Joe grunted. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something isn’t sitting with me very well.”
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s a beautiful woman, with a stunning smile, the few times she’s let go of her terror at being surrounded by a horde of really big men, not to mention seeming to be utterly bewildered by all the children clamoring for her attention. To me, she just looks like a fish out of water. She’s probably scared shitless, bro. Cut her some slack.”
At his brother’s soft reprimand, Joe felt like a first-class asshole. Van was probably right. She’d literally been thrown to the wolves with no advance warning. And Van was correct about another thing too. His family was intimidating. Loud, boisterous. Irreverent, and at times, downright obnoxious. But he wouldn’t have them any other way. A stranger wouldn’t likely feel as the rest of the family did and likely wouldn’t deem this the average, normal family.
His thoughts turned to the observations he’d made—was still making—about her, even as his gaze found her once more in the crowd. She drew him like a magnet, and already he had an uncanny way of finding her, of knowing just which direction to look in order to see her again.
She was beautiful in a quiet, understated way. She looked natural, not made-up as someone she wasn’t. Even the faint freckles that dusted her flawless skin added to her appeal. She appeared wholesome, innocent even, and as Van had inferred, way over her head. What was Rusty thinking tossing her into the deep end to sink or swim?
For some reason, she intrigued Joe, his curiosity piqued, not that he’d ever admit that to any of his brothers and especially not to his mother. They’d be all over him to move in, seal the deal, settle down, get married and start producing yet more grandchildren to add to the already growing numbers.
But it was the sadness in Zoe’s eyes when she thought no one was observing her that made his chest tighten. The way she seemed to duck her head and attempt to remove herself from the focus of attention each time it was directed her way. No, this wasn’t some scheme hatched by his matchmaking mother, because Zoe hadn’t so much as looked in his direction the entire time she’d stood around, her body language broadcasting her discomfort.
It riled his protective instincts, and at that realization, he went rigid.
“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath.
He was attracted to her. And not just in a sexual way. His interest was more than simple curiosity. She was a puzzle, and he didn’t like mysteries, especially one that existed in the midst of his family. Not to mention, his attraction was pointless since she’d barely spared him a glance and a timid hello when it had been his turn to be introduced.
What was her damage? Her story? She had the look of someone who’d seen the worst humanity had to offer, and God knew he’d seen that look often enough in his years in the army and now with KGI to know what stared him in the face. One thing he’d learned was that it wasn’t the women one only had to look at to know they’d been broken who’d endured far worse than others. No, it was those who covered it up that broke his fucking heart. The ones who held themselves together only by sheer will and desperation and the vow to themselves never to give in that kept them from crumbling in front of the world. Women who looked a lot like Zoe, who from the outside one would never guess was anything but a beautiful, intelligent young woman with her entire life ahead of her. But it was those few glimpses into her eyes—they’d been a window straight to her soul—that told him this woman had been to hell at some point in her life.
Denial rose sharply within him. No, he wasn’t in the least interested in her, beyond wanting to make sure she wasn’t a threat to his family. He was simply curious. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d pull Rusty aside and ask what Zoe’s story was. Then his sudden fixation would be resolved and he’d go back to exactly the kind of life he’d outlined just a few days earlier when his twin was giving him shit about being the next to fall. He barely held back the snort over the absurdity of the idea that he was in any way attracted or even emotionally invested in a woman he knew absolutely nothing about.
So why the hell was he besieged by the urge to pull her into his arms and offer comfort and reassurance? Let her know that she was safe here? No one would ever hurt her as long as she was firmly ensconced in the bosom of his family.
Clearly he’d been subjected to his brothers’ nauseating adoration for their wives and the fact that they were utterly captive to their every whim and would move heaven and earth—making complete asses of themselves in the process—to make the women they loved happy. He wasn’t ready to sign on to that kind of commitment yet. He wasn’t ready to give up his freedom for any woman yet, but then again, no one said displaying mild interest in a female or even contemplating what it would be like to kiss her was akin to his bachelor days being over.
Kiss? Jesus. Now he was fantasizing about kissing a woman he’d met mere minutes ago? He needed to separate himself from this veritable lovefest going on around him. That shit might be contagious. Once Ethan had gotten Rachel back and then Sam had fallen head over ass, it had been a domino effect with every one of his brothers, not to mention a good many of his teammates, quickly following suit.
He’d just make sure to steer clear of Zoe until her visit was over, and problem solved.
But there was still that nagging sensation that something was off—that things weren’t at all as they seemed—and that bugged him. What if they had a threat in their midst? Separating himself and making himself scarce was pretty damn stupid if he so much as suspected anything was up with Rusty’s friend.