The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(36)

Josh, out of his dumb golf clothes. Shirtless. Bare skin, for a moment, is all I seem to see. He’s so chiseled that his abs look like boulders stacked one atop the other with a perfect line running straight to his navel, and below it, leading to that small happy trail I’d love to…Gah. Stop, Drew, for the love of God, stop. I roll over and turn to face him, but I try to keep my gaze north of where it was.

“How mad is your brother?”

Josh shrugs. “He was pretty mad this morning, and then he got drunk while golfing, and I imagine he’s sound asleep in your room and will have forgotten by dinner.”

My lips press together and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have said it,” I say softly. “I do that—get my feelings hurt and lash out. Which might have something to do with the fact that none of my family is currently speaking to me.”

“Did you call them all raging cunts?” he asks with half a smile.

The breeze picks up and I pull my baseball cap lower. “Basically.” I blow out a tired breath. “I’ll apologize to him.”

He runs his hands over his head as if he’s frustrated. I’m momentarily distracted by the pulse of his tricep. “Don’t. He can be jealous of your career and your fame all he wants, but he doesn’t get to speak to you like that. He doesn’t get to belittle you. Ever.”

I laugh. “He’s not jealous. He just has no respect for my career, and I can’t even fault him for it when I don’t respect it either.”

“He wants what you have,” Josh says. His head turns toward me. “I can’t imagine why, because until you dyed your hair and got a little privacy, your life looked miserable, and I imagine it will go back to being miserable. But it’s definitely what he wants. And you take way too much shit from people.”

I frown. Josh would never say that if he spent a moment with me around my family. “I don’t really see myself as taking shit from anyone.”

“You take it from him,” he says. “At that party last summer, a friend of my dad’s asked for an autograph and Six said something shitty about it, something totally demeaning, and you just laughed.”

Look at her rack, is what he said. If you want to know what it takes to be famous in this country, I offer you exhibit A and exhibit B. And yes, I laughed. He was joking, mostly, and it wasn’t entirely untrue. I’m not about to delude myself into thinking I got where I am based on talent alone.

“He was just drunk. He makes stupid, tactless jokes when he’s drunk. The nice thing about your brother is that he doesn’t give a shit about my money, or my fame, so when he’s nice…I get to know he means it. And I’d like to point out that you’re the one who convinced me to stay on this trip yesterday.”

He blows out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. And I shouldn’t have. You deserve someone who worships the ground you walk on, Drew. Someone you can lean on. Who cares more about your happiness than his own.”

I swallow. I’m not sure what he’s describing exists, and it hardly matters, because I don’t want it anyway. Life is easier when you don’t entirely depend on another person for anything, when you hold a little back.

“I’m not looking for that,” I tell him. “It’s like driving. Some people want to take the long, meandering journey with no guarantees, hoping they end up in a good place. And some of us just take the express bus: it won’t get you anywhere special, but at least you know what you’re in for.”

He looks like he wants to argue, and I’m relieved when he doesn’t.

Because he’s the one person alive who could convince me to take a risk, and I can’t stand to let myself love yet another thing I’ll eventually lose.





When I get back to the room, Six is awake and wary. He looks at me like I’m a feral animal skulking near his chickens.

“Hey,” I say quietly, dropping my beach bag on the desk.

“Hey,” he replies. He crosses to the minibar and I’m sorely tempted to ask if he really needs it, but I’m not his mother, after all.

I’m sticky and sandy and I just want to have a shower and not engage in some pointless fight with him. I go to my suitcase and grab a change of clothes.

“You played my guitar today,” he says.

I look up and meet his gaze. I’m not going to apologize for it. It’s one of his backups, and no one would consider it a great guitar. “I tuned it for you.”

“I didn’t need you to tune it for me,” he snaps.

Oh, believe me, Six. You needed me to tune it.

“Josh spent all of breakfast and half of the golf game laying into me about what I said, by the way,” he says. “So that was fun.”

Warmth spreads through my chest. I didn’t need Six to be scolded, but I kind of love that for once in my life, someone took my side. Especially when I’m not sure I deserved it.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” I reply, grabbing my clothes. “But you shouldn’t have either.”

For a moment I’m certain he means to argue, but then he puts his glass down and crosses the room, pulling me against him. I’m in my bikini, he’s only in shorts, and it’s the most physical contact we’ve had since this so-called vacation started. He hardens and I try to ignore it.