As Hot as It Gets
Page 57
Jackson and Dylan were the only Team Fifteen members left in attendance, though Dylan’s presence was unexpected. The guy had barely left the house since Claire and Aidan’s return, so Jackson hadn’t expected to see him tonight.
Heck, he hadn’t expected to be here himself. All he’d wanted to do tonight was spend time with Mia, but the infuriating woman had sent him away.
And he was real ticked off about it, too. He understood why she felt the need to shelter her kid brother, but she was being naive about the entire situation. Danny was a teenage boy with a serious girlfriend—the two of them would’ve slept together sooner or later. At least Jackson had managed to drill the importance of safe sex into the kid’s head before he went out to do what he’d already been dead-set on doing.
No way was Jackson taking the blame for Danny’s decision, and he refused to beg and plead for Mia’s forgiveness. As far as he was concerned, she was the one who needed to apologize to him.
“So you’re the last two remaining bachelors, huh? Must suck losing your posse.”
Team Eight’s Max had to raise his voice to be heard over the loud house track pounding out of the speaker system. The flashes of strobe light illuminated his face and revealed the wry look in his blue eyes.
Jackson leaned against one of the floor-to-ceiling beams in the large, open-concept space and brought his beer to his lips. “Actually, Dylan’s taken,” he said.
“Very taken,” Dylan confirmed.
“So that leaves one,” Hunter remarked, glancing at Jackson. “You’re carrying the torch alone, huh?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I’m kinda seein’ someone too.”
Or at least he had been, up until an hour ago.
“And he was never much fun even when he was single,” Dylan piped up. “No threesomes or fourgies for Texas. He’s a total prude.”
As the other guys cracked up, Jackson didn’t miss the sly grin Dylan shot him. Fortunately, the other man chose not to bring up the voyeur role he’d played in Jackson’s living room, proving that he was smarter than he looked.
“So where are your girls tonight?” Lancelot spoke up.
“Claire’s around here somewhere,” Dylan responded.
“She is?” Jackson said in surprise. “I didn’t see her when I came in.”
“She made a beeline for the dance floor the second we got here.” Dylan grinned. “You know I don’t dance unless I’ve had at least four beers in me, so she gave me permission to come up here and get loaded first. But I’m sure she’ll track me down soon to drag me out there.”
Lancelot glanced at Jackson. “What about your lady?”
He slugged back some more Bud Light, hoping the alcohol might lift his spirits. It didn’t.
“She’s at home,” he admitted. “Actually, we got into an argument right before I got here.”
“Yeah? What’d you fight about?” Duke asked curiously.
With a deep exhale, Jackson quickly filled them in on everything that had gone down earlier. When he’d finished, he expected the Eighters to laugh and make light of the situation, but they surprised him by taking it very seriously.
“That’s bullshit,” Duke declared. “What the hell were you supposed to do, chain the kid up and forcibly keep him away from his girlfriend?”
“That’s what I said,” Jackson blurted out. “But she thinks I should’ve tried harder to talk him outta it.”
“Bullshit,” Max echoed. “You’re not the kid’s father. Not your responsibility.”
“Besides, you can’t stop a sixteen-year-old horndog from not acting on all that horniness.” Hunter’s dark eyes took on a rueful glimmer. “Dude, I’ve got a thirteen-year-old sister and I’m already dreading the day when some young punk tries to weasel his way into her panties. I’m prepared to shoot him down like a rabid dog.”
The resounding laughter was broken by a high-pitched whistle from Duke, whose blue eyes were suddenly focused on the dance floor below them.
“Sweet Jesus, check out that redhead. Dibs,” he said immediately.
Every pair of eyes followed Duke’s gaze, and when Jackson glimpsed the source of the SEAL’s admiration, he choked on a laugh.
It was Claire McKinley. And he had to admit, she looked dang sexy tonight. A skimpy cornflower-blue dress hugged her X-rated curves and barely covered her thighs, and the strappy black heels she wore added several inches to her petite frame. With her reddish-brown hair loose and cascading down her shoulders, and her face flushed from the heat of the bodies filling the dance floor, Claire was hands-down one of the hottest women in the club.
“Sorry, bro, but she’s mine.” Dylan casually sipped his beer.
“Sure about that?” Duke countered. “Because Mr. Dimples seems to be staking a claim.”
Sure enough, Aidan Rhodes had come up behind Claire and was grinding against her ass, his hands taking more than a few liberties as they moved up and down her curvy body. The strobe lights flashed, revealing Aidan’s handsome face as he leaned in to whisper something in Claire’s ear. She responded with a laugh, then spun around and kissed him.
