Even knowing her intentions, I might mean every word I just said.
Even knowing that the last thing I need is to develop a schoolboy crush on anyone merely because, as her brother said, she donned a dress and swiped on makeup.
Possibly it’s been a mistake to forego companionship while I’ve been adjusting to my newfound fame. I’m rather out of practice at accompanying a beautiful woman for an evening, it seems.
And that puts me at one more disadvantage.
I clear my throat, blink twice, and then find my smile again. “You look lovely. Shall we?”
I offer Bea my hand.
She glances at Daphne, who’s slipping her phone back into the pocket of her cotton shorts.
Daphne’s smile doesn’t contain dimples, but it does hold as much mischief as the smiles of the fairies tattooed on her arms.
Pictures.
She likely took pictures.
I should not have insisted my security detail wait for me downstairs.
Tank will likely gloat.
As he should.
“I’m coming with you,” Ryker announces.
“No, you’re not.” Bea stands straighter. In her stilettos, the top of her head almost reaches his nose. “I’m going to go have a…nice…meal…while drawing attention for the benefit of…my burger bus.”
This is when my instincts should kick in and remind me that she’s a terrible human being who deserves to have a horrible time tonight, but my god, she’s lovely.
Have I ever had a woman this lovely on my arm?
Are my lungs working again yet?
Ryker scowls at her. “I’ll be across the street.”
Hudson grins. “I’ll babysit him.”
“Tank and Pinky will also be there,” I remind them.
The two brothers share a look. Hudson grabs a pair of trainers from near the door. Ryker shoves him and grabs a pair of work boots.
Daphne smirks at me. “I’m staying home and managing the online bets about if you two have another date after this. Might watch TV too. Catch up on my favorites.”
“Stay here,” Bea orders her brothers.
They ignore her.
She makes a face I’ve seen Lana make at our boys when they ignore her as well.
Her frustration shouldn’t make me smile, but I relate to how she’s feeling, which should annoy me since I don’t want to relate to her feelings.
But I can’t deny that it’s also attractive that she understands raising teenagers. Shedid, in fact, raise teenagers, so of course she would understand.
“If we can’t stop them, we may still be able to arrive before them,” I tell her.
She eyes my hand, still out, then lifts her gaze back to mine.
