“Life’s short, shit happens, people are mostly crazy.”
~ Britain Skye
1
SMOKIN’ HOT
Joaquin
Thanksgiving Day, and Joaquin Dillinger—Rebel, to his friends—had been hanging with his close friend, Prescott Armstrong, Prescott’s fiancée, Jacqueline, and their families at the Armstrong estate in McLean, Virginia. After a phenomenal holiday meal, they’d crashed in the family room before making their way downstairs to sink a few golf balls on their newly-installed putting green.
Nicholas Hawk and Philip Skye—known to most as Z—entered the finished lower level. After Z’s obligatory greeting, he pressed on. Z didn’t like Rebel… and Rebel didn’t give a fuck.
Rebel’s close friend Hawk pulled him in for a bro hug. “I brought you something.”
“What?” Rebel asked. “Like a present?”
Hawk shot him a smile. “Yeah. Go check her out.”
Rebel hitched a brow. He hadn’t gone out with anyone in a while… on purpose. No dating, no hookups, absolutely nada. Moreover, he wasn’t interested in some women Hawk had dragged along with him and his wife Addison.
“Relax. Addison’s sister’s in town.” Hawk tossed a nod toward the stairs. “Go say hey.”
I didn’t know she had a sister.
Curious, Rebel made his way upstairs and into the kitchen.
He scanned the group, found his target.
Holy hell.
A stunning brunette with a smokin’-hot body was talking with Addison and Jacqueline. She’d pulled her long, dark brown hair over to one side, letting it drape down her bright pink sweater. Skintight pants, black boots. Her smile coulda knocked him to his knees.
When her large, almond-shaped eyes flicked in his direction, a jolt of energy careened through him, his visceral reaction catching him off guard.
Wow, she’s somethin’.
Then, reality crashed down on him. He wasn’t going down that path. He was too busy, had too much going on, didn’t have time.
That’s what he told himself, but the truth was… he wasn’t ready. Even if she was a total babe.
“Hey,” Addison said. “Happy Thanksgiving.” She gave him a warm hug.
“How you doin’?” He shot her a smile before sliding his gaze back to her sister. Electricity ricocheted through him.
“Sis, this is Joaquin Dillinger,” Addison said.
“My friends call me Rebel.”
“Hey, Joaquin.” Her laid-back tone, paired with a sexy lilt sent energy charging through him. “Britain Skye. My friends call me Brit, butyoucan call me Britain.”
“Brit,” Addison, scolded.
Rebel chuckled. “Good to meet you, Britain.”
Britain’s beckoning, espresso-brown eyes were locked on his, like she was eye-fucking himjustto mess with him.
“Your home is beautiful,” she said to Jacqueline, though her gaze stayed locked on his. “I’d love a tour.”
