Not when his clothes have the audacity to survive a night on the couch without wrinkling and his hair is still perfect.
And when you’re off men permanently for having awful taste, I forcibly remind myself.
For good measure, I add a quickAnd his life is entirely too public and complicated.
That last message to myself should be my early warning system going off with all of its alarm bells screeching.
But, unfortunately, it isn’t.
Which means when Bash and Jonas emerge from the back door the same time a tall, hefty, brown-haired man whose suit doesn’t fit quite right and whom I once thought would be my world steps around the side of my house and into my backyard, I’m not nearly on guard enough.
23
Jonas
If I thoughtEmma seemed pale when she walked into the dining room, that’s nothing on the shade of near-translucent she’s going now.
Understandingwhyis nearly instantaneous.
“Hey, Em,” the man in the backyard says.
She doesn’t look at me.
Doesn’t acknowledge me.
But she does put her body between the man and Bash. “What do you want, Chandler?”
Emma not looking at me doesn’t mean he’s not though.
His gaze slides my way, and I actively resist the urge to do to him what Theo tried to do to me a little over a week ago.
“Who’s this?” Chandler says.
“Distant long-lost cousin. What are you doing here?”
His eyes narrow at me.
No idea if he knows who I am or not.
And I don’t mean in theher distant cousinkind of way.
Or in thefamous movie star and heir to the Razzle Dazzle fortunekind of way either.
I mean in thedude who’ll kick his ever-loving ass from here to Saturn if he says anything that makes Emma or Bash uncomfortablekind of way.
I know exactly who this assnugget is.
And I would’ve known even without the dossier Hayes’s team gave me.
I stare back at Chandler Sullivan. Don’t nod. Don’t approach to shake his hand. Barely breathe.
Is this rage?
I think this is rage.
Unfamiliar feeling. Not normal. But that’s undeniably what this is.
I don’t even know the man.
