Christ on a cracker, he unnerves me in so many ways when he’s this close to me. My phone chimes with an incoming text on the counter behind him, and we both jump, startled by the sound, which shatters our accusatory silence. Becks twists and reaches for my phone, his expression shuttering when he glances down at the screen.

“Well, I guess I have my answer. It’s not that you can’t with me, but that you can with him,” he says with disbelief before handing me my phone and striding out of the kitchen.

As hard as it is to tear my eyes away from him, I’m at a loss as to what he’s assuming until I look down on my phone. Dante. His name lights up my screen as well as the text that follows it. I stare at it understanding why Becks just left, cursing and thanking Dante all at once for his inopportune timing.

Are you coming home tonight or staying at your parents? I miss you.

Dante’s words are innocent. At least I hope they are. Regardless, they’re enough to make me reconsider my instinctive reaction to chase after Becks and try to make things right.

“What the hell was that all about?” Rylee’s voice causes me to roll my eyes and toss my cell onto the counter without a second thought about the man who just upset the one I’m so focused on.

“You said he wasn’t coming!” I tell her, anger lacing my disbelief. I pick up my glass of wine and down the rest of it, glaring at her over the rim the whole time.

“He wasn’t.” She shrugs, a diminutive smile at the corners of her mouth as she walks up and sits on the barstool in front of me. “But he got done early, so he decided to stop over.”

I look out the patio doors to where he stands now beside Colton, beer in his hand, tension in his shoulders. And it’s so much easier to focus on him than to look at Rylee because I am so sick of being stared at and scrutinized today. I’m so fed up with it that I start trying to figure out how to extricate myself from this barbecue because the fun I was having fifteen minutes ago is gone now that I know I’ve hurt him.

“Don’t even think about leaving,” she warns, years of friendship allowing her to read my mind.

“Ry …” I push off the counter and pull the cork out of the partially empty bottle. I pour myself some more wine because I have a feeling I’m going to need it.

“Don’t Ry me,” she says, leaning back and locking eyes with me. I see patience there, but I also see a friend not willing to step back.” Not gonna lie here when I tell you it’s going to be awkward as hell since the last time you saw each other his dick was in you—”

I choke on my wine and start sputtering out incoherent words before just dropping my jaw open and staring at her. She struggles to keep her face serious, and I love her that much more for it.

“Well, it’s true!” She asserts. “It’s a Saturday afternoon barbecue, Had,” she says, trying to calm the situation and defuse my need to escape. “I’m not going to say a word. Have some drinks. Hide under the bushes over there. Talk to the rest of the guys. Do something because if you don’t he’s going to know he affects you … and, well, you never know”—she shrugs—“making a guy who’s interested a little bit jealous isn’t always a bad thing.”

“Who took my friend, and what did you do with her?” I ask her incredulously, knowing damn well the call from Dante might have already had that effect. I don’t think I want to push my luck any further.

Rylee glances outside and makes a humming noise of appreciation in the back of her throat. My eyes follow her sightline to see Becks reaching up to help Colton adjust the volleyball net higher over the pool. His hat falls back, and his board shorts keep slipping lower and lower on his stretched torso. Every damn ridge and etch of muscle is on display, causing every single one of mine to clench and then sing with desire.

“Damn. He’s got quite the V there when his shorts are that low,” she murmurs, her head angling to the side to match mine as we watch the show he’s unknowingly putting on.

“Infinity.” I don’t even realize I’ve said the word aloud until I see her glance my way in my peripheral vision, her brows furrowed.

“Infinity?”

I look back out toward Becks as he lifts his other arm, trying to get the tie of the net through a hole a few feet over his head. The sight of his shorts falling even lower makes my mouth water and my fingers itch to touch him in pure carnal lust, despite everything that’s happened.

I realize after a moment of admiration and daydreaming that I haven’t answered Ry’s question. “Yeah,” I say absently, pausing for a moment before I continue. “The V—his infinity zone—the place you could stare at on a man forever and die a happy woman.”

Rylee throws her head back and laughs, a low, rich sound that makes me smile. “Well, that’s a new one,” she says before taking a sip and looking back out toward our own private show again. “And ain’t it the truth!”

