Family breakfast at the McGregor homestead was as noisy and vibrant as dinner had been. Everybody was loud and boisterous and talking over one another in an attempt to be heard. Sam enjoyed it because it meant that he got overlooked in the confusion. Which left him to watch Lia. She was quieter than the rest, speaking only when she had an opinion to offer.
Once again she barely acknowledged his existence, and it made him want to say or do something outrageous to catch her attention. He didn’t, though; instead he minded his manners like a champ and resisted the impulse to get a rise out of her. Still, it grated that she pretended he wasn’t even there, but he knew it was probably another one of her ridiculous rules.
Because he was so intent on watching her, he noticed the flare of panic and discomfort in her eyes before Daisy’s words registered. It made him sit up and pay attention to the conversation.
“Who told you that?” Lia was asking Daisy, and the younger woman shrugged amiably.
“Daff. She said you wanted to move into my house. You’ll want to get rid of Daff’s crap first, though—apparently she doesn’t know that moving out means you have to take all your stuff to your new place.”
“Come on, Daisy, Spencer asked me to move in on Monday, I packed a bag that same night and he hasn’t been rid of me since. I didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind again,” Daff protested, and Daisy’s eyebrows flew up. “I’ll get around to the rest of it soon.”
“You gave notice last month,” Daisy said. “I thought you moved out weeks ago.”
“Spencer wouldn’t let me move in,” Daff said, and all eyes shifted to Spencer, who shrugged uncomfortably.
“I thought we’d be setting a bad example for Charlie,” he muttered, and Charlie laughed.
“Please, like I don’t know what sex is.”
“Let’s pretend you don’t know what it is and leave it at that,” Mason said with a glower.
“Hmm. Until you’re at least thirty-eight,” Spencer agreed, and Charlie rolled her eyes at them.
“You’re moving out, Lia?” Millicent McGregor asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic that had interested Brand in the first place.
“I thought it was a good idea,” Lia said uncomfortably.
“Of course, I understand your desire to live your life without feeling like your parents are constantly monitoring your every move. Especially now that you have a gentleman friend that you’re calling on, but we’re going to miss you,” her mother said, and Sam suddenly understood where Lia got her sometimes quaint turns of phrase. Millicent had a delightfully old-fashioned way of wording things. The older woman’s actual meaning didn’t register until he saw Lia’s fiery blush.
“Gentleman friend?” Daisy asked with wide eyes, her voice escalating on each syllable. “Lia! Have you been keeping secrets from me? Is it Gregory? Have things been going well with him?”
“You know about that douche?” Daff asked incredulously.
“Unlike some people at this table—Daff—Daisy actually listens when I speak,” Lia said self-consciously, still battling a fiery blush.
“Why is he a douche?” Daisy asked. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Lia said softly.
“Let’s just say we call him Gropey Gregory around these parts now,” Daff said with a frown. Lia looked so perfectly miserable that Sam had to curb the impulse to tell Daff to shut the fuck up about that prick Gregory. This was clearly not a topic Lia felt comfortable discussing right now.
“What did he do?” Mason asked dangerously, and Spencer sat up and paid attention, too, both men clearly protective of all the McGregor women.
“He won’t be bothering her again,” Sam felt compelled to say. It wasn’t their place to feel protective over Lia, especially not since the problem had pretty much been resolved already.
The table went silent as all eyes flew to him. Wow, uncomfortable. Sam shifted slightly and cleared his throat. Not sure what to say beneath the weight of expectation in all those gazes. The only one not looking at him—still—was Lia. And that was driving him crazy.
“Explain,” Mason demanded curtly, and Sam huffed an impatient breath.
“I had a firm word with him.” Mason grinned at the explanation—Sam’s “firm word” was good enough for him.
“But I don’t understand,” Mrs. McGregor said blankly. “If you and this Gregory aren’t getting serious, then where did you go last night?”
Lia could feel her face flame, and she wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She didn’t want to lie to her family, especially not while they were all staring at her in avid interest and concern.
“I . . . uh . . . I . . .”
“I’m afraid I’m to blame for that, ma’am,” Brand said suddenly, and Lia’s eyes flew to his apologetic face in horror. “I was having some difficulty last night and couldn’t find my pain medication. I messaged Lia and asked if she knew where I’d put them. Turns out, she had them in her handbag. She was kind enough to bring them to me. I know it was late and I wouldn’t have asked her to come if I weren’t in pretty extreme discomfort.”
