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Drew emerged from the bathroom pulling a green T-shirt over his head. “You know you’d look good even in a paper bag, right?”
She shot him a dirty look. “You said I dress like a grandma.”
He wagged his head. “Okay. Fair enough.” He went to her dresser and pulled a dark-blue, thin-knit sweater from the middle drawer. It was a V-neck and hugged her curves just right. “Skinny jeans, thigh-high boots, black belt cinching your waist.” He gestured toward her jewelry box. “And that turquoise medallion necklace.”
“You even went through my jewelry?”
“Yeah. Nothing worth pawning, though, so it’s all still there.”
She pulled her sleep shirt off and threw it at him. He just let it fall and watched her get naked. Zel tucked in and filled out in all the right places. Too bad she didn’t know it. Yet. He and Aithan were working on that.
“C’mon, babe, let’s get this over with, so I can bring you home and make sweet, sweet love to you,” he said.
Zel laughed, which was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. She had a sultry laugh that made his dick twitch.
Man, he loved every voluptuous inch of her.
* * *
Tristan was easy to pick out in the crowded coffeehouse; he was the fit guy giving Drew a hard stare when they walked through the entrance. Drew just shifted his hand from Zelda’s lower back to the nape of her neck and smirked at the asshole. If Tristan hoped to intimidate him, it wouldn’t work. He’d survived fourteen years with the meanest fucker this side of the Rockies. Some self-absorbed Pacific Northwest prick wasn’t gonna get underhisskin.
Tristan and Aithan were big guys, but they came with built-in fail-safes. Drew’s had formed only after a decade of therapy and medication. It was fragile at best. His saving grace was that he didn’t have a hair trigger, otherwise he’d surely be dead or imprisoned by now. But a trigger he did have? Threats to the people he loved. That one was a touchy motherfucker.
And Drew definitely considered Tristan Blaylock a threat to Zel, who sat atop his very short list of loved ones.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him around the tables and through the crowd to reach the corner where the scowling dickhead sat.
“Hey,” Tristan said and ignored Drew.
“Hey. Tristan, this is Drew Katterman. Drew? Tristan Blaylock.”
Drew tipped up his chin but didn’t offer his hand.
Neither did Tristan, nor did he stand. Instead, he looked from her to Drew and back. “Really, Zel? You brought the porn writer as backup?”
She tilted her head in that fuck-you kinda way that Drew loved. “It’s called reverse harem, and he’s here to keep me from kicking your balls into your throat.”
Drew fought a smile and only kinda won. She was making him proud. He pulled the table’s only other chair out for her. She murmured her thanks and sat. He snagged an empty chair from a neighboring table and sat beside her.
Tristan looked like he’d swallowed bees. “Shit. I thought we were past this.”
She leaned forward. “I don’t know what we’re past. You wanted to meet in a very public place, which means you’re gonna drop a bomb in my lap and hope I don’t explode.”
“Or maybe I just wanted to buy my ex-girlfriend a cup of tea.” Scowling, he slid a cup across the table to her. “Earl Grey with honey and coconut milk.”
She blinked, obviously surprised. “Uh. Thanks.”
His gaze slid to Drew and his voice dripped sarcasm as he added, “Sorry. I didn’t get you anything.”
Drew’s smile wasn’t friendly. “Sure, you did. You got the fuck outta my way.”
Zel snapped. “Stop. Both of you.” To Tristan she said, “Stop baiting him.” To Drew she added, “Stop taking the bait.”
Tristan scowled. “I’m not.”
Drew brushed his fingers over her wrist. “Sorry, babe.” He wasn’t at all contrite, but she didn’t have to know that. He could be better than that douche canoe in every way.
She sipped her tea then said, “Why am I really here?”
