“I just think you guys have every right to be as miserable as traditional couples. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I already am miserable.” His cell phone began squealing like a pack of piglets in his pocket.
“Speak of the devil,” Emory muttered darkly.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like her brother’s longtime boyfriend. In fact, she’d affectionately dubbed the duo “The Chrises” not long after they’d moved in together, since the two men shared the same first name. The name, however, was where any similarity ended.
Her elder brother by two minutes and forty-five seconds, Chris was as mellow as the day was long. It was a personality trait he’d acquired at great cost thanks to their conservative upbringing. Almost nothing got a rise out of him. This trait had often contributed to past acquaintances thinking he was sort of slow on the uptake. What people often didn’t realize was that Chris used the waiting game to manipulate people into doing what he wanted. This was one of the things that made him a stellar divorce attorney. And Emory was utterly convinced it was the only reason her twin could stay in a relationship with her unofficial brother-in-law, Chris Fox.
The other Chris was just as flamboyant as her brother was sedate. A romance novelist with nearly forty titles on his resume and several successful best sellers, Chris Fox was the most high-maintenance individual on the planet. He whined almost constantly about anything not to his liking and shopped like a fiend. Emory would have never warmed up to him if it weren’t for his staunch, unwavering love and loyalty to her brother. Mess with his man, and Foxy grew claws and a set of brass balls.
“I am not answering that,” Chris muttered. “I refuse to listen to him go off on another rant about me not loving him enough to make him an honest man.”
She couldn’t help it—a laugh burst forth and continued until tears stung her eyes. Moments later her twin joined in, his chuckles underscoring her loud guffaws. That was pretty much the way it was with them. When one cried, so did the other. They’d done their fair share of sticking up for each other too. All the way through her brother’s decision to come out of the closet his senior year in high school and the disastrous family reaction that had left them on their own not long afterward.
She finally sighed and slumped onto a stool behind the counter to finish up the last of the wedding arrangements. “Thanks, big brother, I needed that.”
He opened the ancient fridge and pulled out a bottle of imported beer. “Bad day?”
“Not until just before you arrived on the scene.”
He lounged back against the opposite counter. “What happened?”
“Donovan MacIntyre put in an appearance.”
“What did he want?”
She paused in her work, remembering the multiple layers she’d sensed behind the petition. What had MacIntyre really wanted? He wanted her signature, obviously. And he probably wanted to get between her legs. But there were ulterior motives behind his drive to shut down Phoenix Rising.
“What did he want Emmy Lou?”
She shot her brother a dirty look. She hated that moniker with a passion, as he well knew. It was the one part of her backwoods upbringing that she’d not managed to leave behind. Emory Louise Banks, dubbed Emmy Lou as a toddler and reminded of it only occasionally, when her brother wanted to piss her off on purpose.
“Do you know anything about the Phoenix Rising?” she asked abruptly.
He set the beer on the countertop and crossed his arms, settling into one of his thinking expressions. She began to get the idea that he knew a lot more about Phoenix Rising than she’d originally thought.
“Christopher Jeremiah Banks, what have you been hiding from me?”
The ghost of a grin played at the corners of his mouth. “Tit for tat, Emmy Lou.”
“Screw that, I’ll call Foxy and tell him where you are right now if you don’t tell me what you know.”
“That’s playing dirty.” He frowned. “I’m getting to it.”
She sighed, drumming her fingers impatiently on the countertop, the arrangement on the counter before her forgotten. If he was taking this long to tell her what he knew, it put some credence to the rumors MacIntyre had heard. It would be just like Chris to keep something this interesting a secret.
“Can I ask what MacIntyre and the Phoenix could possibly have in common?”
“He wants to shut it down.”
“Does he now?”
She could see the lawyer wheels turning in his head and wondered why. “What’s the big deal? MacIntyre was going on about some unproven rumors that customers at the Phoenix can get a side of down-and-dirty sex on the floor with their draft beer.”