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“Morning, ladies,” he says, cool and smooth as he walks over to the table.

Autumn grins. “Hey West. We were just talking about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, still looking at me. “All good I hope.”

God, I hate the way he makes me squirm.

“If having threesomes in the jacuzzi is good, then you’re golden,” I tell him.

The table goes dead silent. Autumn’s eyes widen, Skyler chokes on her coffee. Hudson murmurs something about inappropriate.

But West just smiles at me. Slow and knowing. Like he enjoys a challenge.

Then he leans in, close enough to brush his cheek against mine in what must look like a casual hello. Like any man greeting his best friend’s little sister. Like we didn’t kiss in a chapel after saying I do.

“Nice to see you, too, Eden,” he murmurs, his lips barely grazing my skin.

Then he stands. “I’m heading home now. I’ll give you a ride,” he says. “Unless you prefer a broomstick?”

Autumn snorts.

“It’s okay. I think I’ll stay here.” I give him my sweetest, wifey smile. “It’s boring at the house.”

His gaze darkens. “I need to go over your new job with you.”

I open my mouth to point out that he completely forgot about me this morning. And then I realize that everybody’s looking at me. Hudson, in particular, looks really hopeful I’ll capitulate.

And because I actually want a word with this man alone – more than one word, a lot of them, and most of them not for delicate ears – I slide my chair back, slow and deliberate, and grab my bag.

“Fine,” I say, as calmly as I can. “But I’m choosing the music.”

He puts his palm against my back. “Sure,” he murmurs, just for me. “But I’ll be in the driver’s seat.”

Of course he gets the last word. He always does.

ten

WEST

Eden gives me the silent treatment on the drive home. It’s impressive, considering how vocal she usually is. She doesn’t even put music on like she said she would. Instead she sits next to me in the passenger seat with her arms crossed and her brow pressed against the window, like she’s planning her escape.

I should probably apologize. No idea what for, but it usually works.

But I don’t. Which is my first mistake.

I shift gears and let out a long breath. “You’re very quiet,” I murmur. “Should I be worried about your blood sugar?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

I glance over at her again. Her jaw is tight as she stares out at the road, the morning sunlight catching the curl of her ponytail. The tension inside the SUV feels as thick as molasses.

“Stop sulking,” I tell her, because I hate the silent treatment. I grew up with it and I never want to go through it again. Give me shouting any day.

That gets a reaction. Her head whips around so fast I almost miss the flash in her eyes. But she still says nothing.

I glance at my watch as I take a right onto the road that leads to the North House. I have back to back meetings this afternoon. I could have lunch here and take them in the office, but the thought of hanging around with Ms. Murderous isn’t exactly enticing.

She pulls the passenger door open before I even come to a stop in the driveway.