Page 164 of Wild Card

“I can’t wear any of my bathing suits. And possibly my sports bras.”

“You can wear them with me, which is all that matters.”

She bites her bottom lip, struggling to stay irritated, and my cock hardens again. I drop a quick kiss to her forehead and shut off my shower. “Take your time. I’ll handle your dad.”

She tips up and runs her lips along my neck. “I still love you, even if you belong in the Stone Age.”

I grunt, squeezing her ass before getting out. She watches me intently as I dry and wrap the towel around my waist. “Babe, you keep gawking at me like that and your dad will have to wait outside for a while.”

“I can’t help it, you’re a work of art.”

“Princess—”

“Sorry! I’ll ogle you later when we’re not facing another issue with my family.” She turns back to the stream.

I dress and head to the living room, collecting her clothes and straightening the sofa. A few minutes later, the system alerts that a car is approaching. Both dogs bolt into the room at the sound of newcomers.

I open the door as Sterling pulls into the drive, noticing someone in the passenger seat.

My body tightens at who steps out of the car.

“What the fuck?”

“I tried to warn you,” Sterling defends.

“Is he here?” Willow calls behind me and I turn to shield her from view.

A little tension eases when I see her in one of my MNPD shirts that swallows her and a pair of loose sleep shorts. Her wet hair is tied on top of her head, her face free of make-up except for the shimmer of lip gloss. Fucking gorgeous and completely comfortable.

Which ratchets up my anger at what she’s about to see.

“He’s here and he’s not alone.”

She stops dead. “Please don’t tell me Chase is with him. I’m not ready to face him yet.”

“Wish it was fucking Chase.”

Her eyes crinkle and mouth hitches.

Footsteps sound behind me and I step to the side, watching her face pale and transform into shock.

“Hello, Willow,” Stacy greets with a shaky voice.

The system chimes again, this time Ford and Rowan driving up.

Well, shit. This just got interesting.

24

WILLOW

Rowan slipsa glass of wine in front of me, the encouragement of the gesture offering little assurance.

“Stacy, would you like a glass of wine?”

Her polite offer is laced with implication. Mom has been a client at Rendezvous for years, but she is a visitor in Rowan’s home, while I belong here.

“That would be lovely.”

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