Page 64 of Filthy Player

I had no way to respond to that.

Nothing. This man was the biggest ninny I’d ever met.

“Beaux,” I said, warning him.

He stepped back. Wise choice. “I have sauvignon blanc and pinot noir. What would you prefer?”

“Red, please.” A rush of breath fell from my lips, shoving my shoulders down. “And thank you.”

“No need. I grew up with Shannon. I know how to calm down psycho.”

He skedaddled quickly, giving me no time to retort and by the time he returned, I was working on calming down.

I still drank half the glass in one large gulp.

***

I had nothing to worry about. Damn Beaux for not only being a sexy beast in bed but for always being right. Well, mostly always right.

I was sure he’d been wrong a time or two at some point in his life.

Still, Shannon and Oliver showed up at Beaux’s place approximately five seconds after I finished my first glass of wine and they came with three large plastic bags of carryout.

She’d dropped the bags in her hand to her feet when she saw me and threw herself at me so hard, I went back a step. “I’m so glad to meet you,” she’d exclaimed. She shook me like a rag doll and pulled back, grinning. “I was going to come to your suite today but I didn’t want to scare you. But I insisted we have dinner tonight since they’re gone next week again. Oliver and Beaux have told me so much about you. Any girl who’s willing to dump a bucket of ice on my brother is a-okay in my book.”

“Uh,” I ‘d said, my gaze flying to Beaux.

“See?” he’d said. “I know how to deal with psycho.”

“Shut your pie-hole,” Shannon had snapped. “I’m being friendly.”

“You’re scaring the bejeezus out of her, babe,” Oliver had said. He’d pulled his fiancée into his hold and with his free hand, held it out to me. “Nice to see you again, Paige. Your dad like the game today?”

“Well, you won, so yeah.”

“Glad I could make that happen for him.”

“You?” Beaux had cried out, aghast. “You made it happen?”

“Again,” Oliver had said, ushering Shannon into the kitchen, not looking at Beaux. “I’m so glad you and I have come to an agreement on things.”

“Smug little son of a bitch,” he growled. His face was twisted with such confused aggravation I burst out laughing.

Like sheep, we followed them into the kitchen, Beaux wrapping his arm around my lower back as he guided me there. Shannon had made herself at home, pulling out plates and silverware, while Oliver unloaded the carry out containers.

They lined everything up, we filled our plates, Beaux gave Shannon and me more wine while he and Oliver stuck to water, and then we sat down at his dining table and ate.

And talked.

And laughed.

It took me about twenty-two point two seconds to not only stop being nervous around Shannon but to absolutely fall in love with her.

She was a bit loud, a lot crazy, insanely in love with her fiancé, and fiercely protective of her brother. That came about when she started bitching about comments he’d already received on Instagram.

Oliver had turned to her and asked, “Why don’t you get this worked up about people saying shit about me?”

“Please,” she’d winked, “you’re a grown man. You can handle yourself.”

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