Okay. Better than morning sex. But still not exactly getting off on the right foot.
“Sorry. I’d come back later but—”
I wave a hand at the stacks of stuff behind me and he blinks as if noticing them for the first time. Which maybe he is.
“What the hell is all this?” I start to answer, but he holds up a hand to stop me. “Wait. Let me guess. You want to hold a garage sale in my apartment. Or Jake finally kicked you out.”
What does he mean, finally? Has my brother said something to him about wanting me gone? No, that’s not Jake’s style. If he had an issue with me, he’d tell me to my face. He always has before. Damn Connor for making me doubt him.
“Neither. But it was time for me to move on. My brother and his fiancée need their space.”
And I need my sleep. Not that I’m about to discuss my brother’s sex life with his best friend. I glance over Connor’s shoulder into his palatial digs. There’s lots of neutral tones and clean lines. Very upscale. Very masculine.
“Can we take this discussion inside? I’m assuming my things will be safe out here for a few minutes, seeing as you’re the only one on this floor.”
“Do I really have a choice?” He steps back, opening the door wider and waving me inside. “I can’t exactly slam the door in my best friend’s sister’s face. Which I’m sure you were counting on when you came over here.”
“Thanks.” I breeze past him, ignoring the jab—because, well, it’s true—and trying my hardest not to accidentally-on-purpose brush against him as I walk by. “I know this is your place and all, but would you mind, uh, putting on a shirt. All that bare flesh is very...distracting.”
He closes the door and follows me into the apartment. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You barge into my personal space and complain that I’m underdressed?”
I shrug. “That pretty much sums it up.”
“I’ve got to give you credit. You’ve got balls of steel, Blabby.”
I wince at the childhood nickname. Okay, so I have trouble keeping my mouth shut. And Gabby rhymes with Blabby. Hence why I started going by Brie—also short for Gabrielle—when I started high school.
“The last time I checked, I didn’t have balls.”
“I was speaking metaphorically.”
He grabs a T-shirt from the back of a chair and covers up. While he’s occupied with that, I do a quick survey of my surroundings.
Sweet Caroline. I thought my brother’s place was swank. This makes his digs look like the Super 8.
“So.” Connor arches a brow at me. “What brings you—and all your crap—here before ten on a Saturday?”
I plop myself down on one of his neutral-toned, clean-lined arm chairs and cross my legs, preemptively making myself at home. It’s like that old saying. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. Or, in this case, the apartment you want. “Aren’t you going to offer me a glass of water? Cup of coffee? Maybe a light snack?”
“I’m all out.” He folds his arms across his chest, pulling his shirt tight over his pecs. Damn thing is doing nothing to kill my dirty sex fantasies.
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Even water?” I manage to croak past dry lips. The more I study the way his shirt molds to his torso, the more I’m desperate for a damn drink.
“Just spit it out,” he says with a sexy smirk that adds even more fuel to the aforementioned fantasies. “The suspense is killing me.”
“I was hoping I could stay here for a little while. Only until I can find a place of my own.” I add the last bit hastily, before he can say no.
But it doesn’t stop him from turning on the heel of his Reeboks and running from the room like I asked him to be my baby daddy.
CHAPTER TWO
Connor
SHEWANTSTOWHAT?
