I wrapped one big hand around the back of her neck. “You don’t have to play hostess, ya know? They’re happy to help, and it’s clear they need no one to serve the drinks, babe.”
“Babe?” Her eyes flipped up to mine.
Fuck.
Ignore. Ignore.
Slip of the tongue and all that.
I cleared my throat and smoothed my hand down her back.
“How’d you get into this building anyway? I’m surprised there’s not a doorman.” I masterfully changed the subject.
“With my key code.” She laughed, and her color came back as she cuddled against me.
“Very funny.”
Somehow, Shy’s lips slid against my jaw—just a glance of warmth and wetness—before she rested her head on my shoulder.
“Inheritance from my grandmother. I used it for the shop and this place but donated most of it to MUSC Children’s Hospital.”
“That’s generous.” I angled my head to peer down at her.
Shiloh averted her face as she moved to the other side of the couch. “Not really.” She was silent for a few moments, sitting with her lips pressed together, before she said, “Remember Sinclair? Sinclair Chatham?”
“Yeah. ’Course.” I’d noted her house that night I’d dropped off Shy. “The pretty blonde? Your other neighbor on The Battery?”
“Mm hmm.” Shy finally looked at me again. “She heads up the family’s philanthropic ventures. She was working on a fundraiser for the hospital, so I thought . . . why not?”
Why not? Why not give up what probably amounted to a fortune at her ripe old age of twenty-four?
“I still think that’s pretty generous.”
A half smile curled her lips. “What difference does it make? I don’t need much. And anyway, look at you. You never cared about the money.”
“Oh yeah. Look at me. Not exactly a shining example of how to lead a successful life, Shy.”
She gazed at me, and some emotion I couldn’t quite read darkened her deep gray irises. It wasn’t censure, which was what I was used to from the people I knew from back in the day. Looked more like . . . longing.
“I like it when you call me Shy.” Her teeth bit slowly into the pillowy pout of her bottom lip.
I was suddenly very glad she wasn’t sitting in my lap anymore. Her tone of voice—low and thrilling—did strange and totally unwanted things to my insides. And definitely to my groin where the hard shape of my cock started forming and filling.
The tense silence between us lengthened, the air almost stilling around us. Shy blinked, a slow fluttering of eyelashes that left her irises hidden half-mast.
“Hey, Shiloh!” Brodie barged in.
I hadn’t even realized I’d been leaning toward Shy, intent on . . . kissing her. Snapping back so fast I think my back fucking cracked, I wedged myself firmly in the corner of the couch.
Brodie looked from me to her to me again, and I knew the epic dicktool was barely refraining from waggling his eyebrows.
He took a long chug of beer then swiped his forearm across his mouth. “We’re headed to Isle of Palms for a swim. Come to the beach with us? Night surfing. The waves are up.”
Shy’s gaze swept to me and locked in quickly before she glanced away. “I can’t. Too much to do.”
“C’mon. I bought Ashe a bikini to show off her bodacious baby-momma-body. Cat and Nicky will be there with little Danny. You should meet the whole crew.”
Rising to her feet, Shy clasped her hands in front of herself. Her expression again looked longing . . . wistful.
She shut that down, though, shaking her head. “Not tonight. But thank you so much for asking, Brodie. That’s very sweet.”
We tromped through her condo after cleaning up the empties and the mess on the deck, and left on the elevator.
I’d hugged her with a safe amount of distance between us, keeping my hands on her shoulders even while her light perfume drifted over me.
And she stood outside as the doors slid shut, leaving her alone.
Two seconds later, and the dudes started in:
“She’s so ready to join the Cult of Handsome.” Tail held out his fist for a bump that wasn’t coming.
Instead I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Are you blind or somethin’? Shiloh is into you, my man.” Brodie knocked his boot against my foot.
My jaw clenched . . . hard.
“Hey”—Coletrane lounged back—“if you’re not going after her then I might—”
Unleashing a snarl that came out of nowhere, I cranked my forearm against his throat and leaned in. “Shut the fuck up, Cole. Warned you once already. Not gonna do it again.”
Cole’s eyes weren’t the only ones to pop out of his head. I felt Brodie’s and Tail’s shocked stares, too.
I was seriously pissed off, and it showed as I shoved my thick forearm even harder against Cole.
I never lost my shit. Not like this. Not with a friend.
The elevator dinged. The doors opened. I let Cole go.
Stepping out first, I expected Cole to come right back at me with a punch or a tackle—the man met me muscle for muscle, and it would be a fight for the centuries—but he clasped my shoulder in a bro move instead.
“Hey. Didn’t mean to disrespect your lady,” he apologized.