He snorted. “I know a fellow geek when I see one. I can quote Firefly and old Star Wars until you throw up.”

I had to laugh. “Nice image. I still bet I can out-quote you, or at least out-trivia you.”

“Please.”

“Byron used to drink vinegar to lose weight.”

“Leia’s cellblock in Star Wars: A New Hope was AA-23.”

“Charlotte Brontë’s pen name was Currer Bell.”

“On Firefly, Jayne’s favorite gun is named Vera.”

“Pride and Prejudice was originally called First Impressions.”

To throw off the media, “one of the fake titles for Return of the Jedi was Blue Harvest.” He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Draw?”

“All right, tie.”

He shut my laptop and tilted it back to show me the side with all the buttons. “So you can’t connect to the Internet, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s just this switch here on the side. You probably accidentally hit it. Happens all the time.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

He looked comfortable and confident in a way I hadn’t noticed when he was with his brothers. He was quiet, less flashy in his charm, but there was a glint in his eye.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was a good kisser.

He looked up as if he knew what I was thinking.

Which wasn’t possible, of course. And had I really been wondering what it would be like to kiss him? A guy who lived on a farm in the backwoods of nowhere and quoted Star Wars?

“I’ll get us drinks,” I offered. “I know where Lucy hides her secret soda stash.”

He mumbled something unintelligible that I took as an assent. Lucy and Nicholas were still in the living room and were being very quiet. I averted my eyes. The last thing I wanted to see was my cousin making out. Van Helsing followed me down into the basement, which had walls of brick and wood paneling; all it was missing was green shag carpeting. The fridge was in the corner, bookended with shelves full of Aunt Cass’s pickles and tomato sauce. I had to dig in the back, behind bags of tempeh and packets of pumpkin seeds. I knew there was ginger ale tucked inside a box purporting to house vegetable juice. I had to move aside bottles of wheatgrass and vitamins and a jar of something thick and red, like raspberry pulp. I tucked the soda cans under my arm and pulled out the jar, holding it up to the light. It was viscous and only let a little ruby light through. Van Helsing bared his teeth. I blinked at him.

“I know, it’s disgusting, right? I wonder what Aunt Cass was trying to make.”

I took it upstairs. “What the hell is this gross-ass thing?” I demanded, waving the jar. The lid wasn’t on as tight as I thought, and a dribble of thick, red liquid oozed over the side. I nearly threw it onto a side table, next to a fertility statue carved out of turquoise. “Ew!”

Connor was in the living room now, and he and Nicholas stood up so fast, I barely saw them move. I jumped, startled. “What?” I asked.

Van Helsing growled. Gandhi came charging down the hall, also growling.

“Shit, Christa, back!” Lucy shouted, sliding across the wooden floor. She crashed into me and I hit the wall, then the floor. A photograph tumbled off its nail and fell, glass breaking. Lucy whirled, knees bent, staring down at Nicholas and Connor, who had gone from moving too fast to not at all. They were so still, they looked like they were holding their breath. Van Helsing barked once. Nicholas flinched.

“Christa,” Lucy whispered urgently when I sat up. “Don’t move.”

“What? Why?” I made sure none of the glass was about to poke me in the hand or the butt if I altered my position. “I’m fine.”

“Just trust me.” She swallowed.

I didn’t trust Nicholas’s smile one bit. Even Connor looked odd beside him, pale and sleek. Gone was the friendly hot-geek vibe. His eyes looked even more blue and he seemed taller for some reason. I wanted to get closer to him. I shifted, suddenly thinking all sorts of naughty things. Maybe there was a bad boy in there after all.

“Lucy.” Nicholas’s voice cracked.

“Christa, pass me the jar,” Lucy said as Gandhi and Van Helsing angled themselves in front of us.

“You just told me not to move!”

“Just do it!”

I pushed into a crouch.

“Move slower!” Lucy added frantically when Nicholas tensed and Connor put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Gandhi, stay!”

“Are you guys high?” I snapped, annoyed. I shoved the jar at her. “Here.”

Lucy just angled her hand back, not taking her eyes off the brothers for even one second. When she had a good hold, she put it on the floor right in front of her.

“Okay, no more drugs for you,” I said. “Seriously. It makes you guys weird.”

She ignored me and lifted the lid off. Then she used the toe of her boot to slide the jar across the polished wood toward Nicholas and Connor. The huge dogs pushed at us, ushering us backward into the kitchen before I could see what was going on.

“What the hell?” I asked.

She pushed her hair off her face, hands trembling lightly. The front door slammed and there was the rumble of a car engine starting, followed by the peel of tires on the road.

“Lucy?”

Her smile was tight. “Never mind,” she said. “I think someone spiked our drinks at the party.”