Her mother looked mollified by his explanation, but everybody else, even Charlie, was glancing between Lia and Sam with varying degrees of skepticism and outright disbelief on their faces.
“Why would you have his medication in the first place?” Daisy asked in confusion, and Lia patted nervously at her hair before replying.
“Uh. I’ve been helping him out with some of his household chores and stuff. Just until his arm is out of the cast.”
“I see,” Daisy said, even though she still looked completely confused. “I just thought Daff was going to lend a hand, because she’s closer.”
“Daff got busy helping Spencer with the business, and since I’m often at loose ends, I thought I’d lend a hand.”
“What do you mean, ‘often at loose ends’?” Sam surprised her by asking disbelievingly. “You’re the busiest person I know. You’re helping every single charity organization in town. I’m shocked you ever have a free moment to yourself.”
“Right?” Daff agreed. “I told her they take advantage of her good nature. They just keep piling on the tasks and Lia seems completely incapable of saying no.”
“I noticed that about her,” Brand said with a nod, and Lia frowned. Daff and Brand always seemed to find common ground over her shortcomings, which was getting a bit tedious.
“I told her she should charge them for her services,” Daff said, and Brand snorted.
“I’m quite capable of saying no,” Lia said levelly. “I just reserve it for people who annoy me, and right now that’s a pretty short list. When did you say you needed me to pick Charlie up from soccer practice again, Daff? I’m afraid something urgent has just come up on that day and I won’t be able to make it.”
“You don’t even remember what day it is,” Daff spluttered.
“I’m busy on all the days,” she said breezily. When Sam laughed, she pinned him with a glare. “Oh, and maybe you can fix your own breakfast tomorrow, Brand. I’m afraid I’ll be much too busy updating my Facebook settings at that time.” She shifted her gaze back to Daff before continuing, “I don’t only spend my time helping out charity organizations. Remember that next time you ask me to do you a ‘quick favor.’”
She put her newfound glower to good use and deliberately dismissed them by turning to Daisy, who was grinning widely.
“So would you be okay with me renting your house?”
“Of course I’m fine with it,” Daisy said warmly. “Happy it’s staying in the family. So much better than renting to strangers.”
“Thanks, Deedee,” she said.
Sam watched as Lia pointedly continued to ignore both Daff and him. Her setdown of them had been both gentle and effective, and Sam would have high-fived her for the eloquent little barb if he hadn’t been one of the recipients of said slight. Still, he couldn’t help silently cheering her spirited response.
He’d let her stew for now. Later, he’d take great pleasure in reminding her of the perks involved in preparing his breakfast.
“When’s the cast coming off, Brand?” Mason asked, and Sam shrugged.
“I’m going to Knysna next week to have this one removed and the arm X-rayed. They’ll probably recast it, but they’ll be able to tell me how much longer I’ll be stuck wearing this thing.”
“Yeah, you must be missing the water, hey?” Mason said sympathetically, before elaborating for the rest of the room. “I swear to God, Brand’s part fish. Swimming, scuba diving, surfing, parasailing, paddleboarding, kayaking—anything on or in water, Brand has done it. Guy goes stir-crazy if he can’t swim a million laps a day.”
“How did you manage in Afghanistan?” Daisy asked curiously, and Sam felt his skin grow tight at the memory.
“Badly. I hated every second of it. I’m not cut out for all that sand. I would have preferred to be deployed to Bali, really. Or Bimini. Maybe the Seychelles.”
His response got a laugh from everybody except Lia, who still looked a bit miffed at him. He sent her a cheeky little wink, and her eyes widened in horror. She immediately glanced around guiltily to see if anyone else had noticed. Nobody had, of course, Sam was a little more careful than that.
Talk turned to more general topics after that, and breakfast ended soon after.
“Brand, you want to join Spencer and me later?” Mason asked. “We’re heading out to the local watering hole for a catch-up and some drinks.”
Sam cast a quick glance at Lia, gauging her reaction. She kept her face carefully averted and was talking to Charlie about something, but he knew she was listening to every word.
“I think I’ll leave you two to do a bit of brotherly bonding,” he said. “I have plans to take my injured, pain-riddled ass to bed for a couple of hours.” Preferably not alone.
