I patted his head and scratched behind his ear. “Who’s this?”
“That womanizer is Roscoe,” the other guy said.
I smiled down at him as he leaned his weight against my leg. “Such a good boy,” I praised, and I swore he grinned at me.
“That dog has zero shame,” Ford muttered.
That had me looking up from Roscoe.
Holy shit. I’d never seen a man built like him… except maybe the other guy in the room, but my ovaries only perked up at the sight of Ford.
With his hair longer and a beard, Ford looked so different than the man I once knew. He’d been so precise. So focused. He wouldn’t have dared let even a hair on his head be unruly. But now? He was far from having the Grizzly Adams appearance, but he looked like a mountain man. My clit pulsed at the sight of him, making me want to jump him and throttle him in equal measure. The washboard abs and the dark happy trail didn’t hurt either.
“Roscoe’s one thing, but you leave her the fuck alone,” Ford growled at the guy. When his gaze turned my way, his jaw clenched. “Fuck, woman.”
He grabbed the slung towel and moved to hold it out in front of me. For a second, I thought he was repulsed by what he saw, but I glanced down and noticed my t-shirt was sodden and clung to me like a second skin. Even with a utilitarian sports bra and panties, nothing was hidden. I could see the little bumps around my nipples and…oh God, was that camel toe?
I snagged the towel and held it in front of me.
Ford spun on his barefoot and pointed at the guy although the only reason I knew that was because his right arm was out. Ford was too big for me to see around, and that seemed to be his point because he said, “That’s Buck’s little sister you’re eye-fucking.”
All I could do was stare at Ford’s defined delts and lats. From his wide shoulders, those back muscles tapered in a solid V to a trim waist. Why did I have to hate someone so perfect? My body didn’t care that he was an asshole.
“I’m sure the woman knows she’s hot.”
I bit my lip when I heard Ford’s growl. Roscoe nudged me with his nose since I’d stopped petting him, but I was distracted by the men’s argument.
“Why is she without pants?”
“She took them off.”
“Why?”
“They were wet.”
“So’s the rest of her.”
“She was out in the storm, dumbass.”
“Without pants?”
“I have them.”
“Why the fuck do you have her pants?”
Their conversation went back and forth, and I tried to step around Ford, but he threw his arm out as if stopping short in a car.
I ducked and went under it.
“I’m right here,” I muttered. “I have a name. And usually pants. I’m Indi.”
“Buck’s sister,” not-Ford said.
“That’s right. Indigo Buchanan.” I stuck my hand out for the guy.
“Kennedy.” He took a step toward me and held out his big paw, but Ford moved and swatted it away.
“You were part of Buck’s team, too.” I remembered some of what Buck had told me and my parents about his team through video calls and emails.
Kennedy nodded and gave me a small smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. Then the smile disappeared, and he took the lollipop out of his mouth. “Real sorry about Buck. None of us will ever recover from the loss.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t say anything, so I only nodded. Not wanting to think about how much I missed my brother or the fact that he turned out to be a murderer, I switched topics.
“Kennedy. Right.” I cleared my throat. “I remember Buck mentioning you guys are all named after presidents.”
Kennedy grinned again. His teeth were extra bright with his California surfer tan and looks although his reddish hair wasn’t overly long or wild.
“That’s right.” He cocked his head toward Ford. “Our leader here, along with Buck, started it off.”
“Ford and Buchanan, you mean,” I replied, referencing the coincidence the two friends both had presidential names. He nodded. “Your real name is Kennedy?”
He winked again. “Nah. Your man here gave it to me.”
“Why Kennedy?” I asked.
He put the lollipop back in his mouth and crunched down. “Because the ladies like me.”
I had to laugh at that. From what I could tell, that was probably the case. Compared to Ford, he was laid back. Easy going. Charming.
“I’ve got you out of your pants, haven’t I?” he asked.
“Okay, that’s enough, Romeo.” Ford moved to stand in front of me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roscoe settle onto a dog bed in the corner.
I whipped around and poked Ford in his bare chest. His bare, hard, warm chest. I took a second to process that, then got on with my anger. “Listen up, asshole.”