The Closer You Come (The Original Heartbreakers, #1)(3)

Brook Lynn read their lips to the best of her ability, considering they weren’t looking directly at her and she didn’t know their speech patterns, picking up snippets of their conversation and filling in the rest.

“It’s only been six months,” Honey-gold said.

“Yes, and I want him to survive the next six,” West said. “This is going to cause problems.”

“Not with me.”

West glared at his friend.

“What? What’d I say that’s so bad?”

“The fact that you don’t know makes it worse.”

West and Dane were working on some kind of project together, which meant Kenna, who was never far from Dane’s side, and Brook Lynn, who spent what little free time she had with her best friend, had interacted with him more than anyone else in town. A few days ago, she’d asked him flat out why a guy who so obviously enjoyed the fast-paced city lifestyle had moved here—other than it being the greatest place on earth, of course. He’d merely turned on the charm, saying, “Why, to make all your dreams come true. You’re welcome.”

And now she had to try to get straight answers out of him. Peachy.

Determined, she walked over and tapped West on the shoulder.

He focused on her, a rebuke clearly poised at the edge of his tongue. When her identity clicked, he switched gears and grinned in welcome. “Well, well. If it isn’t the girl I want by my side if ever zombies attack.”

“When they attack,” she corrected. It was only a matter of time. And yes, she was one of those people. A believer. “Where’s Jessie Kay?”

The two men shared a look before Honey-gold took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Hello, beautiful. I’m Beck, and if you’ll give me thirty minutes of your time, I’ll make you forget your friend and most assuredly your name.”

Ah. The infamous Beck. Number two of the bachelors three. “Jessie Kay is my older sister, so I won’t be forgetting her, I promise you. But if you seriously possess the skill to make me forget my name, I swear I’ll find a way to marry you. Still interested in a hookup?”

Something akin to panic flashed over his features, though he managed to mask it quickly. “Forever with a beauty like you?” he said in the same easy tone. “You’re only whetting my appetite, darling.”

Women fall for that? Really? She focused on West—before she gave in to the temptation to teach Beck a lesson he’d never forget. “Where is she?”

West pushed out a breath. “You sure you want to know?”

She dropped her chin to her chest, her gaze staying on him and narrowing. “This conversation is fixing to start annoying me.”

Beck chuckled. “Fixing to start?”

“Something they love to say here. Just go with it.” West frowned and said to Brook Lynn, “You do realize I’ll be breaking all kinds of bro-code rules if I tell you.”

“Better you break the rules than I break your face.”

“Fair enough.” Looking suddenly and inexplicably irate, he said, “She’s in Jase’s bedroom.”

Jase, their other friend? Jessie Kay had turned her sights from Beck to him? Meaning Charlene Burns hadn’t been blowing smoke. Great! “Where is Jase’s bedroom?”

“Third door on the right,” West said, even pointed.

Beck slugged him in the arm. “Dude. What if they’re still busy?”

Busy? As in exactly what she suspected?

A tightness came over West’s features but he shrugged. “Her corneas will burn, but they’ll heal.”

“Dude,” Beck said again. “There is such a thing as privacy.”

Leaving the pair to their argument, she stalked out of the kitchen and down a hallway. The couples who’d migrated this way were pressed against the walls, making out, so no one noticed her. She came to the correct door and prepared to knock, announcing her presence...only to hesitate. If Jessie Kay was totally tee-rashed, the guy was taking advantage of her, and if Brook Lynn gave him any warning, he would stop whatever crime he was committing and hide the evidence. He needed to be caught red-handed.

Then again, if she walked in and interrupted two consenting adults while they were getting “busy,” her corneas would indeed be burned.

What was more important? Her sister or her eyes?

Okay, then. Decision made.

Brook Lynn turned the knob. Or would have, if it hadn’t held steady. Dang it! Locked out.

Well, too bad for Mr. Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar. A lock wasn’t actually a problem for her. Brook Lynn’s con man of an uncle had taught her how to pick anything with a tumbler. And hustle at pool. And cheat at poker. He’d actually taken her allowance every time she’d lost during a “practice” session.

She backtracked, avoiding the kitchen, and soon came to an office with a Keep Out sign posted on the door. Please. After confiscating two paper clips from the top drawer of the desk, she returned to the bedroom door. A quick insertion and twist...yes!...and she was able to push her way inside.

The lights were on. A man stood at the far edge of the bed, pulling a black T-shirt over his head and oh...wow...wow. She caught a delectable glimpse of olive skin and a delicious eight pack that could only be made from adamantium. A maze of intriguing tattoos she would have liked to study in-depth decorated much of his chest, but unfortunately the material covered him a second later, hiding the visual feast of sexy.