Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(39)

“SHIT.”

Liz winced as her brother’s hoarse curse colored the morning air. There were a couple thumps and grunts in the living room, a few more curses, then the kitchen door opened abruptly. John stood, wavering and bleary-eyed, blinking at her. “Beth? What are you doing here?”

“Making breakfast.”

He made a grunt of acknowledgement as he wandered in and slumped into a chair, eyes bloodshot, skin ashen. “I guess I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Liz pursed her lips and slid the over-easy eggs she’d been cooking onto a plate next to toast then turned to hand it to her brother.

He paled. “On second thought...”

Served him right. She set the plate at her own setting and sat in front of it then took a sip of coffee and watched John scan the counters with hooded eyes.

He hoisted himself from his seat, helped himself to a couple of cookies then pulled a carton of milk from the fridge. He didn’t bother with a glass.

He sat down again, and his head sank to the table.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked after a bit, unsure whether he was still conscious.

He lifted his head and wiped a hand over his eyes. “Visiting,” he said. “Long time no see.”

“You’re not here to see me. You had no idea I was here.”

“Can’t a brother be glad to see his kid sister?” He took a bite of cookie, but at her look, he sighed. “Okay. I came to crash. Had a rough night....” He let his words trail off as he half-heartedly swiped cookie crumbs off his shirt onto the floor and stared at the floor as if it had severely disappointed him.

“Real rough. I should have called the cops on you. Drinking and driving? You’re thirty years old, John!”

“Stop yelling. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Stop yelling? You could have killed someone! You could have killed yourself!”

“Relax. I haven’t had a drink in months. And I didn’t drive drunk.” He frowned, concentrating. “I remember stopping at that store… and then driving here. I was listening to that song, you know? The one about the Pina Coladas? I hate that song. So I opened a beer… Next thing I know I’m waking up on the couch with some cat from The Walking Dead staring down at me.”

“You got soused sitting in your car in the driveway? Don’t you have a place of your own?”

He grimaced and took a swig of milk. “I’m between places right now. Been staying with a… friend off and on.” He sighed and wiped his face again. “But, that’s not working out anymore.”

Liz made a mental note to get fresh milk. “Well, just so you know, you’ll have to find another place to crash going forward. Mom and Dad are selling the house.”

“Huh,” he grunted by way of reply. He took another half-hearted sip of milk and stuffed another cookie in his mouth. “Got anything else? Other than,” he waved at her plate, “those?”

“Just some leftover pot roast.”

“Surprisingly, that sounds really good right now. Do you mind?” Liz shrugged, and John rummaged in the fridge, taking out containers and sniffing the contents as if they’d been in there long enough to go bad. “Is my memory playing tricks on me, or was Carter McIntyre here last night?”

“He was here.”

“Wasn’t interrupting anything was I?”

Liz shoved the eggs to the side of her plate. Somehow, they’d lost their appeal. “No, you weren’t interrupting anything. He came for dinner. He’s putting in a patio for Mom and Dad. We were just catching up.”

“Hmm.” John loaded a plate with pot roast and shoved it in the microwave.

Liz gathered her dishes and set them in the sink. “When you’re done eating all my food, you know your way out.”

“Oh, come on, Beth. I could really use—”

“Your car keys are in the vase on the mantle.” At John’s perplexed expression, she continued. “For some reason that escapes me now, I thought it best you not drive last night.”

“Beth?”

“What?”

He heaved a sigh, his eyes inexplicably watery. “Don’t you want to stick around a bit? Catch up?”

Liz paused in the doorway, resentment rising in her throat as the pot roast spattered the inside of the microwave. She swallowed. “I think we’ve done all the catching up I’m in the mood for.”

He nodded, grimaced again. “Sure. But… before you go...” He glanced guiltily up and away. “…could you loan me a little cash?”

With a sound of disgust, she left the room.

She needed air.

What was wrong with him? Didn’t he even care that Mom and Dad were selling their childhood home? And how could he sit there and make innuendos, eat all her food, and try to bum money off her when he still reeked of his binge from the night before?

Impulsively grabbing her coat, Liz shoved her feet into sneakers and stalked out the front door. She closed it firmly behind her and stopped for a moment on the front steps to let the morning sun wash over her.

She swallowed, unclenched her jaw and reminded herself to breathe.

Her brother and his life choices weren’t her problem anymore.

Liz took another deep breath and glanced at her watch. 8:42. Hmm. So much for Carter arriving by eight. She wouldn’t give him a hard time about being late today. With any luck, it’d give John a chance to clear out before he made any more comments that would only embarrass her and taint the enjoyment of an innocent evening with an old friend.