“Hey! You’re a married woman now. Don’t go admiring my Becks.” The possessive pronoun is out of my mouth before I even think it through. I hope it goes unnoticed, but the immediate cessation of her laughter and the turn of her head tells me she caught it.

Damn. Can’t a girl catch a break?

I keep my eyes focused on Becks. On him bending over and his mighty fine ass as he picks up his hat. Of the way he tilts the bottle to his lips and holds it there momentarily while Colton says something to him before he tips the bottle up higher. So many little things that make me want him, and all of them on a first-name basis with my libido.

“First of all, I might be married, but hell if a sane woman would turn her head away from the sight of that. Ironically, mine’s got the ink you usually go for and vice versa, but looking at Becks sure isn’t a hardship,” she says, and then falls silent as the laughter outside floats into the kitchen.

And for a second, I softly exhale the breath I’ve been holding over my claimed possession of Becks because she’s missed it.

“Oh, and, Had?” she says as she rises from her chair and starts to walk toward her company outside. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that little slip of the tongue.” She throws the comment over her shoulder and just keeps on walking without looking back.



Chapter 18



BECKETT

“So, uh, you brown-bagging it or what?”

Colton is standing to my right but I keep my head turned so I can watch Haddie in the lounge chair across the deck. In her bikini, she’s sexy as hell all the way down to that diamond glistening in her navel, which I never knew she had because she’s never worn it. And damn, it’s just ridiculously hot in so many ways.

“Brown-bagging it?”

He plops himself down across from me, the cushion making a noise from the force before he leans back and props his feet up on the table catty-corner to mine. He angles his chin up to where I was just watching Haddie. “Yeah, taking her out of the bag to get a taste of her when no one’s looking and then slipping her away before someone catches sight of you.”

“Seriously, dude?” I sputter, turning to stare at him. Like I should be surprised at anything that comes out of his mouth. “Did you really just say that?”

“Oh, get over yourself, Daniels. It’s cool. You and I both know you’ve been sampling that dessert. We’ve known each other way too fucking long for you to lie to me over a piece of ass.”

And as much as he’s right—on all counts—something in me prefers lifting my bottle of beer to my mouth to take a swallow instead of answering the question. My eyes veer back over to her as her laughter drifts across the patio. She’s partially reclined on the chaise, her body covered in what any man would consider a dick-hardening bikini—ties and scraps of fabric—that makes one wonder if there are any tan lines it’s hiding.

And the answer is most definitely no.

Damn. The reality that I know that for a fact tightens my sack before I realize that Colton’s fixated on me and not elsewhere like I thought.

“Well, being the picky fucker that you are, you sure as fuck raised the bar with her…. There’s not much to pick apart there.”

“Dude, just because I bitched that one time about Sandy.” I shake my head and roll my eyes behind my glasses.

“That one time? Are you listening to yourself? How about every time?” he chortles. “Her voice is too annoying. She’s too superficial. She was—”

“C’mon, you have to admit she was …” I mock shiver at the memory of her and her nasty hygiene habits.

“I have not a clue what you’re talking about, you picky bastard.” He’s enjoying this immensely, that much I can tell, so I just blow out a breath and wash down the crow he’s handing me.

“Well, I guess I should just follow in your footsteps then Mr. No-pussy-is-good-enough-to-commit-to-for-life.” I repeat the words he used to use as a motto for years to him with a lift of my eyebrows and sarcasm rich in my voice.

He belts out a laugh. “You got me, dude. I’ve learned the error of my ways because, damn, Rylee’s is most definitely enough for a lifetime.” He shakes his head with a laugh as he tips the beer to his lips and takes a long swallow. “Speaking of …” He shifts his eyes to Haddie and then back to me. “She good?”

“How’s married life?” I ask the question, knowing he’s not going to fall for it but needing to attempt changing the topic nonetheless. Besides, how Haddie is in the sack is none of his goddamn business. A litany of curses flies through my head as I realize that my not wanting to talk about her skills is a sign in and of itself of how bad I have it for her. Colton and I have talked about everyone and everything we’ve done with them before.