Page 89 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

“On whether you want one.”

My pulse stutters.

He doesn’t move closer.

The music shifts to something slower. A guitar heavy and warm.

I lean one elbow on the table, angling slightly toward him.

“You’re very patient,” I murmur.

“I don’t rush things I care about.”

“You care?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Heat crawls up my neck.

This is different from Wayne.

Wayne is intensity, all control and heat that flares fast and burns deep.

Fletcher is steadier. A slower kind of fire, the kind that lasts.

And then, because my brain clearly hates me, Rex slips into my thoughts too, all easy confidence and that gorgeous, addictive smile.

What is wrong with me?

I take another sip of brandy as if that will fix it.

“You’re drifting again,” Fletcher says quietly.

“I’m not drifting.”

“You are.”

“Stop being observant,” I mutter.

He smiles slightly. “Can’t.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too.

The flirtation shifts gradually from light to something heavier.

His knee brushes mine under the table.

Stays.

My breath catches before I can disguise it.

“Still nervous?” he asks softly.

“A little.”

“About me?”

“About everything.”