I shake my head.
Did I say two minutes? I meant two days.
“So,” Brian sings. “Who is she?”
What the hell? I glare up at the camera. “How long have you been watching me?”
“I wasn’t watching you,” he says casually. “I was watching her.”
Pause.
Wait. What?
My spine stiffens.
He was watching her.
The fuck?
He and Jules just got back from their Eat, Pray, Love trip. A romantic getaway with each and every moment filtered, hashtagged, and Instagrammed within an inch of its life.
All lovingly captioned, my person.
And yet he’s watching my person.
Not that she’s my person.
I don’t have a person. Just as I don’t have any right to pound my chest and lay claim to the voluptuous dumpster fire who just derailed my morning plans.
I ease the tic in my jaw. Maybe I misheard him.
“You’re watching her?” I ask, aiming for calm. Rational.
“I am.”
I see red.
“Well, I suggest you stop watching her. Or the kids are going to wonder why Uncle Brian disappeared from family Halo night after all his devices died in a freak arson incident.”
Smooth, Harrison.
Real smooth.
Brian chuckles. “Easy, big guy. Media side of the house had a dozen intel requests. No idea why. Figured I’d check it out.”
Media?
Was all that spitball defiance actually… fear?
Unease lodges in my gut as Brian continues. “I was going to tell Media where to find her?—”
“Only if you want to die.”
Okay. That came out sharper than intended.
“Relax, Dr. Banner. Not exactly my first rodeo. As I was saying, I was going to tell Media where to find her, but not until I figured out what the hell was newsworthy.”
“Not a thing,” another voice says, dribbly. “Other than Harrison Evans, roughly the size of a small SUV, getting shoulder-checked by her.”
