The Summer Deal (Wildstone #5)(66)

A liar who’d known her truth before she had.

A long time before she had.

She cleared her throat loudly, and he shot straight up. He had bedhead, wrinkled clothes, and eyes at half-mast, lazy with sleep as they landed on her. “You okay?” he asked.

Dammit. Why couldn’t he just stay in the asshole file? This would be a whole lot easier on her if he did. And no, she wasn’t okay, not by a long shot, but, hey, when was she ever really? “What are you doing in here?”

“Making sure you’re okay.”

“No, you were sleeping. And snoring and drooling.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Like a buzz saw,” she said. “I’ve got no idea how you even slept through it.”

“Maybe you’ve got the two of us confused.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t snore.”

He gave her a small smile. “You sure?”

Shit. No. Because she did snore when she’d been drinking. With a huff, she tossed her covers aside and then stared down at herself. She was wearing her bra and panties. “Where are my clothes?”

“You threw them off just before climbing into bed. I tried to get you into pj’s, but you threatened to hit me over the head with the bottle of wine you were hugging if I so much as touched you.” He stretched and grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck; meanwhile, his shirt rose up and exposed a strip of tanned abs. Pretending not to notice, she started to stand up, swayed, and then sat back down.

He stood up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “If I make you my famous hangover fix for breakfast, think you can keep it down?” he asked.

“I’m not hungover.” Look at that. She could lie too. “But yes.”

He looked at her for a moment, then sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning over her, and for a beat her body betrayed her, wanting to pull him down on top of her.

Bad body.

He ran a finger down the side of her face, his touch warm and gentle, and she closed her eyes.

He waited until she opened them again to speak. “You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re amazing and resilient, is what you are. But you’re not fine, at least not yet.”

She tossed up her hands. “Then why did you ask me?”

“To get you talking to me.”

“You’re a sneaky one.” She looked away. “I’m . . . mad. Hurt. What happened last night cemented my shitty track record with trust.”

He nodded solemnly. “I know. For the first time in my life, I nearly broke a promise and told you. But I knew it should come from Kinsey, who wanted to tell you.”

“She’s your family,” she said. “I get it. But as it turns out, she’s my family too.” She shook her head. “Funny how I thought it would feel different.”

“Family, real family, is different,” he said. “And it has nothing to do with blood ties. I’m hoping you can eventually give me a chance to prove that to you.”

“You, or all of you?”

He met her anger with regret and a grace she probably couldn’t have managed. “All of us.”

She made no comment on that. Because, unlike everyone else around here, she valued the truth. She also wanted answers. “Why didn’t she tell me all those years ago?”

“She didn’t want you to think she was calling only because she needed a kidney. She didn’t want you to pay a price for a relationship with her.”

“That wasn’t for her to decide.”

“True, but Kinsey’s as stubborn as”—a small smile curved his mouth—“well, you, actually.”

She stared at that mouth for a long beat, annoyed that all she could remember was how amazing it felt on hers.

“I screwed up,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

“Tell me the truth. Was I just a way to help Kinsey?”

“No.” Eyes filled with sorrow and remorse, he bent his head and touched his forehead to hers. “Never. I wanted you and Kinsey to connect. I didn’t realize it would be me feeling the connection. But that’s exactly what happened.” He cupped her face and her body reacted. Her hands went to his forearms and slid up to his biceps, then into his hair. She sucked in a shaky breath, but before she could speak, there came a single knock at her bedroom door as it opened—Kinsey doing her typical knock and enter at the same time, with utter disregard for anyone’s privacy.

Brynn pulled back from Eli and crossed her arms. “Does no one understand what a damn shut door means?!”

Kinsey slapped her hand over her eyes. “Oh my God. You’re in bed together. My life’s falling apart and you’re having sex? Seriously?”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Go away, Kinsey.”

Kinsey didn’t, of course. “Are you dressed?” she asked, leaving her hands over her eyes, looking pained. “Tell me you’re fully clothed.”

Brynn sighed. “Go. Away.”

Kinsey dropped her hand from her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “Eli, I need to talk to my sister.”

“Oh, look at that,” Brynn said. “So you can say those words in the same sentence—‘my’ and ‘sister.’”