Getting Rowdy

“And vice versa,” Fisher said. He gestured for them to precede him. “I told Meyer I would bring you both in. They have a light lunch set up in the sunroom.”

What the hell was a sunroom? As Rowdy stepped past Fisher, his skin prickled with warning. He didn’t like having the guy at his back. His instincts were rarely wrong, but this time, he knew the uneasiness could have been from...

Jealousy.

Dark, ugly, mean jealousy.

From the second Fisher had smiled at Avery with warm familiarity, Rowdy had wanted to mangle him.

Either Fisher didn’t realize his peril, or he was confident enough to discount it, because he moved to Avery’s other side and, walking too close to her, said in intimate undertones, “It’s good to see you again, Ave.”

Ave? What kind of nickname was that?

Avery’s hand tightened on Rowdy’s and her voice went a little shrill. “Why are you even here, Fisher?”

“Meyer invited me. And of course I agreed. I’ve missed you.”

What, was he invisible? Rowdy didn’t mind being ignored, but not so Fisher could attempt to move in.

“Is that how you tell it?” Avery asked.

“When it comes to you, Ave, I always tell the truth.”

She growled something incoherent.

Rowdy had no idea what all those nuanced comments meant, but they were being slung around so freely, he felt bludgeoned by them. For certain, Avery and Fisher had a history.

Did that history include sex?

Or worse, love?

Maybe that’s why Fisher had been hanging around, covertly checking up on her. In his shoes, Rowdy might have done the same. If she left this area to go slumming in his, only a moron wouldn’t have been concerned. And Fisher might be a dirtbag, but he probably wasn’t stupid. He’d understand the trouble that would come Avery’s way.

Trouble like...Rowdy Yates.

“While you’re here,” Fisher murmured, “I’d love for us to have a chance to talk. Privately.”

Fuck that.

Rowdy was ready to speak up when Avery said, “No.”

Good. So she wasn’t keen on a private chat, either. Suited Rowdy just fine.

Before stepping through the open front doors, he brought Avery around in front of him, which effectively put Fisher at his back again. If he had to bodily keep them separated, he would.

The role of jealous boyfriend was about as comfortable as a cactus seat, but he didn’t give a damn.

“I’ve been a close confidant to Meyer and Sonya,” Fisher said. “I’ve comforted them while you were away.”

Avery trembled. With anger? Upset?

As they stepped into a massive foyer, Rowdy looked around and badly wanted to leave—with Avery thrown over his shoulder, if necessary.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IT LOOKED LIKE wealth had thrown up costly shit everywhere.

“Nice place.” Rowdy tried to cover his awe, but what the hell? The entry alone was big enough to be a hotel.

“The sunroom is this way,” Avery said. Gripping Rowdy’s hand, she charged through the house at a fast-paced trot, showing no regard for the museum-like pieces inside.

Fleeing Fisher or anxious to see her mom?

Being around Avery in this setting left his perception blown, making it difficult to sort out overriding emotions, but he voted for the first.

Since her mother had remarried, he knew Avery hadn’t grown up here. But was this home much different from what she was used to? She sure seemed to take it in stride, going right past a sweeping staircase, columns and chandeliers, marble and cut glass and...all kinds of fancy crap.

Finally they entered an octagonal room at the back of the house. Walls of sparkling windows rose up to meet the twelve-foot vaulted ceiling. The view of a park-like backyard filled with massive trees drew his gaze to a fancy pool that looked like part of nature.

Rowdy was so enthralled with what he saw that he almost missed the petite woman who quickly rose from her seat.

His gaze locked on Avery’s mother.

Something a little sick and a lot needy twisted inside him when the woman rushed over and grabbed Avery up tight. She was petite like Avery, feminine in a clingy sweater dress and low-heeled shoes. Her features were like Avery’s, but instead of the rich red hair of her daughter, the mother had very fair hair half-hidden by a silk scarf. She was probably kicking sixty, but still looked soft and elegant and trim.

Easy to see where Avery got her good looks and that killer little body.

Rowdy felt like a lummox just standing there, an interloper without the right to smile as Meyer and Fisher both did.

Stepping back, he tried to remove himself a little from the personal scene.

Tears hung from the mother’s lashes, but she cupped Avery’s face and laughed. “I have missed you so much.”

Avery pressed in close for another hug. Arms entwined, heads together, both rocking gently side to side.

It was something to see. Really nice.

How a mother and her child should be, not that he had any firsthand knowledge on that.

Rowdy shoved his hands into his back pockets and willed himself to look away.

He couldn’t do it.

The women didn’t just embrace, they squeezed. Tight. So much sentiment filled the air he almost choked on it. He couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe.

Then suddenly Avery was free and back at his side, leaning on his shoulder in that familiar way, hugging one of his arms. Smiling, her own eyes red, she sniffled and said, “Rowdy, this is my mother, Sonya. Mom, this is Rowdy, my boss.”