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He hadn’t shown.
Wyatt had, though, and he’d brought his girlfriend, Tiffany, and her twin, Melody.
That latter of whom had let it slip that the four of them had gone to the Gold game together. Twins on a double date.
How cute.
And Melody was beautiful and exactly the type of temperament that Jeremy wanted.
Sweet and soft. Moldable.
Not pushy and loud and with a sharp refusal of anything tying them together.
Just a really lovely person.
Teresa smothered a sigh but got up to get everyone another round of drinks, including Wyatt, Ben—Stef’s man—and Rafe, who’d all absconded to the back deck.
Then she settled onto the couch, taking an open seat next to Melody.
(See? No hard feelings on Teresa’s part).
That seat had a prime view of the front door, though it left a bit to be desired of the view of the crappy reality TV show they were all addicted to.
All of that meant, of course, that she saw the front door open.
And Jeremy walk in.
His eyes came to hers immediately, and she braced expecting…something. Something that wasn’t him sending her a small smile, nodding, and moving toward her.
Breath going taut in her lungs.
Because he was coming close and yeah, she might not want a relationship—orcouldn’thave a relationship—with Jer, but he was still gorgeous and confident and sexy as fuck, and that fact bubbled through her veins…okay, no. That thought, thosefactsarrowed right between her thighs.
She sucked in a breath when he bent.
She’d told him to leave her alone. Demanded space. Set a firm boundary.
She should be pissed he was pushing it, that he was leaning in, bending toward…
Melody.
KissingMelodyon the cheek. “Hey, honey,” he murmured in a soft voice.
Soft enough that she only heard it because she was sitting right next to Melody.
“Hey,” Melody said softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw in return. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he said, and maybe it was a little gruff.
Mel heard it, too, Teresa knew because the other woman pressed her palm to Jeremy’s cheek. “Get yourself a beer and relax.”
“Orders?” he teased, covering her hand with his own.
“You know me.” Mel smiled. “Always with the orders.”
He chuckled, straightened, and glanced at Teresa. “Hey, T,” he murmured.
And then he was gone—or well, he’d gone into the kitchen—and she heard the fridge open, the softclinkof glass as he pulled out a bottle of beer, heard the softwhooshof the sliding door, his footsteps as he moved outside to join the guys in the back yard.
