Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(12)

“Oh, okay. That’s fair.” I open my bag, and the pepper spray peeks out of its small confinement.

Nico grabs the can, inspecting the label and expiry date. “Why do you have this, Mia?”

He uses my name a lot. It’s intimate... like we’re in bed in the heat of the moment, and he’s trying to draw my attention.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“I don’t like repeating myself, kid. Most people don’t buy pepper spray unless they feel threatened, so I’ll ask again. Why do you think you need to have this on you?”

“No reason.”

He’s silent for a whole minute, grinding his teeth before he exhales in a sharp gush. “You’re a lousy liar. This...” He shoves the can back in my purse, “...is shit. If you need it, get something with a better range.”

That’s what Cody told me when I showed it to him a week after the incident that forced me to buy it.

One evening. One date. A scarred psyche forever.

The triplets were there the night Asher Woodward spiked my drink and dragged me out of the club. They never acknowledged my existence before but came looking for me when I disappeared from the booth opposite theirs. They found me just in time. Twenty seconds later and Asher would’ve gotten what he wanted.

Once Cody pulled him away, I puked all over Colt’s shoes. He still finds it funny. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only time the triplets saw me throw up. During the past year, they held my hair at least half a dozen times.

“Cody said the same thing. He wanted Shawn to get me a taser, but I don’t think I’d have the guts to use it.”

Shawn is Nico’s oldest brother and Deputy Chief of police in Newport Beach. There’s also Theo, who designs games, and Logan, who took over the largest construction company in The OC once Grandad Hayes retired.

“A taser?” Nico seethes. “And you think I’ll believe you don’t have a reason for that can in your bag? Why do you need it?”

“I don’t. Cody’s overreacting.” I nip the topic in the bud by handing him my phone, so he can save his playlist in my Spotify library.

A moment later, we’re walking again, the atmosphere no longer casual. I don’t like the sudden silence or his obvious exasperation. I guess he saw right through my lie.

The entrance to Q comes into view when we round the corner. Colt casually leans against the wall, phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He lifts his head, probably hearing my heels clicking. The triplets are alike, but they’re different from Nico. Shorter by about three inches, skinnier—maybe because of their age, and lighter in complexion.

“I found her in Rave,” Nico says.

“And you thought you’ll escort her? Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

Instead of retreating, Nico balls his hands into tight fists. “Where’s Cody?”

“Inside,” Colt huffs, raking his fingers through his dark curls, styled to the front and shorter on the sides. “He’s getting you a drink, Mia. I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes because he wants to dance. I doubt he’ll let you rest tonight.”

Good. It’s been a while since we went out together. All three of them are great dancers. Colt has the best moves, Conor makes me dizzy when he twirls me around too fast, and Cody takes the longest to run out of steam.

“That’s exactly what I need tonight. I’ll go find him.” I turn to Nico with one more wave. It looks childish... no wonder he calls me a kid. I should stop doing that. “Thank you.”

“Don’t let her go in alone.” He glares past me at his brother. “Either you go with her, or I will.”

“I’ve got her, Nico.”

They stare each other down like it’s a game, and the first to avert his gaze loses.

Colt does.

Of course it’s Colt. Nico doesn’t back down.

His eyes are on me next, the intensity of his gaze heating my cheeks. “Be good, Mia,” he says, drawing out my name in a way that makes me wet with need.

Lord, I think he could talk me to an orgasm.

FIVE
Nico

THE SOUND OF THE PIANO greets me when I enter my house after a long day at work. It’s been over two weeks since someone touched that thing. And just like last time, the noise in my head fades into the background.

I don’t have to walk into the living room to know Mia’s there, playing “Painting Greys” by Emmit Fenn—one of the songs from my playlist.

I didn’t expect her to listen.

Leaving the keys on the side table, I cross the hallway far too eagerly. She looks obscenely cute in a pink pinafore dress and a long-sleeved top. No heels today, just snow-white sneakers. I make a mental note to ask Cody if his girl always looks like a little marshmallow.

Wrong visual. Marshmallows are food. Food is meant to be eaten, and fuck if eating Mia hasn’t crossed my mind a million times already.

“Hi,” she says without glancing backward. “Do you mind?”

I’m not sure how she knows it’s me. Whether she distinguishes my step from the triplets or if she smells my cologne.

“Not at all. Have at it.”

I pull my AirPod out and take a seat on the armrest of the couch, watching her play. She tilts her head, grazing her cheek over her shoulder. I don’t think it’s a nervous gesture. More like she’s seeking comfort. “Your brothers are getting ready, and I couldn’t help myself. I love this piano.”