I grin, but my words come out with an edge. "Aw, sis, it's just like old times."
Delaney groans. "And definitely don't call me sis," she says. "Why are you here, anyway? Are you finished with -- whatever it is you were doing in the guest house?"
"You make it sound seedy," I say. "It's not like I was shooting porn."
She gives me a look that could freeze boiling water, one eyebrow raised, and it makes me laugh. I'd forgotten that look. She used to give it to me a lot. "Humph. You could have fooled me."
"Jealous?" I ask.
"Of -- what was her name?" Delaney asks. I can tell she's trying to sound casual but she's definitely failing. "Brooke?"
I smile. "You don't have anything to be jealous of," I say. "Those models have nothing on you." It comes out before I even think about what I'm saying.
Her lips part for a second, and I think about sliding my hands around to the small of her back, pulling her against me, and bringing my mouth down hard on hers. But I don't. I want to know what she's about to say, and I find myself slightly disappointed when she doesn't respond.
"So. Are you going to ask me inside, or are you just planning to keep standing there in your doorway in a towel?" I ask. I'm totally pushing my luck. I want to see if she'll actually invite me in her room. The Delaney I knew four years ago never would have said yes. That Delaney was far too concerned with playing by the rules.
She hesitates, and for a second I think she might actually do it. Then she raises her eyebrows. "Do you really think I'm going to invite you into my room?"
I shrug. "Can't fault me for trying."
"Of course I can," she says. "You're my stepbrother. It's obscene."
"That fact didn't seem to deter you before," I say. "Besides, we're not related. Not even a little bit. Doesn't count."
"Why did you come up here, Gaige?" she asks, ignoring my attempt to discuss our familial relationship.
"Can't I welcome you home?" I ask. "Do I have to have any other reason?"
"You hiked all the way over to the house in that -- what is that thing on your foot, anyway?"
"It's a boot. I shattered my tibia," I say.
"Should I ask what you were doing?"
"What do you think I was doing?"
The edges of her mouth turn up in a half-smile. "I would say you were pulling some riding stunt, but it's far more likely that you broke yourself in some kind of scandalous sexcapade."
I reach between my legs to grab my crotch. "Well, it's a damn good thing that what's important survived," I say, wiggling my eyebrows.
Delaney shakes her head disapprovingly but her eyes twinkle. "Yes, it's definitely a good thing your brain wasn't injured."
I can't help but laugh. "It's been boring here without you, you know."
"Gaige, what happened that night --" she starts, but a shrill voice from the other end of the hallway cuts through the air.
"Delaney!" My mother Anja strides down the hall, wearing wide-legged white pants and a matching white shirt made of flowy material that billows as she walks, the look effortlessly casual but something I know cost thousands of dollars, made by some pretentious designer. Her hair and makeup are styled as if she's just stepped off the set of a television show, and she's wearing sunglasses inside the house. My mother hasn't modeled in ten years, but she treats every step as if she's still walking the runway in Milan.
"Anja," Delaney says. She reaches out with one arm to hug her, as if she's momentarily forgotten she's only wearing a towel, and then glances at me before grasping her towel tighter. "Sorry, I would -- Gaige knocked on the door and, uh, caught me by surprise."
"Clearly," Anja says, peering over the edge of her glasses at me. "Nice to see you out of the guest house."
"Nice to see you without your broom, mother," I say, as she air-kisses both sides of my face as if I'm one of her friends she luncheons with.
She turns toward Delaney and stage whispers. "He's been even more insufferable since the injury, as I'm sure you can tell."
"You're more bitter than usual," I retort. "The three martinis at lunch didn't take the edge off?"
Anja ignores me. "Did we send a driver to pick you up at the airport, Delaney?" she asks. "It was on my list, but I had a luncheon with the --"
"It was fine," Delaney says.
"Actually," I start, but Delaney interrupts me.
"It was totally fine," Delaney says, more emphatically this time. "And now, I'm going to get dressed, if that's okay?"
"Should I tell your father you'll meet him at the office?" Anja asks.
"Um. It's pretty late?" Delaney's voice is tentative.
"Oh, yes," Anja says. "I got carried away at lunch."
"Obviously," I say with a snort.
"Gaige, let her get changed for dinner. Stop bothering her." Anja turns without waiting for a response, and flutters back down the hall, a sea of billowing fabric.