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“I should have told you. I was about to, but then they showed up.”
“When you ran off from me last night, did you know I was across the hall from you?”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “I had no idea, I swear.”
The fact that we had wasted a night already bugged me. We’d need to make up for it tonight. After I worked my magic. Still pulling the guilt angle, I let my appreciative gaze travel down her body. All the way to the strappy heels on her small feet.
“The man who bought your clothes was my dad.”
I liked that. I could live with it. Hughes money had dressed her. Yeah, I fucking liked that a lot. But it did make me wonder why he had bought their clothing. He typically bought the women he dated jewelry, took them to exotic locations. He didn’t normally hand over the Black Amex until he got engaged to one. Then, she would fill her closet on his dime. Yet Dad had already dressed this one and her sister. Not that this mattered to me. It was just different.
She nodded.
The smile that stretched across my face was inevitable. Pretending like I was upset with her was pointless. I wanted her naked and in my bed—or any bed, or a sofa, or a fucking floor. Maybe a table. The wall or the shower.
“Since I’m in charge of showing you around and taking care of you …” My added emphasis wasn’t missed on her.
She rolled her eyes.
“I thought for sure you’d stop the flirting once you knew,” she said.
Was she crazy? It would take a hell of a lot more for me to give up my plan to get her naked.
“Lollipop”—I reached for her waist and pulled her closer to me, and her eyes went wide as she looked up at me—“it would take a lot more than the fact that my dad is dating your sister to stop me from convincing you to let me have those sweet lips.”
There was a flicker in her eyes that bothered me. It wasn’t what I had been trying for here with this pull her close and talk smooth thing I was laying on thick.
She gave me a serious look. Not what I wanted to see. “Fawn isn’t my sister, Trev.”
I frowned. Okay … so I was confused. They looked too much alike. As if Gypsi was a younger version of the other woman. I shook my head, not sure if anything else made sense in this situation.
“She’s my mom.”
I stood there as those words sank in. Mom? How the hell did her mom look like she was thirty years old? How old was Gypsi? Fuck! Had I been hitting on a minor?
I stared at her, waiting for her to laugh and tell me she was joking. She didn’t.
I dropped my hands and took a step back, needing to get enough distance that her scent didn’t cling to me. Driving me insane. “How old are you?” I asked, feeling like I’d been fucking kicked.
She blushed slightly. “I’ll be twenty in a few months,” she said softly. “My mom had me when she was seventeen.”
Not a minor. She sure as hell didn’t look like one. Thank fuck I didn’t have that standing in my way. But our parents were dating … and Dad had dressed them. That was serious. He might be keeping this one.
What did this mean for my future chance of getting between those mouthwatering legs?
Jesus Christ, I needed a drink. No, I needed the whole damn bottle.
I wanted her. Any man who laid eyes on her would want her. But leave it to my dad to make this fucked up. Screwing up my life every chance he got. Because as hot as she was, fucking someone who could be my future stepsister was too twisted of a situation. You couldn’t have a fling with someone who might move into your house. When it was over they didn’t go away. And the way Dad had been looking at her mom … FUCK!
Four
Gypsi
I had to give it to him. Trev sure could switch roles on a dime. It had taken him a moment to process things, and then a smile returned to his face, and he began introducing me to people. Acting like we were the friends I’d said we would be. What I hadn’t bargained on was the loss I felt. It stung a little. I should be relieved. He wasn’t making this weird. This was all my fault anyway. I should have told him the moment he introduced himself last night. Enjoying his flirting and letting my own imagination think about things that could not happen—it was stupid.
After introducing me to Saxon Houston, his best friend, he excused himself to go speak to someone he had seen in the distance. I watched him walk away as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Which, again, my fault.
