Chapter One
“I don’t need the company, thanks. My boyfriend gets jealous.”
Despite his attempts to ignore the conversation in the booth to his right, Andrew heard every word loud and clear over the din in the steakhouse. He finished his Coke. It was nights like this he wished he still drank. Whoever was next to him had been trying to give some persistent asshole a polite brushoff for the last ten minutes. She’d said everything short of go the fuck away.
“If your boyfriend cared, he wouldn’t make you eat dinner alone. That’s why you’re enjoying my company instead.” That was the persistent asshole.
Andrew rolled his eyes.
His meal was over, and that meant so was the audio dinner show. It was obvious his sister was going to stand him up. As if she knew why he wanted to talk to her. He signed the bill, left a generous tip, and grabbed his credit card.
“He’s working. Some people do that.” Irritation crept into the woman’s sweet tone.
On his way out, Andrew would ask one of the waitresses to rescue her. He wanted to get back to his hotel. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; no one deserved to be harassed like that. He knew how this went down if he interfered, though. Regardless of who she was, the woman would take one look at the scars on his face, and cringe away. Skin grafts had taken care of most of the damage from the third-degree burns, but the ugliness lingered.
She might try to recover and play happy to see him. She might tell him to go to hell. Either way, the rescue would be ruined.
Besides, the only reason he was in town now, rather than waiting a few weeks until Christmas was closer, was to watch the woman he used to love marry someone else. He wasn’t up for another round of rejection. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his face. That was the only good thing about the weather—the look wasn’t out of place in this chill.
Instead of his feet moving toward the door, though, he found himself turning down the aisle and heading toward the booth that had been opposite his. He was going to regret this, but it didn’t stop him.
He pasted on a gentle smile as he drew within visual range of the woman, and his brain sputtered to a halt when he saw her face. If it weren’t for the blue hair that barely brushed her ears, she could be Mercy ten years ago. The first time they met. Which was ridiculous; Mercy was that much older now, same as he was. He recovered quickly, grateful his pace never faltered, and approached.
“Hey, sis. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He slid into the seat across from her and braced himself for the backlash. “Snow, traffic, blah, blah, bullshit—held me up. You know how it is.”
Instead of flinching or hesitating or turning away, she treated him to the brightest smile he’d ever seen. Her eyes matched the vibrant color of her hair, and everything about her expression was genuine. “Brady. I thought you weren’t going to make it. So glad things worked out.”
“Buddy, do you mind? We’re talking.” Arrogant Asshole.
She scowled. “He’s my brother.”
“So? You and I aren’t done.”
Andrew was sick of this. He stood, smile growing, and extended his hand. “So sorry to interrupt.” He kept his tone cool. “I should leave you two alone.”
“Thanks, man.” Arrogant Asshole looked surprised, but that didn’t deter him from shaking Andrew’s hand.
Andrew clapped him on the other shoulder, gripped tight and moved in close. The rapid movement pressed the guy into the dividers between the booths and pinned his arm between them.
Arrogant Asshole snarled and tried to wrench free. “What the fuck?”
“It works like this.” Andrew lowered his head, so his mouth was next to the guy’s ear, hoping that made the dude extra uncomfortable. Andrew’s voice was low and steady. “Leave the young lady alone. Tonight. Every night. Forget you ever met her.”
“Fucking psychopath.” Arrogant Asshole’s insult drew attention from surrounding booths.
Andrew pulled back, to look him in the eye, and tightened his grip enough to hurt. He grinned, showing teeth. “How’d you know? Wanna guess which body part I take first from the guys who don’t leave my baby sister alone?” His words were only meant for Arrogant Asshole’s ears.
The guy wrenched free of Andrew’s grip, stumbling in the process. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut again, before turning toward the door and all but breaking into a sprint. Once upon a time, a confrontation like this would have sent Andrew’s pulse and adrenaline through the roof. One of the biggest downsides to being in porn was there was at least one guy like that at every industry party. It was sad that assholeness was the norm.
Andrew braced himself to be told off and turned back to the woman with the crystal-blue eyes.
Her grin widened, and she nodded to the bench across from her. “Thank you. I didn’t know how to get rid of him.”
“No worries. Make sure when you leave, you ask one of the waitresses to walk you to your car.” He didn’t take a seat.
“You can join me. I don’t bite.”
He had so many pre-programmed responses to that, starting with that’s a shame and getting filthier from there, but none seemed appropriate with her. She radiated innocence. That was disconcerting by itself. She also had to be nearly a decade younger than his twenty-eight. If she were one of his girls, she’d headline the Barely Legal and Girl Next Door pages without hesitation.