The party was by order of Cassie and that meant for once she made the rules. Today’s only order of business was that there was to be no discussion of a certain new club. I could live with that; I had other ideas to occupy my time with.
“Does work ever stop with you?” I ask, playfully. Today was supposed to be about relaxing, and she’s failing my number one rule. Savannah looks up from her phone and I give in to my evil intents and pluck the annoying object from her hands and slid it into the waistband of my board shorts.
“If you want something, all you have to do is ask,” she says coyly, eyeing my lap. Shit her gaze has magic powers. “No need to take my fucking phone.”
“I didn’t know they made phones especially for that.”
She leans across the console of the car and I try to keep my eyes trained on her face, but they wander to the excellent view of her breast in her swimsuit. She runs her hand up my thigh until it connects with her phone.
“They make things for everything these days,” she purrs. She catches my lower lip with her teeth and gives it a gentle pull. I follow her lead as she leans back into her seat, wanting more of what she’s promised.
The door swings open and she steps out, phone in hand, leaving me frustrated and hard in the front seat. She leans down and looks at me with the devil in her eye. “Are you coming?” She holds up the phone.
I relax back in my seat, trying to calm the erection straining my board shorts. This woman is going to be the end of me. Actually, strike that: she’s going to resurrect me every time she wants sex.
“Not yet,” I say. Focus, I remind myself. This is just a thing. It might be the first thing I want to repeat, but this is it.
“Maybe if you’re good, you’ll get what you want.”
With that, I get out of the car. Savy’s back on her phone, her fingers flying.
“So what is so important on that magic box of yours?”
“Misty Singh.”
“She’s fantastic.”
“You like her.”
“Do I lose manly points if I say yes?”
“No.”
“I like her music, but personally I prefer blondes—with curls,” I say tugging playfully on Savannah’s curls in her ponytail.
“My agent friend sent her to me.”
We climb the steps to the small front porch, and Shelby already has the door thrown open. Beer in hand, she’s arguing with Jackson, ready to storm out of the house in a flashy exit.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business, Jackson, and if you say one more thing about who I date, I’m leaving.” The moment she sees us the mood shifts. Shelby’s face morphs into a brilliant smile.
“You’re my sister, and who you date is my fucking business,” Jackson says, loud.
“Savannah, finally some sanity,” Shelby says, throwing herself at Savannah. I have half a mind to step between them—I want to keep Savannah to myself. But the girls are such good friends, and no one denies Shelby and gets away with it. Jackson nods at me as the girls disappear around the house.
Jackson glares after his sister and takes a long pull from his beer. “Never have siblings—especially younger sisters.”
“Too late,” I say before I can stop myself. I never talk about my family, but Jackson doesn’t make a big deal.
“Is she dating yet?”
The thought hits me like sunlight during a hangover. Tasha will not date. Not now—preferably not ever. Not even when she’s married. Strike that, she’s never getting married.
“She’s just twenty,” I say. Too young to date, that sister of mine.
Jackson laughs. “You want to keep it that way, trust me.”
“At least my sister stays out of my dating life,” I tell him.
“You don’t want to tell her about Savannah?”
“We’re not—” I mean to say we’re not dating, but it doesn’t come out. Today could be counted as a date. We were getting sideways and having a good time doing it, too. Dating complicates things. If I’ve learned anything from watching Ryder and Cassie these past few months, it’s that just as hot as they could burn, they could go through some bitter fights. I prefer to skip those. No matter how good make-up sex is supposed to be. I can get great sex anywhere without the hassle of a fight.
Jackson slings an arm over my shoulders. “You, my friend, need a drink.”
Best idea Jackson’s had all fucking day.
Jackson and I walk through the house, and we stop in the kitchen only long enough for me to grab a drink before we head out back to what can only be described as heaven on earth. Jackson’s pool area is the only reason I would ever want to own a home and settle down. The pool and the bar he had installed come straight outta this century’s Guide to Making a Man Cave. It was also the reason we always end up at his place. We planned Altitude over a long weekend when the heat made us all sluggish and we needed to remind ourselves why we loved ATL.