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“So it was a business meeting you had to move?”
“No. It was one woman.” I hold up a hand to stave off questions I don’t want to answer. “And before you go to the trouble of pretending you’re interested in my love life, it was one and done, and I’m probably never going to see her again.”
That part is hopefully a lie, but hopefully it will spare Ian the awkwardness of wondering if he needs to ask more questions and feign interest in my life.
But I must go too far, because he asks, “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“What?”
“That thing that I do. Where I’m an annoying asshole without realizing it.”
I make a show of glancing at my watch. “Well, you’ve only been here for 10 minutes so far and you already realized it, so maybe we’re making progress.”
“You know,” he grumbles. “You’re not such a joy to be around yourself.”
“Nonsense. I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.” Then I ask, “You gonna tell me why you’re here?”
Except Ian—who always gets straight to the point … once he’s decided it’s something he’s going to talk about out loud—continues to stare off into space. He’s got a leg propped on his knee and he’s jiggling that knee like one of those toy bugs that “walks” by vibrating its way across a surface.
After living with him all through college, I’m used to observing lost-in-thought Ian. I just didn’t expect him this morning.
“If you don’t wanna talk about it–”
“I met Savannah.”
“Oh. I see.”
And just like that, I can see the shit storm on the horizon. The one I absolutely should have seen coming, but somehow missed.
Because the Savannah that Ian just met is the personal chef I hired for him. And she is also Trinity’s sister.
I say nothing, but wait for Ian to continue. Sure, every internal alarm bell I have is ringing like it’s noon in a clock tower, but there’s a chance this conversation means nothing.
Right.
Because Ian is known for overreacting.
Still, I hold my breath and wait.
Finally, he says, “You should’ve told me how beautiful she is.”
Okay. Wow.
That was not what I expected him to say.
“Honestly?” I lean forward to study Ian. “I didn’t know you would notice she’s beautiful.”
“She’s fucking gorgeous. Those eyes of hers…”
He trails off, unwilling or unable to finish his thought. About her eyes.
Ian fucking Donavan is lost in thought about a woman’s eyes.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
About a year ago, Ian went through a bad break up that got a lot of news coverage. He had been dating an up-and-coming movie starlet named Ava Grayson. Ava’s widely regarded as one of the most beautiful women in the world. They lived together for six months.
And I never once saw him at a loss for words about her.
