Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(8)

He had little doubt as to why Marin was there.

***

“I’ve already booked two tickets. First class. We leave for Vegas in the morning and then after that, we head out to Virginia.” Marin tried to pretend she wasn’t nervous as she poured sweet tea from a thermos into a glass for Sebastien, then poured some for herself.

It was damn hard not to be nervous, though.

She’d told Zane she’d get Sebastien there.

Come hell or high water, she was going to do just that.

This breach he had put between himself and his family was eating away at him and it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough shit doing that already.

Sebastien squinted at the glass and then at her. “What’s this?”

“Sweet tea.” She smiled as she pushed the plate she’d prepared over to him. She was in between projects—actually, she had absolutely nothing planned for the rest of the year. The other movie she’d thought she’d be doing this summer folded after the director was found in bed with a teenager—and her mom. Marin honestly didn’t even want to touch the project now, and it didn’t sound like anybody else did, either. The fact that it had been a kid’s movie was probably part of the reason she was so squicked out. The son of a bitch had been sleeping with the teenager who was the star of the movie.

Marin would have been playing her mother on the show, and part of her wanted to spank the girl and beat her mom.

The fall project had been pushed to the following year. Things were always getting shifted and rearranged in Hollywood, but she rarely had several months free at once and she planned to enjoy them to the absolute fullest. Come winter, she had to hit the ground running.

But while she was enjoying her downtime, she was being lazy and enjoying some good old-fashioned comfort food—and so was Sebastien. Even if she had to force it down his throat.

He made a face as he took a sip. “It would taste better with a little less sweet, a lot more tea, and maybe a few shots of vodka.”

“No vodka,” she said firmly. She pointed a fork at him. “Eat.”

He picked up the piece of fried chicken and eyed her narrowly. The left eye was no longer the pristine blue-green it had once been. It was slightly foggy and she knew the vision had been affected by the injury. There was an intensity to his gaze now that hadn’t been there a year ago, and combined with the overall sensuality—that hadn’t faded—Sebastien’s stare could almost be considered a deadly weapon.

“You realize this is a little different from your standard fare,” he said, pointing the drumstick toward her.

“I know. Eat. We need to get you sobered up and figure out if you have anything decent in your closet.” Lips pursed, she studied him. “Then again, we might have to go shopping. I doubt anything you used to have would fit.”

He already had a bite in his mouth. He managed to swallow before saying, “I’m not going.”

“Oh, yes. You are.” Marin gave him a serene smile.

“No. I’m not.”

She just cocked a brow at him and smiled coolly.

***

I’m not going.

Sebastien thought the words to himself.

Then, just to make sure he had them down, he said them . . . quietly. “I’m not going . . .” He thought he almost had the voice for Manny the mammoth from Ice Age. His nephew loved that movie. Or at least he used to. He hadn’t talked to the kid in forever. Scowling, he shoved the thought aside and then practiced the words again.

Yeah, they sounded right. Sounded like he meant them.

So why in the hell was he sitting in the back of a hired limo with Marin, on the way to the airport?

Marin took out the Bluetooth and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Didn’t I say, I’m not going?” He stared at her.

She looked amused. “You did. And yet . . .” She looked around the car, a faint smile on her pretty mouth.

Sebastien looked away so she wouldn’t see him staring at those lips, wouldn’t realize he still thought about kissing her. A lot. All the time.

“So I said I wasn’t going. I meant it. Yet I’m in a car with you and I don’t really want to be. I think this could count as kidnapping.” Arms crossed over his chest, he glared straight ahead. He suspected she was about to start laughing and if she did, he’d probably smile and he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to go to Vegas or see his family. He’d f*cked things up with them, but he wasn’t ready to fix things, either.

He wanted to go back to his house on the beach, get drunk, and just . . . be.

When it was just him, or him and Marin, he didn’t have to think about what an * he was. He didn’t have to think about what a failure he was.

“Seb . . .”

It wasn’t until she touched his hand that he realized she’d slid across the wraparound bench seat to sit closer. She covered his hand with hers, and in that moment, he turned his around and grabbed hers, clinging to her desperately. There was understanding in her eyes. Like she got it. Like maybe she understood what it was to mess up . . . everything.

He wanted a drink, needed it, even. But while there might have been something stashed in the built-in bar, he wasn’t about to look. He couldn’t do that. Not with Marin here. It wasn’t like he was hiding anything. There wasn’t much to hide from her. But he didn’t have to show that much of his weakness, either.