Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3)

"I can have pie with breakfast. I'm an adult."

"You sure could have fooled me," I say, taking a long gulp of my coffee. I don't know whether I believe there's a new and improved grown-up Hendrix lurking under that muscled exterior.

But Beatrice brings the pancakes and the pie, and I suddenly realize I'm ravenous. We dig into the food and Hendrix is Hendrix -- inappropriate and stupid -- and soon I'm forgetting everything that's passed between us, and I'm laughing so hard I snort coffee up my nose, which makes me laugh even harder. It feels good to laugh. It's been a long time since I laughed the way I'm laughing now.

And then we're finished eating before I remember that I've forgotten to ask what the hell the plan is here.



"Well, fuck me sideways," Hendrix says, whistling as he stands in the foyer to the apartment and looks around.

"You're very classy."

Hendrix shrugs. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've never pretended to be classy, sweet cheeks."

"Stop calling me that," I say, shutting the door. "It's too – "

I pause. I want to say that it's too much like something a pet name a boyfriend would use, but just the thought of equating Hendrix with my boyfriend makes my heart race, and I don't know why.

"It's too what?" he asks. "I can't just call you Addy all the time. What would be the fun in that?"

I roll my eyes. "I call you Hendrix."

"That's because you're boring."

"Whatever. I'm a music star. As if you're more interesting than I am."

Hendrix laughs, and as annoyed as I am with him, the sound immediately fills the room with warmth. "Sure you are, sugar tits."

"That's a much worse nickname."

"Well, I told you to be happy with sweet cheeks." Hendrix walks across the living room, pulling back the blinds by the window and peering outside, then surveying the room like he's on a mission. I watch him for a minute, before following him into the kitchen and down the hallway.

"Need help with anything?" I ask, not even trying to hide my sarcasm. I was playing nice before, but he's basically invited himself into my apartment and now he's walking around like he owns the damn place.

"Nope." Hendrix peers inside one of the bedrooms.

"That wasn't an offer," I say. "I was being sarcastic. Most people don't just poke their noses around someone else's house. Most people say, oh you have a lovely home, why yes, I'd love a cup of coffee, and then they sit their asses down on the sofa and have a cup of coffee. Or whatever."

Hendrix turns around to face me, and I inhale sharply at his proximity. He smells like soap and aftershave, something clean, with just the hint of cologne I can't quite place. It's woodsy and manly and…I can't help it, I breathe in his scent deeply. Suddenly, I'm some kind of weirdo that goes around sniffing men.

I hope Hendrix didn't notice. How would I explain that? Sorry, I was just inhaling your scent? I promise I don't keep a lock of your hair under my pillow.

I haven't gotten enough sleep. That's what it is. I must be losing my mind.

"You're vulnerable," Hendrix says, looking down at me. His voice is deep, ragged, and electricity runs through my body at the sound, making me jump just as if he had touched me.

"Ex – excuse me?" I choke out the words.

"This apartment," he says. "You're vulnerable to a security breach. Do you know that? Has my dad had this place checked out?"

I exhale heavily. "This place is vulnerable."

"Yeah," he says, stepping back from me. He's already down the hall before I catch my breath again. "What did you think I meant?"

"I don't need security," I call after him, following him into one of the bedrooms. "I don't want security. I'm not a damn rock star. This is Nashville, not LA."

"You've had crazy fans. I remember some of them."

"That was back in the beginning, Hendrix. When I was a kid." I'd had some obsessive fans here and there, and some that were mentally ill, like the woman who showed up at our house because she swore I was her granddaughter.

"It doesn't stop because you're older, Addy," he says. His voice is softer, and he looks at me now with an expression I can't quite place. "You need to be careful. You have to stay safe."

"I'm fine. I don't want a babysitter," I say. I make my voice firm. I try to sound sure of myself. "Especially you, of all people."

Hendrix narrows his eyes, and the muscles in his face ripple as he clenches his jaw. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, me of all people?"

What was it supposed to mean? "All of this...the meeting, you as my bodyguard...was just thrown at me," I say, my voice a lot steadier now. "I don't want you here."

"Well, I've got news for you, Addison," he says, his eyes steady, trained on mine. "I didn't particularly want to be here either."

"Then why are you here, bothering me?"