Sin With Me

26

I ask, “Do you guys know if A.J. and Chloe are gonna make it? I texted him this morning but he didn’t get back to me.”

Kat reluctantly extricates herself from Nico’s greedy embrace. Smiling now, she says, “Chloe wanted to come but A.J. put the kibosh on it. Said it was too soon for the baby to be at a party.”

“Too soon!” I repeat in disbelief. “She’s the offspring of a rock star! She’s got parties in her blood! She had a party in her room ten minutes after she was born! Jesus, he’s turning into an old woman. Next thing you know he’ll be knitting baby booties and hitting up the local bingo parlor.”

Nico says, “He’s a father now. Your priorities shift.” He looks at Kat. “Personally I can’t wait for it to happen to me.”

Then he tucks Kat underneath his arm and gives her a smile that leaves her starry-eyed.

Uncomfortable, I look away again. “Dude.”

Nico chuckles. “You just wait, brother. One of these days you’re gonna meet someone that blows your whole fuckin’ world apart, and then you’ll get what I’m talkin’ about.”

Then, as if it were scripted in a f*****g romance movie, a flash of red appears in my peripheral vision.

There stands Grace at the open glass patio doors of my new house, her hands lifted to shade her eyes from the glare of the sun as she scans the backyard. My eyes drink her in. Those long legs and those dangerous curves and that amazing hair waving past her shoulders, shiny and thick, the color of persimmons. And that sexy little dress she’s wearing—

Oh my God. The f*****g dress!

I start to laugh, because really there’s nothing else to do.

“Why are you laughing?” asks Kat.

“Inside joke,” I say, my gaze still on Grace. “Your friend’s a goddamn firecracker, you know that?”

“Actually,” Kat answers quietly, “I think she might be the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

I’m just about to ask her what she means when a black dude the size of a skyscraper appears by Grace’s side and slings a giant arm around her shoulders.

His head is shaved. His shoulders are like boulders. His clothes—a white dress shirt and tan slacks—were obviously custom made to fit his enormous frame. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and a confident, easy smile, like he’s used to having all eyes on him, and loves it.

Enter the competition.

“Whoa,” says Nico. “Is that Grace’s flavor of the month?”

“Marcus,” Kat affirms. “He’s a talent agent at CAA. Reps a bunch of huge names. Cruise, Damon, Statham. Specializes in action heroes.”

“He’s very . . . large.” Nico coughs into his hand.

Large doesn’t even cover it. The dude is massive. He gives A.J. a run for his money in the size department.

I glance down at myself. I’m no shrimp, and I’ve got pretty good muscle definition from all the surfing I do, but if I had to arm wrestle this Marcus character there’s a strong chance I’d end up in the emergency room with a team of surgeons trying to reattach the bloody stump of my biceps to my shoulder.

And if his arms are that big . . .

Fuck.

The angry toddler inside my head starts howling and breaking s**t in frustration.

Nico bursts out laughing. “I’d pay a million bucks for a picture of your face right now, my friend!”

“Suck it, Nyx,” I growl, my hungry gaze still on Grace.

Kat suggests, “Maybe he has small feet. You know, because if he has small feet . . .”

Nico and I look at her with our brows raised. She shrugs. “Just trying to be helpful.”

Grace catches my eye again. She waves, says something to Marcus, and the two of them start to walk down the winding stone pathway toward us on the lower lawn.

As they get closer, Nico drily observes, “Yeah, that theory just went out the window.”

We all look at Marcus’s feet, clad in a pair of seriously expensive-looking brown leather dress shoes. And holy—

In a low, impressed voice, Kat says, “Oh my. Do you think he could use those as skis?”

I hate my f*****g life.

“Hi, kids!” says Grace brightly, stopping beside us. She gives Kat and Nico hugs, and then turns to look at me. With a totally serene, unruffled expression, she says sweetly, “Kong.”

“Slick,” I reply, holding her gaze. “Nice dress.”

It’s sleeveless, short enough to show off her long, bare legs, with a belted waist and little gold buttons all the way down the front. But that’s not what makes it so interesting. What makes it so interesting is the color.

It’s red.

And green.

It’s f*****g polka dot. Big green and red polka dots on a background of white. If she’s trying to drive me completely insane, it’s working.

Grace looks down at herself. “Oh, this old thing?” When she looks up at me, her smile is brilliant. “Well, I couldn’t decide what to wear, so . . .”

“So she dressed up in Christmas colors,” says the giant, Marcus, in this smooth baritone that would make the late, great Barry White gnash his teeth in jealousy.

The guy is huge, good-looking, dresses well, has enormous feet, a job that chicks probably think is super glamorous, and a voice I bet Nico would trade his Ferrari collection for, and I’m standing here in flip-flops and wet hair like I’m the f*****g pool boy.

“Hi, I’m Brody.” I extend my hand to Marcus.

Because f**k if I’m gonna be intimidated by him—she wore polka dots.

“Marcus. Nice to meet you.”