“We’ll be waiting,” Eric said, his jaw tight. “Don’t take too long.”
“Of course not.” Don’t worry. I’ll only take long enough to defile your sister in the upstairs hallway. “We’ll be right back.”
As he followed Anna, his gaze level with her swinging hips, four sets of eyes bored into his back, singeing holes in his favorite suit jacket. Just in case they could see through his skull, he focused on the back of her head. Her blonde curls bounced with each step she took. For some reason, he found himself wondering if her hair was as soft as it seemed, and he almost wanted to find out.
When they reached the top of the steps, she held on to the banister. “Don’t pay attention to them. They still think I’m a little girl who needs protecting.”
She did need protecting. Men were assholes. “Aren’t you?”
“Oh God.” She turned on him, her frown showing him her disappointment even if she didn’t sound mad. “Not you, too?”
“I’m not going to be protecting you, if that’s what you’re asking.” He stopped on the second-to-last step. “But I think you’ll always be someone they need to protect. Kind of goes hand in hand with having four older brothers.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think they need to worry about you.” She motioned toward him, her cheeks going bright pink. “I mean…it’s you. You’re nothing to worry about.”
He swallowed a laugh at her words. “Are you insinuating I can’t get it up, Twinkletoes? Because I assure you, I’ve had no complaints in that area.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard,” she muttered.
“Wait. What?”
“I mean…” She gestured somewhere in the vicinity of his cock. “What I mean to say is, I’m sure everything is fully functioning down there. Not that I’ve asked around or anything. That would be super creepy. Like, really creepy. It’s not like I talked to your exes, or put up cameras—”
He held up a hand, choking back a loud laugh. “Maybe you should just stop now while you’re ahead. If you tell me you’ve been watching me on surveillance cameras, even I’ll get freaked out, and I do some sketchy shit to close a deal at work sometimes.”
“God, yes. I’ll just stop talking now. Like, forever.”
He burst into laughter, reaching out to squeeze her hand, which still rested on the banister. When his fingers brushed hers, a jolt of something he didn’t want to name shot through his veins. He jerked back in surprise, completely caught off guard. Since when did touching Anna make him…
Nope. I’m not putting a name to whatever the hell that weird jolt was.
Her eyes widened, and she stepped back and pressed her hand to her stomach. Shit. Had she felt it, too? “I…uh…Nina’s this way.” She gestured over her shoulder awkwardly. “Down the hallway.”
“Great.” Swallowing hard, he forced a smile. “How’s life as a speech therapist treating you?”
She came to life at the mere mention of her work, washing away the last of whatever the fuck had happened between them a minute ago. “It’s great. I love working with kids. It’s so rewarding to watch them progress as they learn the right way to make sounds. To see their eyes light up when they properly say a word they couldn’t figure out before. The look they get when they realize, finally, that they can get a sentence out without having to repeat themselves ten times.” She cut off, her cheeks going pink again. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”
“You’re not babbling,” he said, his gaze locked with hers. He couldn’t look away from her right now even if he wanted to. The joy on her face was mesmerizing. “It’s refreshing to see someone so happy with their career choices.”
“I am happy. What about you? Are you happy, Brett?”
She smoothed her hair, her hand looking steady and sure, even though she’d shaken him with her touch. She’d always been so certain what her life should be like. Always comfortable in her own skin. It had taken him leaving this town and making something of himself, as CEO at his dead parents’ company, to find that strength. But now that he had it, he was never letting go again. He was still alone in the world, sure, but this time it was by choice. That wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. “Of course I am.”
Halfway down the hallway, she grabbed his hand, making him stiffen because there was that damn feeling again. He fought the urge to yank free. This was Anna—just Anna. The same girl he’d grown up with, played house with, when she wrangled him into playing with her since her brothers wouldn’t. All it had taken was a pout from her, and he’d been putty in her hands.