“Why the hell would you think…no, hang on. I’m not having this conversation naked.” He climbed out of bed and fastened his pants, then stripped off his unbuttoned shirt, which was damp from the bourbon, and folded it, set it on the end of the bed. He’d have to send it to the hotel’s laundry or it would stain.
As he turned to face Greer again, he grabbed the bourbon from the nightstand where Shelby had left it and took a long pull. He had a feeling he’d need alcohol for the coming conversation.
Greer eyed him. “Take it easy. You already smell like a distillery.”
“Body shots,” he muttered. And because the memory heated him up more than the bourbon, he took another pull from the bottle.
Greer made a choking sound. “Body shots?”
He lifted a shoulder. “What happens in Vegas…”
Greer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, I need a drink. No,” he added when Reece offered him the bottle. “Not that one. I’ll get my own.”
It was for the better, Reece decided and followed his brother to the living area. He planned to drink until he could no longer feel Shelby’s lips on him, until her scent left his nose and stopped fucking with his brain function. That would probably take every last ounce in the bottle. And then some.
He dropped to the couch and stared out the windows at the glittering neon of the strip. “What the hell made you think I’m gay?”
Greer grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped off the cap without a bottle opener. “Because you’ve never shown any interest in women.”
“And I have in men?”
“No. I just thought you were confused or embarrassed or—I don’t know. You haven’t seemed interested in sex, period, which is what led me to the asexual conclusion.”
“I’ve dated.”
“Yeah? Who?”
Reece fished through his memory for a name, any name, and came up empty. There had been women, here and there, but…
Yeah, he had nothing.
Greer pointed the neck of his bottle like a finger. “Exactly.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, you had an empire to build. Money to make.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, sorrow tinged Greer’s tone, and that kind of pissed him off. “We both know Wilde Security wouldn’t exist right now if I hadn’t built that empire. It’s the only thing keeping our heads above water.”
Greer paced over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and drank his beer in silence for several minutes. The neon lights from the street below played over his hard-planed face, highlighting the dark shadows under his eyes. Jude had once said Greer looked like their dad. And until that moment, Reece hadn’t really paid enough attention to see it. He did now, though. Those broad shoulders filling out a six foot, five inch frame, dark hair buzzed to the scalp and even darker eyes, a square-jawed face made of hard edges… Jesus, Greer was Dad’s clone and the realization tightened like a vise around Reece’s heart.
Twenty years later, and he still missed his parents every single hour of every single day.
“Would it be such a bad thing,” Greer murmured, “if we went under?”
Alarm had Reece sitting up straighter. “Are you kidding me? Cam left a good job with the police to work for us. Vaughn gave up any number of promising careers in the private sector, and Jude? What else would he do? They’re counting on us.”
“Yeah,” Greer said, and it seemed the weight of the entire world rested on that one word. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. Forget I said that. I’m tired.”
“I’ve noticed. Don’t you sleep anymore?”
“We’re not talking about me,” Greer said abruptly and jerked his thumb toward the bedroom. “This…thing between you and Shelby needs to stop.”
Reece tried to keep his features blank but had a feeling he’d already given himself away. Still, he tried to laugh it off. “Shelby? Are you kidding? No, it wasn’t her.”
Greer lifted a brow. “Word of advice, stay away from the poker tables. A blind man could read your tells.”
“Fuck.” Reece dropped his head into his hands. “Don’t say anything to Cam. Or Eva.”
“It’s not my place to, but I’m telling you now, end it.”
“There’s nothing to end.”
“Yeah, looks it.” Greer walked to the door, but stopped before opening it and glanced back. “Just remember Shelby’s…well, you’re playing with fire. And not a nice, controlled one either. She’s a wildfire and I’d hate to see you get burned, bro.”
Wildfire. That was an apt description of Shelby Bremer. Hot, oddly seductive, and dangerous as hell.
Reece brooded by himself for several minutes after Greer left and swilled the bourbon, watching the light glint off the amber liquid as it sloshed around inside the bottle. He’d regret drinking more. His head was fuzzy, skin warmed by the alcohol. He set the bottle aside and levered himself up to pace over to the windows, but a rattle from the hallway caught his attention, like someone was trying to get into his room.
Had Greer come back?
Or…Shelby?