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The door to the garage opened, and Johnny stepped out, shirtless and drying his hands on a kitchen towel. Aria turned to him, and my jaw locked at her sharp inhale at the sight of him. Objectively speaking, though, Jonathan Hart was attractive; I glanced at him and tried to see him from her perspective.
He was tall, dark, and handsome personified, littered in tattoos and with piercings in places I wish I didn’t know about. His dark hair always looked like he ran his hands through it too often, and his dark eyes always saw too much where I was concerned.
Johnny had been my best friend from the moment he’d tugged me into their walk-in pantry, then through the walls, to escape to the little lake in their backyard for a late-nightswim when we were six. We’d been punished afterward, but inseparable since.
“You’re late, Sariel,” he mused, ducking so that he could stare at me through the windshield.
He spotted Aria and froze. “Oh, I see,” he said flatly.
“Get out,” I instructed Aria. I didn’t wait for her to act before I climbed out, grabbing my duffle from the backseat and heading for Johnny, who’d hung the towel over his shoulder.
“You brought a woman,” he helpfully supplied.
“I did,” I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder as Aria climbed out of the car's passenger side, nervously adjusting her dress.
Johnny’s eyes glinted, a familiar expression crossing his features as he took her in.
She was tall for a girl. Her dark hair, long and thick, had come undone from the fancy updo she’d put it in, and now hung down to the top of her ass. Her dress was skin tight, and as I took her in properly for the first time since I’d seen her earlier today, I realized that I had lost my mind.
Johnny hummed, and my head snapped up to find him staring at me, an indecipherable expression on his face. I pushed past him, giving them both my back.
“Lucy would throttle you for not letting the lady in first,” Johnny chuckled. To Aria, he said, “Welcome to my humble abode; you may come in.”
She must have taken too long to respond, because he sighed. “I don’t know why you’re here yet, but I’m sure you’d be safer inside the house than standing next to a car in an open garage smelling like him—” he jerked his thumb in my direction, “—and wet dog.”
Her indignant gasp made me smile as I disappeared into the only guest bedroom in Johnny’s house. He’d handle her just fine.
I was currently rethinking my decision to bring her along with me, but there was something about the woman that drove my angel and me up a wall.
I tossed my duffle next to the bed, stripped, and had a quick shower. When I emerged from the guest room, Johnny had already encouraged her to shower in his bathroom and given her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear.
I had never been an irrational man. The only chaotic energy I could muster was for my art; my paintings were wildly different from my usually stoic, brooding demeanor, yet darker, too. Despite that, when I took in Aria as she drowned in Johnny’s shirt and double-tied the string in his shorts, I had to squish the urge to snarl at my best friend, or demand that Aria wear something that belonged to me instead.
The deepest parts of me wanted to string him up by his teeth and present him to Aria as a gift. It wanted to fight Johnny to the death for making her smell like him.
Johnny cleared his throat, and only then did I realize I’d been growling low. Aria had frozen next to the island and was gaping at me.
“Put your claws away, Birdie,” Johnny laughed, popping a piece of garlic bread into his mouth. “The poor girl had nothing to wear. I’m sure you wouldn’t want her walking around here, you know, naked…”
He trailed off in a conspiratorial whisper as he moved around his kitchen. Aria frowned deeply at him as she accepted the fork he’d handed her. He was still shirtless, and I grew dizzy with the sudden blinding rage coursing through me at his proximity.
“Put a shirt on,” I snapped before I could stop myself.
Johnny turned to me, a wolfish grin on his face. I sighed, and he cocked a brow at me. “Shit, I—”
“Yeah, yeah…” Johnny waved me off. “You’re on edge, we know. Anyway—” he gestured to Aria, who was poking at the alfredo on her plate suspiciously, “—who’s the girl?”
He propped his hip against the counter near the sink and waited for my response.
“No food for me?” I asked.
He continued to stare.
“I’m Aria,” answered Aria.
Johnny turned to her fully, narrowing his eyes at her. “Pleasure to meet you, Aria. I’m Johnathan Hart, but everyone calls me Johnny. Now, I need you to be completely transparent with me, here; has my idiot best friend kidnapped you?”
I rolled my eyes as I moved into the kitchen to feed myself. Johnny was terrible at many things, but not cooking. He excelled at it, which was why I kept him around, and not his winning personality.
