Page 33 of Turn Me On
He lifts a brow as he stands in front of the counter. “I notice you didn’t dispute that you demanded I show up at the game.”
I stare dead-eyed at him. “I’m refuting your points one at a time. Regarding the alleged demand—you like baseball, and the seats were awesome.” Then with my best courtroom swagger, I add, “As you can see, your honor, Bryan was pleased to attend.”
“But ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant did not, in fact, dispute that the invitation was also a demand,” he says.
He’s teasing, maybe because he’s started to ferret out why I wanted company. But I’m not ready to tackle that topic, so I leave his last comment alone and take another drink.
Bryan strides across the kitchen, yanks open the fridge door grandly, then sets the carton on the shelf.
“Thank you,” I say, sincerely. Bryan’s a good houseguest, and I’m happy to help him as he settles in Los Angeles. “How’s everything going with the new biz?”
“Good. Really good. And crazy busy, hence the oat milk delay,” he says.
Bryan renovates beautiful old homes, and he built a best-in-class rep with his one-man shop in New York. Recently, he moved to Los Angeles to join forces with a firm and establish roots in the market here.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say. “I’m psyched to see what you do on the West Coast.”
“Thanks, me too.” He leans against the counter, meeting my eyes with curiosity in his. “So, you and Zane? When did that start up?”
He’s a goddamn mind reader.
“What do you mean?” I ask, buying time.
“You heard me, buddy,” he says, giving me sympathy now instead of a hard time. He asks because he cares.
I sigh, then turn away to rinse my cup and set it in the dishwasher. “What gave it away?” I ask roughly. Denial is pointless. I just can’t believe he figured it out so quickly.
“Oh, just, you know, the way he curled his hand around your shoulder when you introduced us,” he says.
If he only knew how sexual Zane was when he touched me later in the dark of the cabana.
“Also, the way he ribbed you,” Bryan adds. “He was so on point. It’s like he was dying to poke fun at you in front of me.”
I fight off a smile. “And that made it obvious?” I ask, turning around, genuinely curious.
“A little. It’s like he’s…proud of you? Know what I mean? He just seems like the kind of guy who’s a little—”
“Possessive,” I say quietly, finishing for him.
“Yeah. But in a good way,” he adds.
But if others noticed what Bryan saw, that could be a problem. “Is it obvious to everyone?”
“I don’t know,” he says, turning the question around with a friendly shrug. “Is it, Maddox?”
Zane was cautious at the dinner with Vance when we met. He played it professional in front of Gunnar last night. He only showed his handin front of Bryan. Like Zane told me in the car last night—he wants my friend to know the score.
“No,” I say, settling that brief debate. “And nothing is going on with us. Not really. But I guess he wants you to know there’s some kind of vibe with us because he sees you as…safe.”
Bryan smiles. “And healsowants someone to know he seesyouas his.”
A velvety warmth spreads through me at Bryan’s conclusion, but I can’t give in to it. “Probably, but nothing more is going to happen,” I say, resolute. Last night was already too dangerous. “I can’t take the chance.”
“I hear ya,” he says, but then his brow knits with concern. “Just want to make sure you’re not into hishe’s minevibe because it’s the opposite of Wesley.”
I flinch at the mention of my ex but keep an impassive face. “Not even remotely related,” I say, tensely.
Bryan scrubs a hand over his jaw, nodding a few times. “I get it. And you know I’m just looking out for you. Can’t help it—I’m an older brother to a T. Ask Milo about when he met his girlfriend,” he says, mentioning his little brother with anI can’t help itsmile.