“Are her sisters hot? Single?”
“Hands off, bro. No flirting and no fucking.”
“You know how to ruin a good time, mate,” Sam grumbled as he followed Mason’s broad back into the house. He absently petted each dog, a big yellow Lab and a small, poofy ball of some kind. Mason led him into a dining room, and four pairs of eyes gawked at him curiously. He instantly reconned the room, noticing about a dozen different things before his eyes halted and went back to her.
Well, hello, Miss Priss. Despite the two other interesting-looking women present, this beautiful buttoned-down little thing immediately snagged and held his attention. She looked like a church organist, a librarian, or a strict teacher. Everything about her was neat and prim and proper. Not a hair out of place, and Sam immediately wanted to ruffle her perfect plumage. Everybody else was blatantly staring at him, but she dropped her eyes and totally rebuffed him.
Well, then . . . challenge accepted.
Why was he staring at her? Lia refused to meet the stranger’s eyes. He was so overt about it, too. It was embarrassing. She sneaked another peek, and thankfully his attention was diverted by Mason, who was proudly introducing Daisy to him.
Compared to Mason and Spencer, this man wasn’t the best-looking guy in the room by far. He wasn’t the tallest or the biggest, either. He looked to be about five foot eleven and had a spare build that complemented the faded jeans and black Henley he was wearing. Short, spiky dirty-blond hair and a rugged face that looked like it had been out in the sun and wind too long. He had piercing ice-blue eyes with expansive laugh lines radiating from the outer corners. She wasn’t sure if they were indeed caused by laughter or from squinting into the bright glare of the sun for long hours at a time. Add that to the deeply tanned hue of his skin and you had a man who was made for the outdoors. He had a presence about him that instantly made the room feel claustrophobic.
Lia watched him hug Daisy, lifting her off her feet until she squealed. He put her down and turned to the rest of the table again to acknowledge them with a grin.
“Spencer, Lia, Daff, this is my friend Sam Brand,” Mason told the room at large, and Lia’s eyes drifted shut for a moment.
Of course he was Sam Brand. Her partner for the wedding. He was supposed to meet them in Plettenberg Bay the day after tomorrow for the mother of all bachelor-slash-ette parties, as Daff had dubbed it. What was he doing here? They had just started dinner, and Daisy quickly arranged a setting for him directly opposite Lia. He accepted the seat with a charming smile, his cheeks creasing attractively.
Something about him got Lia’s back up and put her on immediate alert. So when he focused those intense eyes on her, she pretended not to notice his interest, focusing her attention on her napkin instead.
“So I didn’t quite catch your name,” he said. His voice had an appealing raspy undertone to it. It sounded like he’d damaged his vocal cords at some point in the past and had been left with this husky rasp.
She pretended not to hear him, instead picking up her fork and resuming her meal. Not that she could taste anything—it was like all her senses were being hijacked by the man across the table, and she definitely did not appreciate that at all.
Daff watched her sister, wondering what the hell was up with her. Lia, who always had a smile and kind word for everybody, was positively frosty to the new addition at the table. Daff was seated beside Sam and opposite Spencer, who looked distracted. He was distracted a lot lately. They spent most nights together and he was affectionate in bed, a considerate and gentle lover. But since she’d finished working at the boutique a few weeks ago, their lunches had stopped, and she missed the connection they used to share outside bed.
She turned her attention back to Lia and Sam Brand. The man hadn’t prompted Lia for her name again and instead turned to Mason, who was at the head of the table directly to Sam’s left. Daff tried to catch Lia’s eyes, but her sister was suddenly very interested in her plate, eating with more focus than the meal required.
Sam Brand was an interesting, lively addition to their evening, and soon everybody was laughing at the comical account of his journey from Maputo to Riversend over the last twenty-four hours. Seemed like it had involved just about every mode of transportation imaginable. They were all hooting about a story involving a woman and a chicken in a public taxi when Lia abruptly excused herself. Nobody else seemed to think anything of it, but Daff watched as Sam Brand’s predatory eyes tracked her sister’s movements.