Gavin steps to the side with a sweep of his arm, giving me a mocking half-bow. “He’s waiting for you in the living room.”
“Okay.” Suddenly, I’m nervous. I was anxious on the way over, but now I’m nervous, and that’s something I never feel. I mean, not about meeting guys. Guys have been easy to me ever since I realized that the combination of my smile and my boobs usually shorts out their big brains and turns on their little brains. Problem is, I always attract the wrong ones.
I start walking toward the front door and then stop, turning around when I don’t hear anyone else moving. Instead, I see them staring back at me, Gavin still with that cocky grin on his face.
“Well, you coming?” I ask, annoyed. I get it—Gavin’s pulling a bit of a joke, but this is taking it too far.
They both shake their heads. “I thought it best that you two meet and get to know each other,” Gavin says. “We’re gonna go for a walk.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “Brianna Adams, you’re not gonna do this to me!”
Brianna shrugs, chuckling from something Gavin whispers in her ear before turning a saucy grin on me. “Mindy Isabella Price, don’t tell me you’re scared of meeting a man?”
I snap my lips shut. She has a point. I’m never scared of anything, especially not men. I stick my nose up in the air, turning on my heel with a harrumph.
“Fine. I don't need you. Bye, Felicia.”
Brianna laughs as I spin around and march down the hall. Despite my show of bravery, I can barely stop my heart from hammering away in my chest. By the time I reach the archway, I’m covered in a sheen of sweat. I pause at the doorway, gathering myself.
Get ahold of yourself, Mindy.
Taking a deep breath, I start to relax. I’m in control. I’ve got this.
I walk through the doorway into the living room. “Hello?”
My breath stills in my lungs and my heart stops as the man in one of the chairs sets down the book he’s been reading and looks up.
There, sitting in a leather club chair, is God. Well, he’s not God, but maybe the dark, sensual reflection of Him . . . maybe the Devil? His coal black hair is accented by rich brown eyes that gleam with intelligence and a dark dangerousness that both chills and thrills me at the same time. He’s wearing a white shirt with bulging biceps straining against the fabric, and I can see the swell of his chest muscles under his tanned skin through the deep V at his chest. I swear it looks like he’s got a grapefruit stuffed in his pants as he sits there, his legs slightly apart like he owns the place, an amused smirk on his sensual lips.
Say something, you idiot!
I know I should speak, but it’s like a cat’s got my tongue. He’s put me in a trance and he hasn’t even said anything yet.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he asks with a slight chuckle, and I note the confidence in his eyes. The cocky curl of his lip. He thinks he’s all that and the bonus prize, doesn’t he?
I don’t fucking think so.
I stand up straight and walk over. His eyes follow me, and my skin pricks, my normal confidence evaporating as I get another look at him. Holy fuck, he’s hot. I sit down across from him, crossing my legs, showing him what I think is my best asset.
I gesture between us, trying to appear more confident than I feel. “I want to start by saying that I appreciate your doing this for me—”
“Gavin,” he says, interrupting me. His voice is deep, rich, and soothing. It reminds me of the taste of smooth, delicious white chocolate. “I’m doing it for Gavin.”
A flush comes over my cheeks. “Well then . . . doing it for Gavin,” I say, still a little tongue-tied. “Sorry, this is all catching me a little off balance. Uhm, what’s your name?”
The man chuckles, and his dark eyes gleam as he looks me over. “Oliver. And trust me, I was just as shocked when Gavin told me about it.”
I feel like squirming. He’s got me heating up, and all I know is his first name! “So, why are you doing this for Gavin?”
His eyes never leave my face as he replies, “I owe him.”
I want to ask him to elaborate, but I can tell in his posture that it’s something he doesn't want to talk about.
“Talkative, are we? Well, can you at least tell me something about yourself?” I ask. “Have you been married? Got any kids?”
He chuckles. “Never married, and last girlfriend was over a year ago.” He scratches his chin, and for some reason, it makes him even hotter that he’s not totally perfect. I can’t help it. I’m relieved he hasn’t been married. “I recently quit my job, actually,” he adds.
“Why?” I ask. Here it comes, the big letdown. He spends his days playing video games and wants to be a YouTube ‘star’.
He pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I had a disagreement with my boss and decided it was time to go on my own way. So I moved here. Mom has a bad leg and needed help around the house. I wanted to help her and maybe start up something here in town.”
I nod softly. Better than I hoped. “That’s admirable.”
“I hear you work up at that coffee shop in the Grand Waterway,” Oliver replies. “Enjoy it?”
I roll my eyes. “Most of the time. I’ve been hoping to open my own one day. There’s a ton that we have to do to fit with hotel policies that I don’t like. I’ve been saving and saving, and I mean, working with Gavin and Bri is great and all, but . . .”
“Running a business is harder than you think. If you think you work a lot now, wait until you have your own,” Oliver says.
I stop, surprised. “Yeah, but it will be mine so—”
“You’ll work harder?” he interrupts. “Yeah, at first you will, but then it’ll become the same old, same old and you’ll want to slop the work off on some other poor bastard.”
“That’s not my style,” I say.
He shrugs, uncaring. “That’s what they all say.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” I say more sharply than I intended, and I realize it. “Sorry. But I don’t shirk shit off onto my workers.”
Oliver waves it off. “Don’t be. At least you’re being real. I imagine you won’t be as soon as we see your family.”
His little jab stings. But I feel like I have to do this next bit. “My mother, she’s uh . . . she’s marrying someone who has money. She’s become a little snobby.”
Oliver groans, rubbing at his temples as he gives me raised eyebrows. “One of those?”
“Yeah. One of those.” I pause, digging in my purse to bring out a picture. “I brought a picture book with names attached. This might be a little easier if you can recognize a few of them.”
I toss it over to him, and he opens it and begins flipping through pages. “Aunt Rita,” he mutters.
“You’ll love her. She’s a firecracker with a sharp mouth.”
Oliver keeps going, pausing a few pages later. “Roxy? Cute name. She looks like you.”
“That’s my sister. She calls herself a younger, better version of me. But that’s a lie.” I swing my hair around, lifting my nose to the ceiling. “You can’t top perfection.”
He chuckles and flips through a few more pages then sets the book aside. “I can handle it. I’ll give it a look over later.”
“Also,” I say, digging in my purse and pulling out a piece of paper, “I’ve prepared a list of rules, some dos and don'ts. Just so we’re on the same page here.”
I feel stupid. When I made it this morning, I didn't know I’d be walking right into a man who’s literally sex on a stick, but he just flashes me a little grin. “Hit me.”
I try not to tremble as I recite them. “First, when we’re not in the presence of my family, you’re not allowed to touch me. And if there comes a time where we display affection for show, only I initiate it. Also, in front of my family, you’ll never lay a hand anywhere on my body that can be deemed inappropriate. Last, you’ll always be respectful and laugh at my jokes.”
My heart is pounding as I lower the paper. “I’ll give you a paper with more, but that’s all I could think of for now.”
He chuckles, amused. “That’s cute. But I’m going to let you know now, Princess, that I’ve never followed rules well.”
I grip my throat as anger flares up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”