Hotshot (The Bennett Brothers 1)

“I’ll have Gail send you the details on Monday.” Shaw flashes a triumphant grin.

Chapter 3

Shaw

I take a sip of whiskey and look out across my balcony at the waves crashing in the surf. It’s rare that I’m home before dark, but today, I enjoy the sunset. The whole reason for buying this place was the view. Even though the inside is top of the line, it’s the view that I paid a mint for.

I think back on the day I made an offer. My mom and Bizzy ran around with stars in their eyes. They had plans for this place… I had no idea what I was getting into.

When I signed the papers, they went wild. Bizzy may be a nurse by trade, but she could have been an interior decorator. My place is exactly what I wanted. There’s a strong masculine presence in every room, but it is comfortable. My favorite places are the balcony and my bedroom. I realize now, it’s because Bizzy put her stamp on every inch of these two places.

My bedroom is devoted to family, with pictures of my life everywhere. The warm colors of the walls and bedding reflect what she calls ‘my style’.

The balcony is a contradiction. The bright cushions on the wicker furniture, alongside the outside bar, are completely out of my comfort zone. There are wall decorations on almost every stucco surface, reminding me of glamorous hotels and resorts. But I find myself drawn to the area mostly because it is a reflection of her.

Now, I stare at the water and try to wrap my head around the thoughts swirling in my mind. Since the day in my office and the night at Bizzy’s house, something inside me changed. I can’t stop thinking about her. She consumes my thoughts. I go back ten years, remembering every occasion we’ve shared and how much she means to me. It boggles my mind that I’ve never realized it before now. I’ve always loved her in some way, but those feelings exploded into a new raw need the second her lips touched mine. Suddenly, I was seeing the sweet, little Bizzy as more.

My vision cleared in that moment. This woman is perfect in every way, and I want her to be mine.

It may have been a mistake, but I didn’t think twice. Inviting her with me to St. Petersburg was a natural reaction. Then I remember the look of panic on her face. It wasn’t exactly comforting, and I started to doubt my decision.

I swallow the amber liquid and remember how she shivered at my touch. I knew it was overstepping our usual lines of friendship the way I gripped her shoulders. It was an act of intimacy, more than we’d ever shared before. I was two seconds away from spinning her to me so I could see if she was as affected as I was. Luckily, her tremble was the encouragement I needed.

I’m thinking about things, wondering if ‘we’ can ever be a possibility. These are the same things that should scare any sane bachelor into hysterics.

Her in my house…

Her in my life…

Her in my bed…

My hands knotted in her hair as I kiss her until she’s moaning my name…

My body pressed against hers, feeling her shiver at my touch… again…

“FUCK!” I hiss into the night and drain the glass. I need to get my shit together. This is dangerous. Bizzy is family. She deserves a man who will provide her a lifetime of happiness. A man who will worship her for her beauty and spirit.

Can I be that man?

My phone rings, and I close my eyes as her sweet smile fills my screen. Karma is testing me tonight.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Shaw.” She’s quiet, too quiet.

“Bizzy, you okay?”

“Yes, I, um, I’m actually in the parking garage. I see your car, but didn’t want to interrupt in case you had company or you were busy… or you wanted to be alone,” she rambles.

“I’m never too busy for you. Get your ass up here.” I drop the phone and go to my front door, opening it to watch for her. When the elevator opens and she steps out, my pulse starts to race. She’s in her scrubs, and I realize she must be working tonight. Even in the ridiculous bright material with some sort of dancing bears, she still steals my breath.

“Hey.” She hesitates and leans in for a quick hug, backing away too quickly.

I put my hand to her back and lead her into the living room. She plunks down on the sofa and tosses her keys and phone to the side.

“Sorry to barge in on you.”

“You’re always welcome here. That’s why you have a key,” I remind her.