But the way women stare—it’s like there’s a blinking sign on my head that reads bad boy fling.
It works well enough.
Gets me laid.
Keeps expectations of intimacy low.
Hell, for a long time it was accurate.
But now that Quinn—
I don’t know where the hell we stand. Where the hell I stand. Only that something needs to change.
“You need strength too.” I dial my flirting up. “Combination helps.”
“Good to know.” Her cheeks flush.
I move to the e.
Shanon curses as I trace the skin closer to her wrist.
“That’s the worst part, I promise.”
She nods.
I slip back into my role. Tease her about all the sex positions she and I could unlock.
It works. Keeps her breathing and calm.
Earns me a fat tip.
And a card with her phone number.
I’m not an asshole. I slip it into my pocket.
She beams as she bounces out the door.
She’s happy.
I’m paid.
This is win-win.
Even if it makes my stomach turn.
“Why you all pissy?” Griffin sets his sketchbook on his chair. Steps into the lobby. “Wasn’t your date yesterday?”
I motion to my face. “Happy as a clam.”
His dark eyes fix on me. They dig for cracks. “Something is off.”
“Why do I tell you anything?”
“‘Cause you love me.”
“You’re okay.”
“I’m your best friend.”
“Eh.” I shake my head kinda.
His chuckle fills the room. Drowns out the mellow jams—his pick.
They’re solid enough, but they’re so fucking chill. Like the lead singer is taking one too many Xanax.
Guess it’s the right background for calming clients.
Even if I can’t stand it.
Griffin smiles. “What happened with her?”
“None of your business.”
“She still a virgin?”
“You still an asshole?” I flip him off.
“He’s defensive, huh?” Walker steps out of his suite. “Hiding something?” He pushes his dark hair behind his ear.
You’d think he’d appreciate the whole effortless act—he does the same thing—but no.
He’s on Team Terrorize Wes.
Everyone here is on Team Terrorize Wes.
Griffin launches into a discussion of my arrangement with Quinn.
Walker’s expression gets knowing. “Tried that.”
“Really?” I clear my throat. Swallow my curiosity.
“Not the education, not formally. Informally though.” He presses his lips into a very dirty smile.
“Now?” I ask.
“You’ve seen the ring,” he says.
Yeah, he’s engaged now. “That started as a casual thing?”
“What else could we have in common?” he asks.
True. His girl is… well, she’s kinda like Quinn. She’s a prim and proper educated woman. Whereas he’s a dirty, depraved motherfucker.
“What is it about smart chicks?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Best kind.”
Even Griffin nods.
“You need some tips?” Walker offers.
“You’ve got nothing,” I say.
Walker laughs. “Yeah, well. Beyond ‘don’t fuck it up.'”
“Thanks for the insight, Casanova,” I say.
Griffin nods. “You have to be honest with her. And yourself.”
Oh lord.
Walker nods. “Last part is the hardest.”
“Too sober for this conversation,” I say.
“You tease, Wes, but we both know—” Griffin starts.
I cut him off. “Yeah, I know.”
Walker shoots him a look.
Griffin whispers something in his ear.
Something about me.
Fantastic.
I’m gossip.
Should be used to it—these guys are worse than any women I’ve ever met when it comes to gossip—but I’m not.
“You got special plans for the big event?” Walker asks.
“None of your fucking business,” I say.
Walker chuckles. “He’s so into her.”
Griffin matches his laugh. Shrugs I know, right.
I flip them both off.
Grab my sketchbook. Check the clock to figure out how long I have until my next appointment.
But there’s no time for concentration.
Not with the procession coming through the front door.
Hunter.
Chase.
And my father.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wes
I push my hands into my pockets. “I have an appointment.”
Hunter and Chase exchange a look. A we know best. You know nothing. You’re an idiot look.
Fucking assholes.
Hunter’s eyes meet mine. “Em canceled your afternoon.”
My fingers curl into fists. This is what I get, taking a job at the shop where my brother’s girlfriend is the manager. “You ever hear of asking?”
“It was fucked-up, sorry.” Hunter’s eyes fill with honest vulnerability. “Really, Wes. I hate to deceive you. But we—”
“We need to have this conversation.” Chase folds his arms over his chest. He’s lacking Hunter’s vulnerability. He’s all steel and fire.
Same as always.
Dad stands behind them, hands in his pockets, hopelessly out of place in his slacks and tie.
The guy doesn’t know how to dress down to save his life.
I try to find a joke, but it’s impossible.
There’s only one subject the four of us need to discuss.
And there’s nothing funny about it.
I move into my suite. Grab my sketchbook. Keep my eyes on the leather cover. “We doing this here?”
“No.” Chase’s voice is demanding. Clear. The same tone he used when we were kids. “There’s a coffee shop down the street.”
“Whatever.” I slide my sketchbook into my backpack. Sling that over my shoulders. Follow my brother out of the shop.
Chase walks with steady, determined steps.
Hunter too.
They keep their distance. There’s still a frost between them. Chase is still completely unforgiving. But I guess he’s willing to put it aside for the moment.
He can team up with an enemy to fight a greater enemy.