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“I take it your dad doesn’t like Nigel.”
“No. Yet my dad doesn’t even know Nigel,” she said, frustrated. “He’s never even met him. He just doesn’t like that Nigel is from London.”
Sullivan laughed. “Eddie hates London? What the hell is wrong with London?”
“Nothing. He hates that Nigel has no intention of ever settling down in Beaver Bend, Minnesota. He hates that my mother moved me to New York and took me away from him and got me into modeling and wrecked my dad’s little sidekick buddy, Eddie Junior.” Edwina paused and took a breath.
Holy shit, where had all that come from?
She sank onto the sofa, her knees suddenly wobbly. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, you don’t need to hear my family shit.”
But Sullivan entered the apartment and sat down on the chair opposite her. “It’s okay. I get it. I have plenty of my own family shit. My mother left when I was a toddler, never to be seen again. My father called me an asshole as a term of endearment and my sister thinks I’m some kind of playboy bad boy that I think grossly overestimates my derelict achievements.”
That made her laugh softly. “Family is weird, isn’t it?”
“Complicated at the very least. But at least they love us, right?” Sullivan shrugged. “I always assumed that parents know what the hell they’re doing. Until Finn was born. Then I realized that a good portion of your time as a parent is spent wondering if you’re doing it right.” He grinned. “Odds are, you’re not.”
Edwina could see the anxiety Sullivan was masking with his casual grin. It made her heart go out to him. She couldn’t imagine losing your spouse when your child was just a baby. “It all works out in the end, right? Look at us. We’re totally fine.”
He laughed and nodded. “Totally. So fine. We are fucking amazing, Eddie.”
“That’s what I tell myself every day,” she joked.
“It’s true. You were a model?” he asked suddenly, sounding intrigued.
And sexier than he had any right to be.
She nodded. “It wasn’t as fun as hockey but I will say it did help my confidence.”
“You certainly have the body for it.”
Why did that make her nipples harden? Alarmed, she crossed her arms over her chest. Sullivan had no business commenting on her body.
He seemed to realize it. He made a face. “That sounded wrong. I wasn’t flirting with you, I swear.”
Which was great. He shouldn’t flirt with her. Yet that also distressed her. Why didn’t hewantto flirt with her?
Aside from the obvious, which was that she’d been discussing her boyfriend with him.
“I just meant there’s no denying what we can all see, which is that you have the perfect body for a supermodel.” He grimaced. “Wait. I think I said it again. Holy shit, what is wrong with me?”
What was wrong with him? What on earth was wrong withher? She was flustered and hot in places that had no business feeling warm and tingly.
“It’s not like I’ve seen your body,” he added.
He’d seen a decent portion of it. “I was in a towel,” she pointed out.
“Exactly. Right. I saw some of your body, that’s true. And I couldn’t help but notice it, because it was there, and I have eyes, and that it’s very… modelesque.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Her mouth felt too dry to speak anyway. “Modelesque?”
“You know, long legs, a narrow waist, a tight—” Sullivan abruptly cut himself off. He ran his gaze over her, rubbing his chin.
A tight what? Ass? He’d been looking at her ass? Edwina flicked her tongue across her bottom lip to moisten it, searching for a response that was both friendly and yet censorious.
Her ass was off-limits. Only Nigel had the right to comment on the tightness or lack thereof of her ass. “I think we should change the subject.”
“Damn it, that didn’t sound right either. I’m so fucking sorry. I think I’m broken, Eddie. I don’t know how to talk to you without sounding like I’m hitting on you.”