“If you decide to join us, text me. We’ll be at Ralphie’s after seven tonight.”
“Thanks,” Sam said with an appreciative grin.
Still mad at me, sunshine? The text from Brand came while Lia, her sisters, her mother, and Charlie were discussing ideas for Daff and Spencer’s wedding. The couple hadn’t settled on a date yet, they just knew they wanted a spring wedding. Possibly in October. Daff wanted something low-key, without fuss or frills, which was pretty much in keeping with her personality. Considering that just six months ago she’d been adamant about never getting married, it was a pretty big step for her to even consider a wedding ceremony, so everybody was playing it cool, even though Lia knew her mother was dying for more fanfare.
Lia, happy for a distraction from all this wedding talk, stared down at her phone for a moment before quickly typing a reply.
Maybe. Not sure. She ignored the animated conversation and feminine laughter swirling around her as she waited for the response.
Gutted. Does this mean I don’t get to play with your ( . Y . ) and (|) tonight? Lia choked back a laugh at the text and tried very hard not to blush.
Maybe. Not sure, she replied.
God, you’re brutal. Throw me a bone, sunshine. Just one little bone for my not so little boner. She clamped her lips between her teeth to prevent the smile but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. He was completely incorrigible.
I’ll see you at seven.
Can’t wait.
“Lia, you’re the color of a ripe tomato. What’s going on?” Daisy asked curiously, and Lia practically jumped out of her skin. Unbelievably, she had completely forgotten the other women were there. She quickly lowered her phone, screen down, to her lap and smiled at Daisy while waving her free hand in front of her flushed face.
“It’s just a little hot in here, that’s all,” she said, and they all gaped at her.
“If you’re menopausal, maybe,” Daff said and glanced at her mother. “No offense, Mom.”
Their mother snorted.
“If you think I’m still menopausal, you’re deluded, my girl. I’m fifty-eight. I went through menopause four years ago.”
“I wasn’t sure if it was still a sensitive subject or not,” Daff said, and the older woman laughed.
“It was never a sensitive subject. Now, focus on the subject at hand, please. I’m definitely interested in knowing why your sister looks like someone who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.”
“I’m just hot, that’s all,” Lia protested, while her cheeks brightened even more.
“Why are you hiding your phone?” Charlie asked gleefully. Lia sent her a mock wounded look, which the girl completely ignored.
“Why are you hiding your phone?” Daff repeated.
“I’m not. I’m thirsty,” she prevaricated desperately, pushing herself up from the table and getting a bottle of juice from the refrigerator. “Anybody else want a drink?”
“Oh my God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you full-on lie before,” Daff gasped, her eyes alive with unholy pleasure. “You’re terrible at it. Never do it again.”
“Do you have a man friend you’re not telling us about?” Daisy asked astutely.
“I’d rather not discuss this right now,” Lia said, pouring her orange juice into a glass and taking a thirsty gulp. The pulp made her cough, and she’d never been so grateful for that uncomfortable tickle in the back of her throat. Sometimes having her family so involved in her life could be trying, but she knew they only wanted her happiness after her failed engagement. She also knew none of them would approve of her involvement with Brand, because they knew as well as she did that it would never be anything more than it currently was. And they would worry she was setting herself up for more pain.
They would all be filled with well-meaning advice and concern, but they wouldn’t be telling her anything she didn’t already know. Lia would rather they never knew about what was going on between her and Brand.
“Lia—” Daff began, but Lia cut her off with a look. For once, Daff paid attention to the clear warning in Lia’s eyes, and her mouth snapped shut.
“I’m not prepared to discuss this. Can we please focus on the wedding?” Daisy and Daff exchanged troubled looks, while Charlie just stared at Lia like she’d never seen her before. Her mother was staring, too, but her eyes were thoughtful, which made Lia feel incredibly uncomfortable.
Daisy, bless her tactful soul, quickly adjusted the subject back to engagement parties and weddings, and Lia was left alone. But she knew this wouldn’t be the end of the matter. Her sisters were too persistent and stubborn for that.
