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He was also a healthy, single, heterosexual man. When a face was feminine and wide-eyed and attached to a figure with subtle but undeniable curves, he gave her an extra moment of his attention.
The woman who had stepped back when he’d straightened from releasing the line this morning had immediately captured his attention. He had mentally tagged her as a visitor, but what kind? Tourists carried a lot of luggage and an air of excitement. Contract workers were focused on reporting for duty. Hikers wore better boots. People visiting friends or family were already connecting with the people waiting for them. They didn’t look apprehensive and tired and lost.
Bewildered.
He tried to remember if her features had carried any resemblance to his baby sister, but he’d been far more interested in cataloging the things that made her a woman. Her hair had been cut short, emphasizing her slender neck and accentuating her features, like the shape of her full lips and the way her cheekbones sat high over a strong, but delicate jaw. He’d noted the way her faded jeans and dark blue hoodie only hinted at the curves they covered. She hadn’t worn any makeup and her skin tone suggested mixed heritage.
As he’d been admiring all of that, she had lifted her gaze to meet his and her face had blanked with recognition.
Trystan was a midlist celebrity. That startled reaction happened fairly often, but now it occurred to him that she might have recognized him for another reason. Maybe she had known he was Storm’s brother. Maybe that’s why she had held his gaze even as he’d taken his seat in the bowrider while Reid had piloted it away from the wharf.
Maybe she’d been glad to see them leave.
While the prolonged stare had sharpened Trystan’s intrigue to a fine point. He hadn’t felt chemistry like that in alongtime. Maybe ever. He didn’t mind chatting politely to fans and taking a photo, but he never had an impulse to ask if they wanted to get a coffee. Or dinner. Or stay until breakfast.
All those urges had sifted through his thoughts in those brief moments. He winced now, realizing how far he’d let his mind travel in the space of a few seconds. If he hadn’t had that meeting to get to, he might have shot his shot. Why? He had learned his lessons with both playing the field and getting serious. The first caused a lot of tangled feelings around expectations and the future. The other risked getting caught in the net of a power-hungry fame chaser.
He pivoted his thoughts from that particular humiliation, glad his brothers had never heard about it, but he couldn’t ignore the hot embers of male interest still burning holes in his gut. Misguided interest.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t been Tiffany’s sister.
He knew that she was, though. He just knew it.
“What do you think she wants?” Logan asked as they docked.
“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Reid said through his teeth. “What she gets is three minutes to explain why the hell she didn’t call before showing up like this.”
Trystan was wondering the same thing. It felt like an ambush. They were all amped into protective mode as they secured the bowrider and made their way to the house.
“We’re out here,” Sophie called from the deck. She had her red-gold curls up in a frizzy ponytail and had left her coveralls at the marina, revealing her Raven’s Cove T-shirt over cycling shorts. She sounded way too relaxed. Sophie was a mother herself and Em’s best friend. She knew the stakes. Why was she being so cheerful andnice?
Trystan’s heart swerved as he stepped out of the kitchen behind his brothers, because even though he had expected it to be the same woman, he had hoped it wouldn’t be. It was, though.Damn it.And she was still cute as hell.
She’d taken off her hoodie to reveal a striped T-shirt that scooped low over her modest breasts and hugged her torso. Her super-short hair made her features look too big for her face, but maybe that was her reaction to seeing them file out like this. Her eyes were wide and winter gray, filled with apprehension as she looked from man to man tohim.
The way her mouth couldn’t seem to hang on to her smile made Trystan want to steady it with his finger. Or his lips.
Get a grip, man.
“Hi.” She cleared the rasp from her throat. “I’m Cloe, Tiffany’s sister.” She swiped her hand on her hip before she offered it to each of them.
“Reid.”
“Logan.”
“Trystan.” As he closed his fingers over her narrow palm, that same kick of sexual interest tightened his gut.
“What are you doing here?” Reid asked gruffly.
Trystan had the strongest urge to step between his brother and Cloe and press Reid back a step.
“To see Storm.” Cloe kept her chin up, trying to act confident, but her voice wasn’t steady, and she rolled her lips inward before adding in a wavering voice, “If that’s okay.”
“Why?” Reid folded his arms.
Trystan had never felt so torn. He couldn’t help aligning with his brothers, crossing his arms in a reflexive pose of no-fucking-chance. It was instinctive. Storm was a baby. Innocent and vulnerable and helpless. His job was to protect her.
He was also a student of animal behavior. He knew the signs of stress in any creature. Cloe’s eyes were bruised, her body quivering with subtle, sustained tension. She darted her gaze to each of them, almost as though she felt trapped. Ganged up on.
