’t be like that. We’re just starting to get to know each other. We were bonding.”

Her snort bounces off the stairwell walls. “We were not, nor will we ever be, bonding.” She quickens her pace, taking the steps two at a time in order to get away from me faster.

“Never? Why so absolute? You should get to know me. I’m charming.”

She pauses, hand on the railing, feet ready to take flight. “You are charming, Royal. That’s the problem.”

And with that, she scampers down the rest of the stairs.

“If you wanted to make me less interested, this is not the way to go about it,” I tell her retreating back. Her ass looks fine under her pleated Astor Park uniform skirt.

Only when she reaches the other side of the lobby does she stop to spare me an amused look. “I’ll see you around, Royal.” With a little wave, she waltzes out the huge oak doors.

My gaze stays glued to her petite body, and I find myself smiling at nothing and no one.

Yeah…

I think I’m going to bang that girl.

Chapter 3

“Ella told me you fooled around with a teacher today,” my older brother says over the phone a few hours later.

I balance my cell on my shoulder as I strip out of my swim trunks and let them drop to the bedroom floor. I spent the past hour in the pool channeling my brother Gideon. Gid’s the swimmer in the family, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Hartley since I got home, and I was hoping a few laps or thirty would help clear my head. Didn’t help at all. I’m still thinking dirty thoughts about that girl, except now I’m also wet and cranky.

“Easton,” Reed growls. “You there?”

“I’m here.”

“Did you do your teacher or what?”

“Mmm-hmmm, I did. So what?” I answer flippantly. “I’ve hooked up with teachers before.”

“Yeah, but you’re a senior now.”

“So?”

“So grow up. Ella’s going out of her mind worrying about you.”

“She should concentrate on making sure you don’t stray.”

There’s two beats of dead silence while Reed tries not to yell at me. His throat must ache.

I smirk into the phone. “Anyway, thanks for calling, Grandpa. It’s nice to know I can count on Ella to narc me out if I do something wrong.”

“East.” His tone sharpens, then softens. “She cares about you, that’s all. We all do.”

“Aw, I feel so loved.” Rolling my eyes, I grab a pair of jeans from my dresser drawer and yank them up my hips. “We done here, Reed? Dinner’s ready.”

“No, we’re not done,” he says, and even though I can easily hang up the phone, I instinctively wait for him to continue because he’s my older brother, and I’ve always followed his lead. “How’s the new QB working out?”

“He’s not. That busted knee was worse than we thought—he’s out for the season. And his backups are two sophs who can’t throw a decent pass to save their lives.”

“Shit.”

“Yup. I had no idea that anyone at Astor who played sports could be this bad. Why didn’t they just flunk Wade?”

“He would’ve left, anyway. Is Val broken up?”

“Nah, she said he was her rebound guy. Besides, she doesn’t think guys can be faithful when couples are separated.” Can’t blame the girl. Her first boyfriend did her dirty the minute he stepped foot on a college campus.

Reed’s sigh is heavy in my ear. “I know. She’s had a run of bad experiences. I hope her attitude doesn’t rub off on Ella. Keep an eye on that for me, would you?”

“No can do. I have zero desire to keep tabs on Val Carrington. Besides, it’s your responsibility to make sure that Ella’s happy. Not mine.”

I hang up before he can say another word. Reed’s always called the shots when it comes to the two of us, but he’s not here anymore. He’s off at college, playing defensive end for one of the best college football programs in the country. He’s got a girlfriend who adores him and a fresh start.

Me, I’m grounded here in Bayview. Literally grounded. Dad told the airfield that I’m not allowed to fly. He says I need to prove that I’m sober and responsible. It’s my senior year of high school—what’s the point in being sober and responsible? Besides, I’m not going to fly drunk. I know better than that, but he doesn’t believe me.

But while I can afford to buy a sleek little Cessna, I don’t have nearly enough to pay off the air traffic controllers. It’s a bitch of a situation and it puts me in a constant bad mood.

I’m stuck doing the same old shit—which includes walking downstairs to have dinner with my family, a tradition that stopped after my mom died and started up again when Dad brought Ella to live with us. After Ella’s biological father, Steve O’Halloran, was arrested for murder, these family dinners became nonnegotiable. We’re not allowed to skip them, even when it’s obvious nobody is in the mood for quality family time.

Like tonight. We’re all somewhere else. The twins, Sebastian and Sawyer, look exhausted, probably from a tough lacrosse practice. Ella looks preoccupied. Dad looks weary.

“You couldn’t find a shirt in that big closet of yours?” my father asks politely. Since Ella joined our family, Callum Royal has perfected the Disapproving Dad look. He never cared about what we did or wore before, but now he’s all over us.

I glance down at my bare chest, then shrug. “Want me to go up and find one?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’ve kept us waiting long enough. Sit, Easton.”

I sit. We’re eating out on the patio that overlooks the huge, kidney-shaped pool. It’s a warm night, and the breeze is nice. The table feels kind of empty with just the five of us, though. It’s weird now that both Gid and Reed are gone.

“Looking a little pale there,” Sawyer jokes. Despite being the younger twin, he always leads; Seb once said it’s to make Sawyer feel better for being born last. Seb’s quiet but has a wicked sense of humor.

Seb smirks. “It’s his pecs. He’s been skipping Chest Day, so he looks pale and small.”

“You little shits. I’ll show you who’s small and weak.” Grinning, I rise halfway out of my chair and shake my fist at the two twerps. “I’ve crapped out logs bigger than you.”

“Yeah, well, there’s two of us and—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dad hastily intercedes before Sawyer can give us a rundown of the twins’ bowel movements. “Food’s getting cold.”

The mention of food is enough to divert our attention. Our housekeeper, Sandra, prepared roasted potatoes, garlic carrots, and a shit ton of barbecue-sauce-laden ribs. The twins and I dig in like the animals we are, while Dad and Ella take their time, chatting with each other as they eat.

“…chance you’ll have to testify at Steve’s trial.”

I’m not paying much attention, so when the conversation shifts toward Steve O’Halloran, I’m caught off-guard. These days, Dad goes out of his way not to bring up Steve when Ella’s around.

At her seat, Ella’s back goes stiffer than the flagpole on Astor Park Prep’s front lawn. “I thought the lawyers said Dinah’s testimony would be enough.” Dinah is Steve’s shrew of a wife, which makes her Ella’s shrew of a stepmother.

“Most likely, you won’t be called to the stand,” Dad assures her. “But when I spoke to the DA on the phone this morning, he mentioned it’s still a possibility. I only bring it up because I don’t want you to be blindsided if it happens.”

The tension doesn’t leave Ella’s body. I don’t blame her for being upset. The twins are wearing identical expressions of disgust.

Steve was charged with murder months ago, but he hasn’t spent a second behind bars. He paid his five-million-dollar bond, surrendered his passport and flight license, and, unfortunately, has abided by the terms of his pretrial release. Money and good lawyers mean you don’t serve a day until you’re convicted and maybe not even then. Dad’s lawyer says that as long as the judge is convinced he’s not a flight risk, he’s free as a stinkin’ bird.