The excitement in Bronte’s voice unleashed a new set of feelings inside me. Her approval thawed the ice around my frozen heart. The sensation triggered an immediate need for more. I’d forgotten how it felt to be appreciated by a woman, perhaps because Amy had never shown anything more than tolerance for me during the last year of our marriage. My lingering smile must’ve given away my thoughts, because Carter snorted. He’d dropped by to kill some time before a court appearance with one of his clients.

“Oh, God.” He made a gagging noise as I hung up the phone.

“Shut it,” I replied, refusing to let his jaded outlook spoil my good mood.

“You really like this girl, don’t you?” His sharp gaze locked onto my face.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” The realization made my guts shrivel. Was I ready for this? I scrubbed a hand over my face and tried to steady my breath.

“Chocolates and hearts and flowers and shit.” Carter shook his head. “Fuck me, you’re turning into a sap.”

“It’s not sappy. It’s being romantic.”

“Pfft.” He sniffed and adjusted himself, like the very notion insulted his manhood. “I could be romantic if I wanted.”

It was my turn to laugh at him. “You wouldn’t know romance if it slapped you in the face.”

“Bullshit. I’ll have you know that I always give a girl cab fare home after we screw.”

“That’s not romance. That’s being polite.” I rolled my eyes at his crassness. “You’re a lost cause.”

“Rhett, there’s a woman here to see you.” Freya’s disapproving tone floated through the intercom. Carter made a jacking-off motion with his hand. I frowned at him.

“I’m busy.” We still hadn’t gotten over the awkwardness of our last disagreement, and it showed in her tone.

“I told her to make an appointment, but she’s insisting. Her name is Jo Hollander.”

My eyes widened.

Carter grinned. “You’ve got a thing for sisters, don’t you?”

“It’s okay. Send her in,” I said to Freya before shooting a warning glare at Carter. “Not one fucking word.”

“My lips are sealed.” He made a lock-and-key motion over his lips, but the broad smile on his face left me queasy.

I swiveled my chair to face the door at the same instant Jo barreled over the threshold. The smile on my face dropped away upon the seeing the fire in her eyes. Beneath the desk, I dropped a protective hand over my balls, remembering her earlier threats. “Hi, Jo. By the look on your face, this isn’t a social call, I presume. Is Bronte okay?”

“No. She’s not okay.” She quivered to a stop in front of my desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “And it’s your fault.”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms in the deflective position I assumed for angry employees and Freya. “I just talked to her, and she seemed fine.”

Jo closed her eyes and inhaled sharply through her nose, like she was trying to get control of her emotions. When she opened them, the anger in their depths took me by surprise. She was truly pissed. “She told me about the Seaforth party. About what you did. I told you not to fuck with her, but you went ahead and did it anyway. I don’t know why I thought you’d be different.” This last part was muttered under her breath.

“I didn’t fuck with her. Not on purpose anyway. We had a misunderstanding. It happens.” I studied her, intrigued by the direction of our conversation. “Besides, we’ve talked. It’s all good.”

“You men are all the same.” She cocked a hip, her voice lowering. “I want you to stay away from her.”

“Since when is my relationship with Bronte any of your business?” I bristled at her condescending tone, the way she thought she could control her sister.

“Bronte is my responsibility. Everything she does is my concern.”

“I don’t think so.” My words surprised me as much as they did her. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “I like Bronte. We’re having dinner this weekend. With or without your blessing.”

Jo’s bosom heaved. She placed both palms on my desk and leaned forward, her eyes darkening. “Bronte can’t handle your head games. She’s too fragile.”

“Bronte can handle herself just fine. She’s an amazing woman. You don’t give her enough credit.” My temper began to flare at the way Jo belittled her sister, and I was sick of interference from people who thought they knew my intentions better than I did.

“You don’t know anything about Bronte.” Her voice shook with passionate conviction.

“I know enough of her to understand how sensitive and brilliant she is.” I lifted a hand in a show of peace. The last thing I needed was another angry woman in my life. “She’s exceptional.”

“Please. I’m not naïve, like my sister. Your pretty face isn’t going to charm me. I know the way you hurt her.” Anger and irritation swirled through her dark eyes. “I’m here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Good lord. I was so sick of people telling me what to do. “I think you’re projecting your personal bullshit onto Bronte. Otherwise, you’d be able to see that she’s perfectly capable of living a normal life—without you.” Jo paled and took a step back. I should’ve stopped there, but once the ball was rolling, I couldn’t stop it. “Maybe you need to worry more about yourself and less about us.”

Her nostrils flared. I had to admire her caring, even though she’d overstepped the boundaries of my personal space and Bronte’s. “So, you’re not going to leave her alone?”

I shook my head, my temper cooling. “Bronte’s lucky to have someone who cares so much for her, but she’s not a kid anymore.” Jo had every right to be concerned about her sister’s welfare, and I didn’t want to come between them. My tone gentled. Not only would I have to earn Bronte’s trust, I’d have to earn Jo’s as well. “I’ll take care of her. I promise you, Jo.”

“If an Easton gives you his word, you can believe him,” Carter said, rising out of his chair. By Jo’s startled expression, she hadn’t noticed him before. Her mouth dropped open then closed with a snap. “I’ve known Rhett all my life. He’s a good guy.”

“Jo, this is my friend, Carter Eckhouse.” My gaze bounced between them, eager to see her reaction.

“Nice to meet you, Jo.” Carter wiped his palm over his cargo pants before extending it toward Jo. She glared at his big hand, the man bun on top of his head, his tattooed forearms, and recoiled.

“You—you— I should have known you wouldn’t listen.” She sputtered then whirled and stomped out of the office.

“She’s amazing,” Carter said on an exhaled breath.

“No,” I said.

“Angry fuck,” Carter replied, his gaze locked onto Jo’s retreating backside.

“Carter.” I cocked my head, glaring.

One side of his mouth curled up like a comma. “See you later, brother.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and sprinted toward the elevator. “Hope you work things out.”

I scrubbed a hand through my hair and sank into my chair, uncertain what had just happened. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to see more of Bronte, and I was willing to go the extra mile to make it happen.