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slammed two more drawers before unwrapping a toothbrush. “You know what’s sadder than the fact that you can’t hold your liquor?”
    Brock spat into the sink then wiped his face with his arm. “Twelve shots within ninety minutes is impressive.”
    Had it been twelve?
    Ten?
    Did it matter?
    After chasing and losing Cinderella in the crowd he’d completely lost his shit, and drank the frustration away. Why the hell hadn’t she stayed at the party?
    Why did he care?
    Bentley completely ignored him and lifted his toothbrush into the air. Light flashed off plastic the color of blood. “This, this is sad, this right here.”
    Brant moved to Brock’s left and splashed his face with water. “Red toothbrushes?”
    “Nope.” Bentley spread toothpaste across the bristles. “It’s sad you don’t need these because have a new woman here every night.”
    Brock rolled his eyes. Right, because he had time for that.
    “What?” Bentley smirked, toothpaste foaming out of his mouth. “You’re a sad lonely bastard. No wonder Grandfather thinks he needs to pick out a willing woman and slap the Wellington name across her forehead.”
    Brant nodded his agreement.
    “Remind me why you’re both here? You have your own apartments. Nice penthouses full of STDs and whores.”
    “Aw!” Bentley laughed. “You re-stocked for us? You’re such a good brother.”
    Patience. Patience. Patience. Brock located a bottle of aspirin and popped two in his mouth then handed it over to Brent, who was already greedily eyeing the white bottle.
    “You invited us back here to keep a watchful eye.” Bentley used his fingers to make air quotes and then shrugged. “But let’s be honest: you were just as tanked after Cinderella left with no trace as to her name or social security number.”
    Brock went over to the shower and turned it on. “I wasn’t upset. I was just…curious.”
    All talking ceased.
    Brock turned to see his brothers grinning at him like he’d just announced he was going to get a tiger like Mike Tyson and call it Bitch.
    “What?” he growled, and then winced when growling set off another jolt of lightning through his brain.
    “You cursed last night,” Bentley pointed out. “A lot.”
    “I was drunk,” Brock said, irritated to find himself on the defensive.
    “Nope.” God he wanted to punch the smug grin from Brant’s face. “That’s a lie…you curse when you’re either really upset or…” He shared a look with Bentley. “When you want something you can’t have, which isn’t often.”
    “Bullshit!” Brock yelled. And winced again as blood surged in his head.
    Bentley held up his hands. “And we rest our case.”
    “I’m too tired for this.”
    Bentley side-stepped Brock then made a beeline for the shower.
    “Like hell!” Brock shoved his brother out of the way. “When I’m done showering I want you out of my apartment.” He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor as he got into the shower.
    “But who’s going to make us breakfast?” came Bentley’s voice.
    “Go!”
    Silence ensued and then Brant appeared next to the shower door. He was holding up a black shoe. Shit . “So either you have something you want to tell us…or you slept with a woman’s shoe last night. Where’s the rest of her?”
    Groaning, Brock let the hot water singe his back as he leaned against the tile and exhaled roughly. “It’s the girl Bentley was talking about…I bought her shoes. Hers broke.”
    “You do realize that’s kind of a weird thing to do for a complete stranger, right? You don’t just buy someone expensive shoes after theirs break, especially not a woman. Buying clothes, even in a relationship, usually means commitment.”
    “How do you know they were expensive?” he asked.
    “Weren’t they?”
    “Eight hundred and fifty.” Bentley shouted from the bedroom.
    Brant whistled and returned his attention to Brock.
    “Go away,” Brock grumbled. “Both of you.”
    “Hmmm.”