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Kris said the stubbornness proved Skylar and Nate were related, given they looked so different. Nate, in retaliation, had pinned Kris beneath him and had his way with her, keeping her on edge for an hour until she’d apologized and begged for release.
That had been a fun night…
“Excuse me.” The shy voice tore Nate from his stroll down X-rated memory lane.
The speaker, a brunette clad in the same graduation paraphernalia as Skylar, stared at him with starry eyes and pink cheeks… “I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Nate Reynolds?”
Nate shifted gears and flashed the smile he reserved for fans: friendly but professional, charming but not flirtatious. “Yep.”
The girl squealed in excitement, the stars in her eyes multiplying. “Do you mind if I get a picture? I’m sorry—I know this isn’t the best time, but I am yourbiggestfan! I watchedTriple Vendettain the theater three times!”
“Sure,” Nate said easily, earning himself another squeal.
The girl shoved her phone into what had to be her mother’s hand—they had the same hair color and similar features—and grinned so hard he was surprised her face didn’t crack.
After that, the floodgates opened, and everyone in the vicinity wanted a picture, an autograph, a handshake. Nate indulged most of them, but after the thirteenth or fourteenth meet and greet, he politely excused himself, saying he needed to return to his family.
As his impromptu fan circle dissipated, Nate found Kris, Teague, and his family staring at him with varying degrees of grins and smirks.
“My brother, the big action star,” Skylar said dramatically. “I should sell embarrassing baby photos of you on eBay for extra cash.”
“Do it and I’m impounding your car,” Nate threatened. He’d bought Skylar a BMW as a belated graduation/congrats-on-getting-into-Stanford present with the proceeds from his first movie.
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“Fine.” She pouted. “No baby pics for sale, but the BMW better still be here when I come back from Asia.”
“Only if you check in at least twice a week and bring back one of those lanterns from Vietnam. They look cool as fuck. Sorry,” Nate added when his father frowned at the f-bomb.
Michael shook his head and sighed.
“How do you put up with him?” Skylar asked Kris.
Kris laughed. “I have my ways.”
The youngest Reynolds wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to know.”
They hung around on campus for a while longer—Skylar seemed to have separation anxiety and stared at every building, tree, and shrub with sad, nostalgic eyes—before heading out for lunch.
Nate fell into step with Teague while Kris, Skylar, and Michael debated where to eat.
“Break her heart and I’ll break your face—to start,” Nate said without preamble. His smile came off more threatening than friendly. “Got it?”
Teague appeared amused. “Understood. You don’t have to worry—I’d rather die than hurt Sky.”
“Good, because that’s what’s going to happen if she so much as sheds a tear over you.”
The other man chuckled, and Nate debated the merits of punching him in the face even though he technically hadn’t done anything wrong except breathe and exist.
Oh, and date Nate’s sister.
“You and Kris seem to be in a good place,” Teague said. “I haven’t seen her this happy in…well, ever.”
Nate’s “smile” widened until he was all but baring his teeth. “We are, so don’t get any ideas.”
“I’m not.” Teague’s own smile was wry. “I really like Skylar, and Kris and I have always just been friends.”
