Olivia plopped a large hobo purse on the kitchen island and took a seat. “So how did you two meet?”
Brody growled. Even with the shitstorm swirling around her, Emma’s loins could appreciate that.
“Never mind the details, Liv. How about you explain how you got in?”
His sister’s smile was sweetly poisonous. “I had a key made when I visited at New Year. And boy am I glad I did.”
She refocused on Emma, eyes sparkling with mischief. “A fun meet-cute, I bet.”
“We met at a st—Starbucks. Could you imagine this guy in a strip club?”
Olivia shook her head, enthralled. “No, I could not.”
In for a G-string, in for a dollar. “He stole my coffee and I had to chase him down to get it. Me in five-inch heels, and him running like he was trying to get away.”
“With your stolen coffee.”
“Right!”
They both laughed, though there was an undercurrent of steel to Olivia’s. She clearly felt protective of her brother. Understandable, given Brody’s wealth, and the fact that a stripper was on the premises, wearing his shirt and yukking it up about coffee-stealing shenanigans.
“And now you’re here. How long have you two…?” She waved a hand.
“Olivia, let’s discuss this later,” Brody said, “Or, you know, not at all. Why are you here? A day early, I might add. And where are the girls?”
“I flew in late last night. The F-Troop arrive tomorrow, though Gabby is going to be crushed when I tell her you’re otherwise occupied.”
“The F-Troop?” Emma asked, trying to keep the snarl out of her voice.
“Yeah, the Fu—”
“Olivia,” Brody grated.
She smiled so sweetly it could cause diabetes. “I’d offered up my wedding party so my brother could get his mojo back. And they’ve all stepped up. Even my matron of honor.”
A snake of jealousy ran through Emma. Coldplay-loving Gabby and the rest of them better turn their sweet asses around and head back to Texas. There was an alpha bitch in town and she wasn’t letting anyone get between her and her man.
Emma blinked. Where the hell had that come from?
Kevin emerged from under one of the high stools and cozied up to Olivia’s designer shoe–clad foot.
“You got a cat?” Olivia asked her brother, her face crumpled in disbelief. “But you hate cats.”
“I don’t hate cats,” Brody said, and to prove it, he picked Kevin up. Kevin promptly bit him, dropped like an acrobat to the floor, and charged from the room in an affronted huff.
Brody glared at Emma as if her cat’s emotional problems were her fault and flexed his cat-bitten hand. “He’s a rescue cat. Led a hard life, so he’s getting used to people being kind to him again.”
Emma’s heart hitched. Poor Kevin. That’s exactly what was running through his pea-sized brain.
Olivia stared at her brother and gave a slight shake of her head. “I’ve clearly interrupted something here, so I’ll let you get back to it. Walk me to the door, Brody?” And to Emma, “Pleasure, Chardonnay.”
…
Brody followed his sister out. “Hand it over.”
“What?”
“Now.”
She placed a key in his outstretched palm, clearly miffed. Christ, she was so damn spoiled.
“I’ll be notifying the doorman that you are not to be allowed up without a call from downstairs first.”
“I can’t believe you scored with a stripper.”
“She’s just dancing to—”
“Put herself through graduate school?” she finished with a smirk.
He had no idea why Emma was doing this, any of it. Why wouldn’t she just take his damn help? There was that ping of doubt again. Grigson was more crooked than a barrelful of fishhooks. Maybe she was still working for him, embedded behind enemy lines while she reeled Brody in and bilked him for more than the few thousand dollars she likely owed. A long con.
He’d resisted the urge to run a background check on her. Part of him wanted to stay out of her business; the other part worried about what he might find. Needing to know more made her important to him. Made him want to trust her. The less he knew, the less he could be hurt.
The revelation that Emma might have the capacity to hurt him was like a bite to the back of his neck.
“She’s had a hard life.”
“Like the cat?” Skepticism pinched the corners of her mouth. “Brody, this thing with the stripper—and I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth—it’s just a fling, right? I’m sure she’s very nice, but my fiancé, the family values platform congressman, isn’t going to be too pleased to see her showing up as your plus one in two months. Tell me you’re not serious about her.”
He bit back his grimace. “Of course not. You wanted me to get my mojo back and here I am. Mojo’d to the max.”