She shrugged, sheepish. "We have so known each other too long."
His grin flickered. "I'll take Faith's bathroom. Go on and take your shower."
"Fine." She headed toward the bathroom, then paused and turned back. "But shave in here, okay? I don't think any little girl wants to see daddy whiskers in her girlie pink bathroom."
"Fair enough," he said, then grabbed some jeans and a T-shirt out of his dresser and headed into the hall.
She was showered and back in the robe when he returned and knocked on the bathroom door, now wearing jeans and no shirt, presumably so he could shave without worrying about his clothes.
"All yours," she said, grabbing her hairbrush and heading into the bedroom to rummage in her suitcase. The clock said eight forty-five. Reece was coming at nine, and she had a job interview at eleven. She'd packed a dress for today, but in her discombobulated state last night, she hadn't hung it up. Now, of course, it was a wrinkled mess, and she didn't have time to iron, have breakfast with the guys, and get across town to the interview on time.
Frowning, she laid the dress out on the bed as she eyed the bathroom, thinking that she'd turn the shower on full blast and steam the wrinkles away as soon as Brent was out of there. In the meantime, maybe a little coffee would dissolve the rest of the cobwebs in her head.
With a quick tug on the sash to tighten her robe, she moved into the hallway that led to the kitchen. As she passed the living room, the front door opened, and Reece walked in, calling out, "Hey, I'm here," and then stopping short when his gaze landed on her.
Jenna froze, last night's fantasies and dreams rushing back to her--along with the awkward realization that she was naked under her robe. A completely uninteresting fact five minutes ago, now it seemed like the most important thing in the world.
"Hi," she said, her hand rising to hold the neck of the robe together. "So, um, hey." God, she sounded like an idiot. "Aren't you early?"
"A little. That a problem?" He took a step toward her, his brows knit and his mouth a thin line. He looked confused, and why wouldn't he be? When had any of the three of them ever cared if the others were early?
"Duh. No. It was just an observation. Um, I was just about to put on some coffee. Want some?" Her smile felt wobbly, and she hurried into the kitchen, wishing that she could pull the fantasies out of her head, crumple them up, and throw them away. Barring that, she wished that she could at least act normal.
He followed her into the kitchen, then leaned against the pantry door, still looking wary. She opened the cupboard then said a silent thank you that Brent didn't have any beans ground. It gave her an excuse to fill the grinder, turn the gizmo on, and think.
When she released the button and the racket stopped, she turned back to Reece just in time to see his eyes go wide. He was looking down the hallway at something outside her line of sight, and she stepped around the counter so she could see what had caught his eye.
The what was Brent, coming toward them as he pulled a T-shirt over his head, a dab of shaving cream still on his face. "About your dress on the bed," he was saying. "Do you want me to hang it up for you?" His head emerged, and he looked at Reece with surprise. "Oh, hey. I didn't know you were here alread--"
But that was all he said. Because the next second, Reece's fist flew out and landed--pow!--on Brent's jaw.
Chapter Six
Reece pulled his arm back, appalled by what he'd just done--and at the same time, certain he'd do it again in a heartbeat.
"Reece!" Jenna's scream cut through the rage and jealousy and betrayal that clung to him like mist. He turned to see her staring him down, Brent's robe tight around her body. She was probably naked underneath, and the image of Brent's hands on her filled his mind. Brent stroking her, taking advantage.
Taking what was his.
No. Reece clenched his fist again, this time as much in defense against his own thoughts as against the fury that still bubbled inside him.
"Christ, man." Brent rubbed his jaw, manipulating it from side to side like he was checking for broken bones. "What the hell was that for?"
"We're supposed to be watching out for her, not fucking her."
"Have you lost your mind? We haven't--"
"Watching out for me?" Jenna's voice rose with indignation. "Who elected you to the posse?" She stepped in front of him, her back to Brent. "Because in case you missed the memo, I can sleep with whoever I want to."
Bile rose in Reece's throat. He'd been right. Oh, holy fuck, he'd been right.
"And what the hell do you think you're doing coming in here like a warden and throwing punches?" She took another step and got right in his face, so close he could count her freckles, dark against her pale, angry skin. He was struck by an overwhelming urge to taste each one. Either that or grab her by the arms and shake her.
Or maybe he should gather her up, kiss her hard, and show her once and for all whose bed she belonged in, because, goddammit, if he'd known that Brent would--
"And how is who I sleep with any of your business?" Jenna continued, interrupting the barrage of thoughts that burst through his mind like machine gun fire. "
Did I say anything about Megan? Or about the dozens of women before her?"