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My pulse scrambles as alarm careens through me. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s…a woman.”
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with one of the socialites.”
Trevor’s mother has been after him to get married. The laugh that explodes out of his mouth has my nerves settling. “No. I can’t stay far enough away from those women.”
“So, tell me.”
“It’s someone I shouldn’t even be thinking about.”
I start sorting through our conversations. An eidetic memory is sometimes painful, but it’s good in cases like this. My mind works back to a conversation we had a few weeks ago. He has an old Army buddy who asked for a place for his sister. Something happened with her rental, and she desperately needed a place to stay.
“That sister. The one who’s staying with you.”
“Fuck me.” It comes out as a whisper so low I’m not sure he realizes he said it out loud.
“Nope. You are definitely not my type.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Too pretty for a man.”
Another laugh has my nerves settling. “It’s funny that people don’t know you have a sense of humor.”
“Tell me.”
“We…let’s just say we’ve always had this hate thing going on.”
“And now?”
As I ask the question, Avery steps into my line of vision, and everything in my brain stops working.
Fuck me.
I don’t know if it’s out of frustration or a request. Probably both. Jesus, she’s stunning. I knew she was beautiful, and hell, I knew she had curves, but I didn’t understand what they would do to me dressed up like that. The dress is vaguely familiar. It doesn’t even show much skin except her legs. But the color of it leaves her skin looking golden. It molds to her body, leaving no doubt that she has the most amazing breasts and a tiny waist. She has what they call an hourglass figure, and damn me, I want to spend time exploring every inch.
Fuck, I feel my cock twitch, and my palms are sweating. As she turns to say something to Travis, I almost growl. I know Travis has no interest in her, but the fact that she’s close to another man has my entire once-dormant possessive side roaring to life.
“Jon?”
“What?”
“What’s going on? I just went through what happened, and you said nothing but ‘fuck me.’ I find it odd since you just told me you weren’t into me.”
I shake my head to clear it of the thoughts crowding every corner of my brain, but it does nothing to help.
“Listen, you’re calling the wrong person for advice. You know, I don’t know crap about relationships.”
“Jon, I can’t talk to her brother, and he’s got a kid on the way. Too busy for me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m in Texas, at a formal function that my grandmother bullied me into hosting with her.” Although he was still trying to figure out what that consisted of.
As if conjured up my thoughts, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and then look down. My grandmother is standing there with a big frown—the one that used to make me freak out as a kid. She stamps her cane on the floor.
“Jonathon, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Who’s that?” Trev asks.
