“A quarter to never,” she shot back, not giving an inch. “I don’t pimp out my friends, and believe it or not, Alberto is a friend.”
Was it wrong that a little part of him—well, a big, thick, long part of him—wanted to be her friend, too? Yeah. Yeah it was.
Chapter Six
Everly meant every word of what she’d said. Loyalty wasn’t just a thing—it was the most important thing. You didn’t fuck over the people you cared about, and she wasn’t convinced that taking Tyler to lunch at Alberto’s wasn’t screwing over the man who’d helped her get her start in this business and had become a mentor and friend.
Tyler’s mouth tightened, and he let out a harsh breath as he shoved his long fingers through his thick black hair. “I understand about the importance of friendship.”
“Do you?” she asked. “I know about how you turned on Sawyer.”
Years of the silent treatment and even attempts to sabotage a business deal. Finding out that information had tipped the scales against him for her. Tyler Jacobson might be hot as hell with his dark hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders, and tight ass, but she wasn’t having it. How someone treated other people was more important than what would no doubt be some amazing, mind-melting orgasms.
The vein in his temple pulsed. “I had my reasons.”
She could become immortal, and she’d never understand how the male ego could be so big and so fragile at the same damn time. “He turned your fiancée away.”
Tyler nodded, his blue eyes cold without even a hint of emotion. “He did.”
His lack of reaction only sparked hers up, offending her on her friend’s brother’s behalf. She may have grown up on the wrong side of town, but she sure as hell knew the right way to treat people. Righteous indignation flowed through her, hot and demanding. “And you gave him the cold shoulder for years like a total asshole.”
He swallowed hard, his teeth clenched so tight the jaw muscle bulged, then let out a slow breath that forced all the feeling off his face. “I did.”
“Why would you ever do that if you”—she held up her hands and made air quotes with her fingers—“understand the importance of friendship so much?”
Tyler didn’t say anything. He just stared at her like no one had ever had the balls to ask him that before. Well, someone should have, because even if Tyler and Sawyer were friends again, they should have had some kind of come-to-Jesus conversation. Of course, these were two men. Anyone with a Y chromosome seemed to be at a distinct disadvantage when it came to talking through uncomfortable truths.
Finally, he started up the stairs again, sliding his hand across the small of her back and leading her toward the landing. She didn’t mean to fall into step beside him, but his touch had set off the kamikaze butterflies in her stomach. Once again, fighting felt a lot like foreplay, and her body liked it.
“This is a conversation that requires alcohol and not being in the middle of a stairwell,” he said, holding open the door leading from the stairwell to the second-floor hall. “Come over to my place, and I’ll tell you the whole thing. I’ll even make us some food.”
That stopped her feet halfway through the door. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Pasta,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll boil some noodle
s, throw on some sauce. Even I can’t mess that up.”
Of course, her mutinous stomach picked that moment to growl. With a knowing smile making him look more relaxed than he had all evening, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. Holding them up in the air, he jingled them. There was no missing the throwback to her taunting him in the parking garage.
“Unless you’d rather flip for it?” he asked.
She laughed despite knowing better. “Fine, but I haven’t agreed to take you to Alberto’s for lunch with him thinking we’re an item. And if the smoke alarm goes off, I’m out of here.”
“Yet,” he corrected. “You haven’t agreed yet.”
Good God. The cocky bastard thought he’d get her to agree. And heaven help her if she did.
They walked down the hall together to the door of his apartment. The building’s beautiful art deco style architecture had called out to her art-loving soul, demanding she look into its history. It had originally been planned as a high-end luxury boutique apartment building. The street-level floor originally planned as a lobby and gym among other things. Each floor of the three-story building had two large—especially by Harbor City standards—apartments separated by a wide hallway. For whatever reason, though, the project had fallen through before the renovations had been completed. The company that owned the building had gone through with the plan, except for the street level, which had been turned into a space perfect for her gallery. Too bad the landlord had recently hit her up with building maintenance and taxes that had her accountant calling for mercy. It was a typical triple net commercial lease, though she thought she’d be in business a bit longer before the nut came due. But that problem could wait for another day.
She expected Tyler’s apartment to be a replica of hers. As soon as he opened the door, though, she realized how wrong she’d been. While her apartment was dominated by a huge living space filled with color and walls begging to be decorated with thought-provoking art, his was centered around a massive gourmet kitchen divided from the living room with an island big enough to seat eight. Other than the slate gray of the granite countertops, almost everything else in the apartment was done in tasteful and completely boring taupes, creams, and whites. There weren’t any photos or art on the walls or the fireplace mantel. The place kind of looked like a professionally designed apartment for a luxury furniture store website. Of course, the photographer would have insisted on hiding the five boxes stacked one on top of the other near the sliding doors leading out to the balcony. She could think of only a single explanation for the boxes and the lack of a personal touch.
“Are you moving?” she asked as she did a full 360.
He snorted. “Don’t sound so hopeful.”
“I’ll take that as a no,” she said, doing her best to sound disappointed even though that wasn’t exactly how she’d describe the feeling zinging through her, because she wasn’t going to describe that feeling. Stubborn? Her? Never! “That’s some kitchen.”
“Yeah, it was exactly what I wanted.” He wandered into the kitchen and pulled out a high-back chair from the island. “Take a load off and watch me make magic.”