The Charmer (Harbor City 2)

Sawyer and Clover had gone back to the papers spread out on the conference table, but his sister-in-law kept sneaking looks over at him. Ignoring her penetrating gaze as best he could, he kept his attention on his phone.

Hudson: Where? When?

Felicia: A place close by. Soon.

What a

re you hiding, Matches?

Hudson: ?

Felicia: OK fine. It’s at the museum coffee shop in 30.

Loving that she was finally starting to get comfortable enough around him to let her secret fiery side out, he could actually hear her huff at the end of the text.

Hudson: Did he use the term date?

Felicia: He said he wanted a quick chat.

Nice try, but no fire, Matches. The tightness in his chest eased.

Hudson: 1. I’m not wrong. 2. It’s not a date, but that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt. Just don’t go all meme stalker girl on him. 3. Remember the other night’s lesson: seduction can’t be forced.

He stared at his phone waiting for the dot-dot-dot bubble announcing her answer was incoming but none came. No doubt she was glaring at her phone and calling him every name in the book right about now for bringing up her screaming orgasm. That was okay. He could take it. Preferably in person again.

“Whatever that was,” Clover said, drawing his attention up from his phone. “It sure did put a smile on your face.”

Out of habit, he flipped his phone over to keep the truth hidden. “Just a little project I’m working on.”

“Another secret one?” Sawyer asked.

He shrugged and offered up a lazy grin. “Is there any other kind with me?”

His phone vibrated in his hand and he looked down, wondering what insult she’d finally come up with.

Felicia: You’re infuriating.

He added insults to the lessons-for-Felicia list because for the youngest of seven, she was horrible at it.

Hudson: Kisses right back, Matches.

Standing, he slipped his phone back in his front pocket, ready to face down the questions that were surely coming next. His family was nothing if not nosy and interfering—not that he was an exception to that rule.

“Was it the woman from the other night? Felicia?” Clover asked, obviously taking to the Carlyle creed. “I liked her.”

So did he. He especially liked the way she’d come so hard around his fingers the other night that his dick had been jealous for days. That wanton look on her face as she bit her bottom lip and just let go, spreading her legs wider so he could get a better angle, had haunted him over the weekend, and he’d jerked off more times than he’d thought possible for a thirty-year-old man with a healthy and full sex life up until a week ago.

“It’s not serious,” Hudson said. “It never is with me, remember?”

After all, she was about to have coffee with that douche-canoe, Tyler Jacobson. The guy she was probably thinking about when Hudson had made her come last night. He gritted his teeth as a tight knot formed in his stomach, the kind made of electrified barbed wire and poisoned lead—not because he gave a shit. No. Felicia was just someone he was helping, a project—one that wasn’t ready for a public debut yet. She was still untreated canvas. That’s all it was.

“Too bad,” Clover said, her tone a little too neutral to be believable.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage.” On guard because she seemed to always see a little bit more of the truth about him than either his mom or brother, Hudson gave Clover his patented don’t-hate-the-player grin before turning back to his brother. “Now, Sawyer, can you be trusted not to fuck up an evening at the ballpark with Tyler or do I have to find a third ticket so Clover can supervise you?”

“Oh no,” she sputtered, her hands up in protest. “You’re not getting me near the two of them. My ears were bleeding last night from all the baseball talk.”

“Looks like you’re on your own, bro.”