“That works. Ask around and see who wants to join us.”
“Gage is out.” Denver upended a bottle of water and guzzled down half of it. When he finished, he mopped his face with the towel again. “He and Harper are burning up the sheets at his place. Making up for lost time or something, Harper told me.”
Cannon noticed how Yvette tried not to stare. But again and again, her gaze went over Denver. He didn’t see the heat of interest in her eyes, just the gawking of a woman surprised to be near a mostly naked man with muscles pumped from a workout.
He supposed if a woman stood in front of him dressed the same, it’d distract him, too.
“Sounds like Harper.”
“They’re so nauseating about it, you’d think they were newlyweds.”
To Yvette, Cannon explained, “Gage was supposed to fight in Japan, too, but he took an elbow to the eye in practice and after too damn many stitches he was medically ineligible to participate.”
“Wow,” Yvette said with sympathy. “What a letdown that had to have been for him.”
“Sounds like Harper is helping him get over it.”
“That she is.” Denver drew out a chair and straddled it, bracing his arms along the back, the water bottle held loosely in one hand, the towel flung over his shoulder. “He’ll fight again and he knows it. But I’m going to miss their verbal sparring.”
“They set sparks off each other,” Cannon told her. “Pretty damn amusing most of the time.”
“So, uh...” Denver again drank from the bottle, finishing it off. “Cherry is in Japan with Merissa?”
Damn it. He didn’t want Yvette to know his house was empty, making it the perfect place for him to stay. Too late now, though. But before he gave it all away, he shot Denver a look. “Why are you asking?”
“No reason.”
“Try again.”
Going oddly defensive, Denver grumbled, “Just curious, okay?”
Yvette looked back and forth between them.
“Cherry lives with my sister,” Cannon reminded him quietly.
“Yeah, no shit. It’s not a secret.”
“No, but if you’re sniffing around Cherry, then it becomes my business.”
Denver pushed back his chair. “It was a simple question, Saint. No reason to get all pissy about it.”
Cannon stood, too. Damn it, Denver wanted to hook up with Cherry. He scowled. “Have you hit on her yet?”
“Cherry isn’t your sister, so back off.”
“This brings us full circle, since Cherry is living with my sister.”
“So what, man? It’s not like I plan to stage a damned orgy with your sister as the audience.”
Hearing the word orgy in the same sentence with his sister made Cannon rigid from his eyebrows down to his ankles. “You—”
Suddenly Armie was there, hauled in by Yvette.
Both Denver and Cannon stared at them.
“Yeah,” Armie said, patting Yvette’s hand on his arm. “I was fetched to referee so you two big dopes wouldn’t maim each other in front of the lady.”
Yvette looked uneasy but determined.
Forcing himself to relax, Cannon looked at Yvette. “You thought we’d come to blows?”
She tugged unobtrusively at the hand Armie continued to hold in the crook of his arm. “I wasn’t sure.”
Seeing Yvette’s unease, Cannon transferred his gaze to Armie. “You can let her go now.”
Grinning, Armie did just that, but then said, “You,” pointing at Denver, “keep your romantic pursuits to yourself.”
Cannon started to speak, but Armie pointed at him next.
“And you. Christ, man, your sister isn’t a baby.” Before Cannon could reply, he said, “And Denver isn’t Chester the Molester.”
“Thank you,” Denver said in a ridiculously snooty voice.
“No, but I know him. I know all of you.”
“So?” Denver asked.
“So I know how you think—and I know what you want.”
Yvette’s foot began to tap. “What? What does he want?”
Her tone didn’t bode well for anyone. “Let’s just say it isn’t romance.”
“So?”
“So women like to be romanced.”
Rolling her eyes, Yvette said, “Some do. Some don’t. Maybe Cherry would enjoy—” a red flush rose up her face, but she finished with “—whatever it is Denver has planned.”
“Jesus,” Denver said. “Does everyone think I’m planning perverted shit or what?”
“Nothing wrong with a little perversion,” Armie cut in. “But the main thing here is that Denver is a trustworthy guy. Hell, Cannon, I’d think you’d like having someone like him hanging around the place, given two girls live there all alone.”
“Women,” Yvette interjected into the tense room.
All eyes went to her.
Her foot stopped tapping and she said again, “They’re women, not girls.”
“Thank you, Gloria Steinem.” Armie skewered each of the guys with his scowl. “Is my work here done?”
“I wasn’t going to maim him,” Cannon told Yvette.
Denver snorted. “No, he definitely wasn’t.”
Their gazes clashed again.
“I’m not quite as radical as Gloria,” Yvette said a little loud and way too fast, and her efforts to distract became perfectly clear to one and all. “But they are women, not girls.”