When she went around to the cabin just before seven that evening, it was to find the door unlocked and Brand nowhere in sight. She stood uncertainly in the living room for a moment before a god-awful racket alerted her to the fact that he was upstairs in the loft. She followed the unidentifiable noise until she found him lying flat on his back on a workout mat, with his hands folded over his flat, taut stomach and his eyes closed. He was wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. His entire body gleamed with sweat, and Lia bit back a moan at the sight of all that honed, masculine strength. His injuries may have weakened him, but he was still a beautiful specimen of masculinity.
She finally identified the source of the racket as singing. Brand’s singing, to be precise. He was wearing earbuds, which were attached to a tiny iPod that he had strapped around his left bicep, and he was singing along to . . . it kind of sounded like Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer.” Sam Brand had many talents, but singing was definitely not one of them. The man had a singing voice that would make dogs howl and small animals flee in terror. It was actually kind of cute how singularly terrible his voice was, especially since he was singing along with such gusto.
Some sixth sense must have alerted him to her presence, because his eyes shot open abruptly and he stopped his caterwauling immediately upon spotting her. His face lit up with a huge welcoming grin and he leapt—well, okay, semileapt, and winced while he was doing it—to his feet.
“Sunshine,” he greeted warmly, engulfing her in his arms and planting a smacking kiss on her lips. She laughingly pushed him off.
“You’re sweaty and you smell,” she complained.
“You don’t like my manly musk?” He sounded injured, but the twinkle in his eyes belied his tone of voice.
“Go take a shower.”
“Only if you join me,” he husked, grabbing a handful of her butt and lifting her to his straining crotch. She laughed helplessly.
“Brand, there’ll be no hanky-panky in the shower while you’re wearing that cast. You’ll get it wet for sure.”
“I don’t care, as long as I get you wet in the process.”
“You’re absolutely irredeemable,” she said with a wry shake of her head. “Go get cleaned up. Have you eaten yet?”
“Not since breakfast.”
“You shouldn’t skip meals,” she fussed. “And why are you so sweaty anyway? What have you been doing?”
“Working out. I need to rebuild my strength in order to keep up with you.”
“Do you think it’s wise to go back to your exercise regimen so soon?”
“It’s that or go fucking crazy. I needed to blow off some steam. I didn’t do anything too strenuous, just some stretches and core exercises. And it nearly kicked my arse, so I’m happy I got to it. Just shows how out of shape I’ve gotten.”
“I just don’t think it’s wise.”
“I have to get to it eventually. I’m not used to sitting around on my butt doing nothing all day.”
“Maybe you should clear it with your doctor first,” Lia suggested.
“It’s cute that you’re worried about me, sunshine. I didn’t think you cared.” They both went awkwardly silent after that cavalier statement, and Lia cleared her throat while trying to think of the best response.
“Of course I care, I would hate to see you reinjure yourself and add to my workload,” she teased, and he winced theatrically.
“Ouch,” he cried, clutching a hand to his chest. “You cut me, sunshine. You cut me deeper than any knife-wielding dickbag ever could.”
Lia giggled, the sound ending on an embarrassing snort.
“You’re such a drama queen. Go shower while I sort out your dinner.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to join me?”
“Quite.” He grinned at the concise answer before turning from her and deliberately pushing his gym shorts down past his hips and then over his tight butt. Lia couldn’t take her eyes off that firm behind as he stepped out of the shorts and cast a glance over his shoulder.
“Pity, look at what you’re missing out on.” He turned so that his body was in profile to hers, showing off the thick, impressive erection that curved up toward his belly button. He reached down and gave it a couple of long, languorous strokes before meeting her eyes and giving her a wicked smile.
“I’ll save it for you,” he promised, and Lia, her eyes glued to the movement of his hand, gulped and nodded.
“You do that,” she squeaked, sounding a bit like Minnie Mouse. He chuckled knowingly before turning away and strolling unhurriedly into the bathroom. Only after he’d shut the door behind him and Lia exhaled on a shaky gasp did she realize that she’d been holding her breath.
Wow, just wow. How was he so good at turning her on with so little effort? It was almost embarrassing. She shook herself, ignoring her beaded nipples and shaking legs, and made her way downstairs to make his dinner.
