3
Spence
“Hey, Abby.” Jess waddles further into the flower shop toward a tiny red-haired florist and the man she stands beside.
Our eyes meet, his and mine, as he tilts his head and looks me over with a suspicious gaze. My senses go on full alert when his hand slowly moves to his right hip. He’s broad chested, square jawed, six-four, and two-ten. And though he doesn’t pull a piece, he has one. Which is interesting…
But more than that, he looks familiar, and anyone that is familiar to me is more than likely bad news.
I’ve met a lot of people in my time, but apart from Jessie and her sister, I’m not sure any of them could be consideredgood. I’ve been trained all my life to profile, so I’ve already tucked away this guy’s olive complexion, his light green eyes, and what I’m certain is a concealed handgun on his hip. He wears a light coat over a black shirt, and blue jeans that are ironed out well enough they must’ve come off the rack just this morning.
His eyes are bright, his complexion clear, and he has a bulge on his left ankle that indicates a blade.
But his eyes… they fuckin’ stare.
I don’t step out of his way when he tries to move through the doorway. When he sees me stepintohis path, his head snaps back with surprise.
“You look familiar,” I say. I’m tempted to call him ‘soldier,’ though he looks a little too…cleanfor that. He’s a little too preppy to be military. “Do I know you?”
Preppy moves back and folds his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge, and his jaw ticks and niggles something at the back of my brain.
“Can’t say I know your face, Hulk.” He pastes on a fake grin. “And it’s not a forgettable face. Did it suck when you lost that fight to a bear?”
When I say nothing, he chuckles and lifts his chin. “Step aside, please.”
I narrow my eyes and cast a glance toward Jess as she waits beside the watchful florist. “You good?”
Jess tilts her head when she feels the tension in the room. What was an excited smile on the drive over here while she harped on about how Imusthelp her since everyone else is busy, has now turned to suspicion and a twitching hand, like she plans to step between us and stake her claim.
I’m not her man, but I’m still hers all the same.
“What’s going on?” She rubs the side of her swollen belly, steps around the guy, and stops so her arm rests against mine. Nine months pregnant, practically married to someone else, half my size, and she’s still willing to go to war for me. All because her man considers me a brother. “Do we have a problem, Spencer?”
“Spencer?” The dude watches me. It’s almost as though he’s trying to figure me out too. “I don’t know a Spencer. What’s your first name?”
“Spencer is my first name.”
His eyes flicker over my face and down to my hand. “Surname, then?”
“That’s none of our business.” The florist finally unfreezes and rushes forward to push the guy around us. “Nixon was on his way out.”
I run the name Nixon through my brain, but still, nothing pops.
I turn and pull Jessie behind me when the chick swings the door open. Long strawberry blonde hair sways from a half up, half down ‘do. She doesn’t look old enough to have graduated high school yet, let alone push large men around, but she stares the dude off and shuts him down when he whisper-growls ‘Call me’ and ‘Dinner tonight!’
Slamming the door, she turns back to us with a big grin and pats her hands together. “Whew. Guys are weird. Jessie! Come on in. I have something exciting to show you.”
“Who was that guy?” Jess grabs the woman’s narrowwrist and pulls her to a stop when she tries to rush away. “Is everything okay with that?”
“That?” Abby points toward the door and laughs. My eyes are stuck on the six trillion freckles that mark her pale skin. My gaze moves to the cute headband that keeps her hair off her face, and the white shirt she has buttoned all the way up to her damn chin. There’s no way in hell this chick would ever don a pair of Daisy Dukes, and that’s a filthy shame, because I’d pay good money to see it. “That was just Nixon, and he’s a stubborn mule. He wouldn’t leave until I agreed to dinner.”
“But…” Jessie steps closer to the woman. “Do youwantto go to dinner with him? I mean, don’t get me wrong, sometimes bossy men are adorable. Mine might be the bossiest of them all, and I secretly love him for it, but sometimes it’s not cute. Sometimes it’s called abuse. If you don’t want to go to dinner with that man, I’ll deliver the bad news to him myself. I’ll take Spence, and maybe Jay and Kane too, and we’ll remind him what would happen if he comes back in here again without a written invitation.”
Abby’s smile dims, then her eyes pop wide when she realizes what Jess is saying. “Oh my gosh, no! You have completely the wrong idea!” She throws her head back a little and laughs. “Nixon isn’t a problem for me! He’s not like…” Her eyes flicker to me. “He’s not an abusive guy or anything.”
“Said every girl with an abusive boyfriend,” I rumble.
“No. Seriously.” Abby pauses when vibration echoes from her desk. She looks over her shoulder, then back to us and tries to pretend her controlling man isn’t checking in. “I’m not… I don’t need… No.”