“Hi.” He’s not shy. The instant she’s close enough, he offers his hand and shakes hers so forcefully, her shoulder jumps. “Dean Warner.” He hooks a thumb Nick’s way. “I already met your fiancé. Just a few days out from your wedding, huh?”
“Uh… yeah.” She peeks my way for a single heart-aching beat. Then she puts her focus back on Dean. “A week today. I’m sorry….” She gulps. “You’ll have to excuse my unfamiliarity, but who are you, Dean Warner? Have you been here long?”
Horrified, I dart forward on fast, slipping feet. “He’s?—”
“Her brother,” he announces.
I crash onto my bottom porch step and groan.
“Her brother?” Mel’s voice jumps an octave or two. “Really? That’ssoweird, don’t you think?”
I zoom up the stairs and shove between my friends. Grabbing Dean’s wrist, I flash a slightly insane smile for the other two, before latching onto my front door and whipping it wide open. “We’re going inside for now.” I herd the muscular fighter—possibly felon—across the threshold and swing desperate eyes back to Mel. “I’ll call you later.”
Her nose twitches. Her nostrils flare. Her eyes narrow.
“Promise!” I lope into my house and slam the door in their faces, then I press my back to the thick wood and meet Dean’s playful, teasing eyes. “What the hell!?”
“What?” Carefree, he slips his coat off and sets it on the back of my couch, then he wanders across my living room in jeans and a bandage.
That’s it!
Expansive back muscles ripple under tattoos and purple bruises, each individual section of muscle clearly visible beneath an olive tan. Dimples sit arrogantly above the waistband of his jeans, and a deep valley where his spine extends creates more contrast compared to his—what are those called? Lats?He stops in front of my fireplace and turns to face me, subjecting me to the cruel and unusual punishment of witnessing the V muscles ducking into his jeans. He has abs—one, two, ten—and in the light of a new day, what may be holes signifying nipple piercings, but without the jewelry to show for it. His back tattoos continue around, vines tickling his ribs and teasing his pecs, however, most of the design stops there, leaving his chest and stomach largely untouched.
He’s saving that space for the bruises, I suppose.
“Earth to Anna?” He can’t clap his hands, since one armremains bound to his side, but he claps his palm to his rock-solid stomach instead. “You in there, Counselor? Did you have a stroke, or…?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and carve more lines between my brows. Outside, Mel and Nick’s footsteps echo across my porch and down my stairs.
They’re leaving… for now.
Remembered rage bubbles in my blood, warming my veins now that I’m no longer counting abdominal lines, so I open my eyes and focus on his.Onlyhis. And his cheekbones, too. And maybe his jaw.
His lips curl into an arrogant smile. “You were saying something?”
That’s right! I was.I push away from the door and stalk in his direction. “Mel—” I wave toward my front yard. “Is my best friend! I’ve known her since kindergarten.”
“Okay…” His brows pop high on his forehead. “So?”
“So she knows I don’t have a brother!” I blow straight past his obnoxiously sexy, ridiculously muscled body, and stomp into my kitchen. “She knows you lied!”
“Well, shit, Sis. Sorry I didn’t read your unabridged biography before continuing the lieyoustarted.” Laughing, he follows me in and rests against the doorframe, folding his good arm across the bad. “I didn’t realize we’d need a unique cover story for each new person who knocked on your front door.”
“I shouldn’tneeda cover story!” I slam my empty coffee mug in the sink and grab a fresh one from the cupboard. “I shouldn’t have even brought you here.”
He clicks his tongue, entirely too fucking casual in someone else’s home. “But you did. And let’s not pretend your motivationswere anything other than self-serving. Webothknow you wanna avoid catching charges for negligent driving.”
I turn and clamp my hands around the lip of my counter, the edge biting into my back. “You told me to bring you here! You refused medical attention.”
“I don’t know that I was cognitively capable of making such a decision.” He shrugs, his face the picture of innocence. “To accept, or deny, medical attention was clearly beyond my intellectual abilities, Counselor, especially considering my unfortunate entanglement with a nearly two-ton vehicle. Therefore…” He flashes a mocking smile. “The only conclusion I can logically arrive at is that I’m actually, technically a victim of kidnapping.”
I suck in a noisy, indrawn breath. “Kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped,” he confirms solemnly. “It puts us both in an awkward position, don’t you think? If you release me, I might stumble toward a police station. What, with how dizzy and scrambled my brain is after last night, it would be entirely possible, though not intentional, that I may tell those fine detectives you hit me on purpose.”
“But I didn’t!”
Chuckling, he pushes away from the wall and meanders closer. “I know you didn’t.” Stopping in front of me, his aftershave twines into my lungs, down to dance with my soul, then up to ensure my brains are as scrambled as his. With a flirty wink, he chucks my chin before reaching around me, setting my mug under the coffee spout, and selecting the button to get the machine going. “I just figured it would be safest for us both if I took a few days to rest before reintegrating back into regular society. I’d hate to inadvertently get you in trouble for the hit-and-run incident.”