Brand insisted she join him in eating the delicious spaghetti bolognese she’d whipped up. Despite having prepared his meals before, this was the first time Lia actually found herself eating one of those meals with him, and it felt way too cozy and domesticated for comfort. Especially when he started chatting about Daff and Spencer’s engagement and Mason and Daisy’s unexpected visit. The small talk went against her list of rules, and she was reticent in her responses. She could tell that her unresponsiveness was beginning to frustrate Sam, but she didn’t really know how to fix the situation.
Not much of a drinker, she took a tiny sip of red wine to fortify herself and another undignified slurp of pasta. Lady and the Tramp had it so wrong—this was the least romantic meal on the face of the planet. Then again, she wasn’t exactly striving for romance here, so it was best to get those kinds of thoughts out of her head right now.
“Tell me about the guidelines,” Brand unexpectedly requested, and she blinked, a little surprised.
“What do you mean?” she hedged, and his icy eyes snapped impatiently.
“You know what I mean, Lia.” He so rarely used her name that it took her aback to hear it emerge from his mouth. “These so-called rules for a successful fling that you seem to be adhering to so religiously.”
“You should thank me for sticking to the rules. Things can get messy very quickly without rules, Brand.”
“You don’t fucking have to tell me that, sunshine. I’ve been following rules most of my life. I’d just like to know what they are so that I know when I’m not overstepping. Attempting to have a decent conversation is clearly making you uncomfortable, which means that I’m probably breaching one of your sacred rules, so how about letting me know what the fuck they are?”
“They’re pretty basic,” she said. “The usual stuff. Like—um—no giving or receiving gifts. I mean, that’s an obvious one, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” He didn’t sound convinced, but she ignored him and continued hesitantly.
“And not leaving stuff behind. Like clothing and things. It would feel too intimate. And no sleeping over. That’s a big no-no. I did have no introductions to the family down as well, but that horse has pretty much bolted from the barn.”
“Why wouldn’t you want me to meet your family?” He seemed offended. “I’m a likable guy.”
“Of course you are. But introducing your fling to your parents is a stupid thing to do—they’d have expectations. But I wasn’t the one who introduced you. You met them in your capacity as Mason and Daisy’s friend, so that’s a bullet dodged, I suppose. And naturally, you wouldn’t introduce me to your family and friends.”
“Naturally.” Again, he sounded offended. Or maybe defensive. She wasn’t sure which. His reaction just seemed . . . off. And she couldn’t pinpoint why. She’d expected his agreement, even approval, on these stipulations. But she couldn’t get an accurate read on his mood at all.
“Also, it’s good to remind yourself, when you go into something like this, that there’s an expiration date. It’s going to end. So better to maintain an emotional and intellectual distance. I like you, but I don’t want to find myself liking you more than I already do.”
“And that’s why you won’t allow yourself to have a conversation with me? In case, God forbid, you find yourself liking me more?”
Or loving you. She kept the words unspoken and stared at him mutely, allowing him to draw his own conclusions.
“It would complicate things if we became friends.”
“Well, I thought we were friends and I fucking like you, Lia. Sue me. I wouldn’t be attracted to you if I didn’t like you!”
“You barely knew me the first time we did it, Brand,” she reminded him, and his face darkened.
“That doesn’t count,” he said, and she tilted her head as she tried to figure him out.
“Why not?”
“It just doesn’t. I like you now. I consider you a friend. Sorry for fucking up your rules!”
Sam didn’t know why he was so pissed off. He just was. She wouldn’t talk to him because she didn’t want to be his friend? What in the actual fuck? He was outrageously offended by that, and he had no clue why. So what if he’d never been friends with any of his past lovers? They’d all just served an obvious purpose. He fucked them a few times and then he moved on. No friendship required. Just an understanding that it was an extremely finite, mutually pleasurable arrangement. Still, sometimes things tended to get messy, and on the surface Lia’s rules made sense. In fact, he would have been thrilled if some of his former partners had adopted the same mind-set.
But inexplicably, all Sam wanted to do was find a hard copy of her fucking rules and tear them the hell up, right in front of her. Then burn the pieces and piss on them to put out the fire.
“Any other rules I need to be cognizant of?” he asked tightly, and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth before nodding.
“No sleeping over, as you know. And no postcoital cuddling.”
Postcoital? How fucking clinical that sounded. Well, that certainly explained why she dashed out of his arms every time they finished.
