“Yeah. You have spirit dudes to help you out remember.”
He chuckled. “OK, so sometimes we bump into one another. We aren’t supposed to though.”
“Do you bump into Anonna?”
“She bumps into me.” He frowned and looked away. “Like me, death has changed her.”
Great. His ex was still hanging around. “Where’s her area?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Texas.”
Avery felt even sicker. “Has it always been Texas?”
Brennus threw her a look. “You know it can’t possibly have been.”
“How long has it been Texas?”
He inspected a piece of lint on his trousers. “Nine years.”
For some inexplicable reason Avery felt more than a little annoyed. “She followed you?”
He shrugged.
“Your ex isn’t quite over you, huh?”
Again with the shrugging!
An awful thought occurred. “I don’t look like her, do I?”
At his deep chuckle Avery narrowed her eyes on him. This sooo wasn’t funny. “Avery.” He shook his head. “You are nothing like Anonna. You don’t look like her, you don’t act like her and you feel nothing like her. She has nothing to do with what’s between us.”
She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “There isn’t anything between us.”
At the sound of material whispering against material, Avery looked up as Brennus stood slowly and crossed over to her, as lithe as a big cat. He sank down beside her on the sofa, so close she could feel that delicious warmth radiating from him. She gulped, trying to shift away from him but she was already at the very edge of the sofa. He leaned back, his arm drifting across the back of the sofa, his fingers flicking her ponytail. “If there was nothing between us, Avery,” he whispered and edged a little closer, his dark eyes fixated on her mouth, “You wouldn’t be jealous of Anonna.”
Her mouth fell open at his arrogance. “Jealous!” She spluttered. “I am not jealous! I don’t even know you to be jealous!”
“You keep saying that but you know it isn’t true.”
God, the man was insufferable. He may quite possibly be even more annoying than Josh. She threw him a dirty sideways glance and turned away from him to stare into the fire. She felt the heat of his finger on her skin as he trailed it down her arm, goosebumps following in its wake. She shivered and told herself she hated him for it.
“Stop it.”
“I like touching you.”
“You’re a creep.”
“Avery,” he warned.
She shrugged, still refusing to look at him.
“It’s my turn you know.”
Despite herself, Avery whipped her head around to glare at him. “Your turn to what?”
“To ask the questions.”