“Is he seeing anyone?”
“Do you care?” Aro retorts.
I tip my eyes up, gazing at Lucas again. I saw him kiss more than a few girls growing up. I saw that body on a young woman in my brother’s pool. He’s not so high and mighty when he’s not playing babysitter. Someone—probably many someones—get to see a side of him that no man is allowed to display with me.
“Quinn?”
I avert my eyes, tracing the words I already wrote. “What?”
“Is Lucas Morrow seeing anyone?” Mace asks again.
“I have no idea.”
“A guy with arms like that doesn’t let them go to waste,” she jokes.
I pull on my headphones to get out of the conversation, but I forget to turn on some music.
Dylan chides Mace. “Cool down. He lives halfway across the world. He’s only visiting.”
“So I’ll move quickly.”
Why did I think Mace liked girls?
“He’s in his thirties,” Dylan warns.
Mace flashes a smile. “He knows what he’s doingthen.”
Her long legs stretch out, crossed at the ankle, with her tawny, toned legs bare in black jean shorts.
“And you’re nineteen,” Dylan continues.
“So I’m old enough, you mean?”
Dylan chuckles, and I try to hold back my scowl, but then Mace pushes herself to her feet, and my heart thunders like it’s five times its size inside my chest.
Fluffing her long dark hair, she saunters over in her tank top and combat boots and sidles up to Farrow’s side, propping her arm on his shoulder with the other hand on her waist. The one girl in a group of men crowded around some kind of Honda—I have no idea. I’ll bet Mace knows.
I lower my eyes but raise them again. And then again, seeing her confidence, easy stance, and how her hands move as she talks.
Lucas and Jax smile, Lucas’s gaze on her for so long.
Too long…
I look down. Then back up.
Why wouldn’t he be interested? Why wouldn’t anyone? She’s sexy and can handle herself with anything and anyone. I knew that the first time I met her.
What would I look like with a tattoo?
Dylan reaches over, grabbing a soda from the cooler. “I thought he was leaving.”
I draw a picture of my blackberry blondies, pretending I can’t hear her.
“Quinn?” she says.
I still don’t respond to her, pretending there’s music coming out of my headphones.
“Dylan!” Hunter calls, saving the day. She lays the unopened soda can down and runs over to him.