Sam wasn’t a cuddler, he didn’t give a fuck about cuddling . . . but what if he wanted to hold her close for easy access in case he got horny again? She obviously hadn’t considered that, which was incredibly selfish of her. And what if he fell asleep for a brief moment while he was holding her? What if she did? Sex was a natural soporific; these considerations were well within the realm of possibility.
“You can’t like me,” she insisted. “Not really. You don’t even know me.”
“Sure I do, you’re my Miss Priss.” Sam didn’t know where the possessive pronoun came from, but it made him wince because she wasn’t his anything. He’d never considered any woman his.
Ever.
And he wasn’t about to start now.
He was starting to gain a new appreciation for these rules of hers. If it meant keeping things in perspective, he was all for it. Using a possessive pronoun in relation to a woman was dangerous. He needed to rein that shit in. Fast.
But seriously, the embargo on talking would have to go.
“I’m all for these rules of yours, they make sense, but you can’t expect us not to talk. That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t see the point of banning casual conversation. I’m an awesome guy, I’ll give you that,” he said, knowing his lack of modesty would get a smile out of her. She fought against it, but her lips quirked at the arrogant proclamation. “And many women in your position have displayed appalling lack of judgment and poor taste by falling in love with me. But you’re more intelligent than most of them, and the mere act of talking is not going to make you fall in love with me. Quite the opposite, probably. And trust me, I’ve spoken to many, many women and I haven’t fallen in love with a single one of them. And I’m not about to start now.”
“Don’t worry, Brand, there’s no danger of me falling in love with you, either, that’s not what concerns me . . . it’s the intimacy. It would feel too much like a relationship. And it can become confusing. I’d like things to remain clear-cut and uncomplicated between us.”
“Want to keep me firmly in the fuck buddy category, do you? I can respect that. But even though I’m only a booty call, so to speak, you still have to spend some time with me outside of bed. And I’ll be damned if I’ll sit in silence when we’re in the car, or sharing a meal, or with your family.”
She was quiet as she mulled over his words, a cute little furrow coming and going between her brows.
“What about keeping things friendly but casual?” Sam suggested.
“No personal conversations?”
“What constitutes a personal conversation?” he asked. She stared down at her half-eaten meal and prodded the remaining pasta with her fork. Absently playing with her food while she considered his question.
“Questions about previous relationships, maybe?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Statement?” The questioning lilt at the end of the word made him grin.
“Okay, what else?”
“I don’t know. If it feels inappropriate, I’ll let you know that it’s out of bounds.”
“Seems fair.” He watched her push her food around her plate for a while longer. “You going to finish that?”
“I think I’m done,” she said, meeting his eyes without hesitation.
“Yeah?” he breathed, his eyes dropping to her mouth, and he dragged his chair closer to hers. “Well, I’m just getting started.”
It was the last thing either of them said for a very long while.
Sam awoke when he felt Lia carefully extricating herself from his arms and climbing out of bed. He frowned and opened his eyes to watch her fumble around in the dimly lit room for her clothes. Once again she made her way to the bathroom to dress, and he pushed himself up to glare at the frosted glass pocket door that led to the en suite.
Despite three intense—and extremely satisfying—sessions since dinner, he didn’t want her to leave. He had an insatiable appetite for Lia, and he would rather she stayed close while he worked it out of his system. He knew her hunger for him was equal to his own, and he didn’t understand why she limited their portions in this way. Didn’t she recognize that in doing so, she would only lengthen the duration of their fling?
She exited the bathroom, fully dressed, and stopped abruptly when she saw that he was awake.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Stay.”
“No. I can’t. It’s close to midnight. I don’t want my family to know about this. And if I’m here till all hours of the night, they’ll figure it out.”
“It’s none of their business. You can fuck whomever the hell you want.”
“They’ll be concerned.”
“Would they think I’m some rapey monster and you’re my innocent victim?”
“No, of course not. That’s not why they’d be concerned.”
“Why then?”
She hesitated, and Sam knew he was venturing into forbidden territory.
“Because of Clayton,” she finally admitted, shocking him by actually replying. “Because of how I was after the engagement ended. They’ll worry that when this ends, I’ll react in the same way.”
“How were you after the engagement ended?” he asked, and she smiled. The expression was both sweet and sad.
“That’s out of bounds,” she said, the words quiet, and Sam bit back his instinctive profane response.
