Her knee gave a rude shove to his shoulder. “Baloney. You—”

“Cut to the chase, honey, because I have things to tell you, too.” And the sooner they got to it, the sooner he could get her inside, in bed, and against him.

Drawing her knees up and closing her arms around herself, she said, “Fine. I want to have sex with you. I want to be with you.”

He cracked one eye open. “If only we could stop right there.”

“But,” she said, not stopping, “there are some things I have to take care of on my own, and you’re just going to have to accept that.”

“We’re talking about your foster brothers?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I know you want to help.”

“Help?” She made it sound like he wanted to carry groceries for an old lady.

Appealing to him, she added softly, “And I love how protective you are, I really do.”

He clenched his molars. Was that all she loved? “Protective, huh?”

“It’s part of who you are.”

Did she think he got this involved with every woman he’d slept with? Soon he’d have to explain a few things to her.

Once he figured them out himself.

She forged on. “The thing is, I’ve thought about this all day.”

He should have been with her. Never before had he resented his various training, but today his thoughts had stayed centered on her even as he went through his routines. He’d sweated his ass off doing cardio, then strength building. He’d sparred, working hits and kicks, different combos, and then concentrated on his ground game.

And through it all, a part of his mind had been centered on seeing Cherry.

“If you interfere, it will only make things worse.”

If he interfered? What a joke, since already she’d interfered with his life in a big way. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he stared up at the moon. “A lot happened tonight.”

Jerking around, expression stricken, she stared at him. “What?”

“I think Stack and Vanity are...I dunno. In an arrangement.”

The fear faded from her widened eyes and she repeated, “Stack and Vanity?”

“Yeah, surprised me, too,” he said, though he knew that wasn’t what she’d meant. His change of topic threw her off, and maybe that was a good thing. It’d give him a moment to regroup. Plus, surprising her just might make her less guarded—then he could really make some headway in the trust department. “Stack is such a player and from what I’ve seen, Vanity hasn’t dated at all since moving here.”

“You’re all players.” Diverted, she said, “I kept thinking you’d ask Vanity out.”

“No.” Even when he’d been resisting Cherry, he hadn’t wanted to do anything that might hurt her. As she’d already pointed out, he knew how she felt about him—physically at least.

Knowing he could have her had kept him awake many nights.

Getting together with Vanity without Cherry knowing would have been difficult since they all hung together. It hadn’t seemed worth the trouble, and beyond that, it wouldn’t have been honorable.

“She’s beautiful.”

“That she is.” But he’d already met Cherry by then, so no one else had appealed to him. He glanced her way. “So are you.”

Cherry didn’t respond to that, choosing instead to keep speculating on Vanity’s social calendar. “It’s odd that she doesn’t get asked out. I think guys are intimidated by her. Nothing else makes sense.”

“I hadn’t even considered that.” Maybe he’d clue Stack in, give him an excuse to jump the gun a little since the wedding was still a way off.

“She’s nice.”

Did he hear jealousy? He looked over at her. The porch light behind them made a halo of her fair hair. “Stack’s going to take her to the wedding.”

Cherry relaxed enough to smile. “Do you realize we all talk about it as if it’s the only wedding to ever happen? It’s not Cannon and Yvette’s wedding. It’s the wedding. Like for royalty or something.”

It amused him, too. “Yeah.”

She leaned into him. “I assume we’ll go together?”

He caught her wrist, pulled her hand over to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, then her palm. “Already looking forward to it.” Knowing she wouldn’t expect it, he kept hold of her hand as he told her, “Leese Phelps is in town.”

He felt the flinch of fear as her fingers tightened on his. “What?”




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