Roxie didn’t speak right away, but she didn’t look away either.
“Ledger …” Her voice softened. “I didn’t know.”
I stiffened.
Sympathy from Roxie Montgomery felt like someone suddenly switching languages mid-conversation.
“I don’t need?—”
“I know you don’t,” she said quickly.
Her tone wasn’t pitying. Just understanding. Logical.
It threw me so hard, I forgot to breathe. I caught the faint citrus scent she always carried, clean and distracting at the worst possible time.
Talon leaned back. “We’ll figure something out.”
“There’s nothing forusto figure out,” I said. “I’ll find a way.”
Ridge nodded slowly, like he accepted that but didn’t like it.
Roxie kept watching me, a little crease between her brows like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. And I hated—absolutely hated—how it made something twist inside me.
She was supposed to be irritation incarnate.
Not … this. Not someone I kept noticing even when I was trying not to look at her at all.
She took another sip of her drink. “Well,” she said lightly, “it explains why you didn’t call me Roxanne yesterday.”
My gaze snapped to hers. “Didn’t think you noticed.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “You only use my fake name when you’re feeling cocky or petty. You were neither yesterday. It was weird.”
Talon coughed to hide a laugh. Ridge grinned into his sleeve.
“Thanks for the analysis,” I deadpanned.
“You’re welcome,” she said sweetly. “I could diagram it for you, if you like.”
“Please don’t.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Heaven help me.”
Ridge clapped his hands. “There it is. The tension is back.”
Talon groaned. “Can you two just—stop?”
“We weren’t doing anything,” I argued.
Roxie pointed at me. “He started it.”
I stared. “How?”
“By existing.”
I threw a pillow at her. She dodged, laughing.