“Of course it is,” he responded, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He could tell his reaction confused her—truthfully, it confused him, too. But he hated not knowing something so integral about her. Even though he knew he shouldn’t want to know. He should like not knowing.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, and he nodded grimly. Then he watched as she turned to leave, even while everything in him wanted to snatch her back and keep her with him.
“Lia?” he called, just as she reached the landing. She stopped and looked back at him. “Text me when you get home.”
She nodded and then she was gone.
“Psst!” Lia jumped in fright at the urgent hissing sound coming from her right. She’d just exited the cabin and the surrounding woods were dark aside from the porch light and the few lights coming from Spencer’s house.
A little freaked out, Lia contemplated dashing back inside or making a run for her car, which was parked just a few yards away. Clearly the cabin was the sensible choice, and she turned to flee back inside when the hiss came again. This time accompanied by words.
“Psst! Lia!”
“Crumbs,” she muttered beneath her breath when she recognized Daff’s voice. She should probably have known that her oldest sister would eventually figure out what was going on. Especially since Lia had stupidly made no real effort to hide her car from view. She turned in resignation, and her eyes widened when Daff emerged from between two of the cherry trees that separated Spencer’s property from Mason’s.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Daff asked, her voice still pitched low, and Lia’s eyebrows flew to her hairline.
“Me? It’s the middle of the night. Have you been standing outside in the cold all this time waiting for me to come out? And what are you wearing?”
“Don’t deflect,” Daff said, folding her arms over her chest. Her plaid-covered chest. She seemed to be wearing a man’s pajama top. And fluffy rabbit slippers. She looked so unlike herself that Lia couldn’t stop staring at her in bemusement. “I knew something was up when Brand spun that bullshit story about his pain meds. How can you be sleeping with him? He’s bad news, Lia. He’s a player!” She spat out the last word as if it were the vilest insult she could come up with, and Lia laughed, which—if Daff’s shocked expression was anything to go by—completely threw her sister.
“I know that,” she said, holding her hands up in a placating manner. “Everybody knows that, which is why he’s perfect.”
“I don’t get it,” Daff admitted, and Lia snorted.
“I don’t want to have a relationship with him, I just want to have some stress-free fun.” Daff gaped at her like she had grown an extra head, and Lia sighed. “I’ve always been so good. I just wanted to try something different. This thing with Brand is temporary, and there’s no danger of me mistaking it for anything else. He can’t hurt me because I already know what to expect from him. It’ll end, he’ll leave, we’ll both move on.”
“What if you fall in love?”
“With Sam Brand?” Lia forced a hearty laugh that sounded genuine enough to fool her sister. Truth was, she hadn’t really expected to like Brand this much. He was fun, witty, arrogant, supremely self-confident, and genuinely likable. She needed to tread carefully, and despite what she’d told Brand earlier about there being no danger of her falling in love with him, she had to guard her heart more closely than she’d expected to.
“It’s all happened so fast, Lia. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Not that fast,” Lia admitted with a blush. “We kind of, sort of . . .”
“What? Spit it out.”
“At the wedding, we . . .”
“No! Oh my God! Are you serious? Are you telling me you and Brand had sex at our sister’s wedding?”
“And at the hen party.” Lia wasn’t sure why she was admitting this, but since Daff knew this much, she might as well know the rest. She was gaping at Lia like she didn’t know her at all, and some part of Lia enjoyed shocking her jaded older sister. It made her feel daring and interesting and unpredictable.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” Brand yanked open his front door and glared at them. His hair was sexily mussed, his chest was bare, and he was wearing a pair of boxer briefs. Lia immediately salivated at the sight of all that beautifully tanned nakedness and forced herself to focus on Daff, who was giving Brand her version of a death stare.
“You dick! I told you to stay away from my sister, didn’t I?” she seethed, and Brand’s chest heaved in exasperation.
“You did.” He nodded.
“You did?” Lia gasped at the same time.
“I did. When we first met him and he wouldn’t stop staring at you,” Daff confirmed, then focused on Brand again. “But you just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?”
“To be fair,” Brand said, his voice measured, “neither could she.”
Lia snort laughed, then clapped a hand over her mouth. She should probably be offended or shocked by the comment, but little Brand said shocked her anymore. He just entertained her. Daff, however, looked totally stunned and for once seemed lost for words.
