“I have questions, Red,” he declares. “And as soon as I don’t smell like tequila and my sister’s stomach acid, you’re answering.” “Is this your idea of flirting?” Izzy mumbles to her brother as we head out of the room, her friend on our heels. “You’re terrible at it.” “We’re not flirting,” I say with a scowl. “Cooper doesn’t know how to flirt.” “Neither do you,” he shoots back.