“Why are you spying on us?” Brand demanded to know.
“Please, I have better things to do with my time. I couldn’t sleep and came out for some fresh air when I saw Lia’s car, and then Lia herself coming out of the cabin. At frickin’ midnight. How can you send her home this time of night—have you no regard for her safety?”
Brand’s eyes were troubled as they ran over Lia’s body.
“I wanted her to stay. But I’m pretty sure she thinks she’ll catch cooties or something if she stays the night.”
“Can’t say I blame her,” Daff muttered beneath her breath.
“Oh, come on!” Brand protested in exasperation. “Stop acting like I’m some cheesy silent-movie villain. Your sister and I are adults, engaged in a mutually beneficial relationship—”
“Fling,” Lia corrected, uncomfortable with the R word in this context. Brand sent her an annoyed glare.
“The point is, we know what we’re doing, and it’s none of your business.”
“Fine, whatever,” Daff said, throwing up her hands in irritation. “Fling away. But let’s be clear, Brand, you hurt her and I’ll castrate you.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Lia muttered. “Stop this, both of you. Daff, the castration thing’s a bit much.”
“I don’t think so,” Daff said belligerently.
“Brand’s right, this is none of your business. I appreciate your concern and I love you for it, but I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.”
“Famous last words,” Daff muttered.
“Look, just . . . keep this to yourself, okay? I don’t need the whole family trying to give me their well-intentioned advice, and Brand doesn’t need to be threatened by every member of the family. It’s unnecessary. He’s not doing anything I haven’t explicitly agreed to.”
“Very explicitly,” he emphasized smugly, and Lia flashed him an irritated look.
“Brand,” she warned, and he shrugged before folding his arms over his chest. “Daff, you owe me. I didn’t tell Daisy about you and Spencer when you were doing your no-strings thing. And you know how difficult it is for me to lie.”
“I do, which is why I’m having a hard time believing you’ve successfully kept this from us for so long.”
“It’s different—nobody knew about it, nobody asked questions. I didn’t have to say a word.”
“Until Brand had to cover for you with the bullshit pain meds story.”
“Look, just keep it to yourself, okay? Please.”
“Fine. But you can’t expect me to keep it from Spencer.”
“Spencer, uh . . . ,” Brand started to say, then stopped abruptly, and both women looked at him curiously.
“What about Spencer?” Daff asked, and Brand shrugged.
“Nothing. He’s a good guy.”
“Fine, you can tell Spencer, but no one else,” Lia agreed.
“I hope to God this works out the way you’re both expecting it to. I don’t want you to get hurt, Lia.”
“Hey, what about me?” Brand mock pouted, but Daff wasn’t amused.
“Trust me, I’ll take great pleasure in hurting you if you make her shed one tear.”
“I won’t,” he promised, suddenly dead serious. “I would hate to make her cry.”
Daff watched him for a long moment before finally nodding.
“Fine, I’m going to have to take you at your word. For now. I’m starting to freeze my butt off, so I think I’ll head back home. Lia, let me know when you’re home safe. Good night.”
They both bade her good night and watched her retreat back to the bigger house about a hundred yards away.
“Spencer already knows,” Brand told Lia, surprising her with the information. “But I didn’t want to throw the guy under the bus. Wouldn’t want her to take her bad mood out on him.”
“How does he know?” Lia asked, and Brand lifted his shoulders.
“Apparently he’s known since the stag. He’s an observant bastard.”
“Daff’s not going to like that he didn’t tell her.”
“He won’t tell her if he knows what’s good for him.”
Lia laughed at that response. “Oh, he’ll tell her, and she’ll be angry for two seconds, which he’ll deserve for keeping a secret like that from her in the first place. But they’ll be fine.”
Brand reached out to cup her face, and she lifted her eyes to his.
“You okay? I know this wasn’t ideal.”
“I’m fine,” Lia admitted with a serene smile, because she really was. This encounter with Daff had shown Lia that she was stronger than she knew. She tended to back away from confrontation, but she was proud of the way she’d stood her ground with Daff.
Brand surprised her with a gentle kiss before resting his forehead on hers.
“Stay?”
“No.” She kissed him and stepped away from him. “Good night, Brand.”
He said nothing, merely watched her moodily as she got into her car and drove away. He was still standing on the porch watching as she took the turn toward town.