The Eighters burst out laughing again, but Dylan remained unfazed.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” he said with the wave of his hand. “He’s mine, too.”
Four sets of eyebrows shot up.
Heck, he hadn’t expected to be here himself. All he’d wanted to do tonight was spend time with Mia, but the infuriating woman had sent him away.
And he was real ticked off about it, too. He understood why she felt the need to shelter her kid brother, but she was being naive about the entire situation. Danny was a teenage boy with a serious girlfriend—the two of them would’ve slept together sooner or later. At least Jackson had managed to drill the importance of safe sex into the kid’s head before he went out to do what he’d already been dead-set on doing.
No way was Jackson taking the blame for Danny’s decision, and he refused to beg and plead for Mia’s forgiveness. As far as he was concerned, she was the one who needed to apologize to him.
“So you’re the last two remaining bachelors, huh? Must suck losing your posse.”
Team Eight’s Max had to raise his voice to be heard over the loud house track pounding out of the speaker system. The flashes of strobe light illuminated his face and revealed the wry look in his blue eyes.
Jackson leaned against one of the floor-to-ceiling beams in the large, open-concept space and brought his beer to his lips. “Actually, Dylan’s taken,” he said.
“Very taken,” Dylan confirmed.
“So that leaves one,” Hunter remarked, glancing at Jackson. “You’re carrying the torch alone, huh?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I’m kinda seein’ someone too.”
Or at least he had been, up until an hour ago.
“And he was never much fun even when he was single,” Dylan piped up. “No threesomes or fourgies for Texas. He’s a total prude.”
As the other guys cracked up, Jackson didn’t miss the sly grin Dylan shot him. Fortunately, the other man chose not to bring up the voyeur role he’d played in Jackson’s living room, proving that he was smarter than he looked.
“So where are your girls tonight?” Lancelot spoke up.
“Claire’s around here somewhere,” Dylan responded.
“She is?” Jackson said in surprise. “I didn’t see her when I came in.”
“She made a beeline for the dance floor the second we got here.” Dylan grinned. “You know I don’t dance unless I’ve had at least four beers in me, so she gave me permission to come up here and get loaded first. But I’m sure she’ll track me down soon to drag me out there.”
Lancelot glanced at Jackson. “What about your lady?”
He slugged back some more Bud Light, hoping the alcohol might lift his spirits. It didn’t.
“She’s at home,” he admitted. “Actually, we got into an argument right before I got here.”
“Yeah? What’d you fight about?” Duke asked curiously.
With a deep exhale, Jackson quickly filled them in on everything that had gone down earlier. When he’d finished, he expected the Eighters to laugh and make light of the situation, but they surprised him by taking it very seriously.
“That’s bullshit,” Duke declared. “What the hell were you supposed to do, chain the kid up and forcibly keep him away from his girlfriend?”
“That’s what I said,” Jackson blurted out. “But she thinks I should’ve tried harder to talk him outta it.”
“Bullshit,” Max echoed. “You’re not the kid’s father. Not your responsibility.”
“Besides, you can’t stop a sixteen-year-old horndog from not acting on all that horniness.” Hunter’s dark eyes took on a rueful glimmer. “Dude, I’ve got a thirteen-year-old sister and I’m already dreading the day when some young punk tries to weasel his way into her panties. I’m prepared to shoot him down like a rabid dog.”
The resounding laughter was broken by a high-pitched whistle from Duke, whose blue eyes were suddenly focused on the dance floor below them.
“Sweet Jesus, check out that redhead. Dibs,” he said immediately.
Every pair of eyes followed Duke’s gaze, and when Jackson glimpsed the source of the SEAL’s admiration, he choked on a laugh.
It was Claire McKinley. And he had to admit, she looked dang sexy tonight. A skimpy cornflower-blue dress hugged her X-rated curves and barely covered her thighs, and the strappy black heels she wore added several inches to her petite frame. With her reddish-brown hair loose and cascading down her shoulders, and her face flushed from the heat of the bodies filling the dance floor, Claire was hands-down one of the hottest women in the club.
“Sorry, bro, but she’s mine.” Dylan casually sipped his beer.
“Sure about that?” Duke countered. “Because Mr. Dimples seems to be staking a claim.”
Sure enough, Aidan Rhodes had come up behind Claire and was grinding against her ass, his hands taking more than a few liberties as they moved up and down her curvy body. The strobe lights flashed, revealing Aidan’s handsome face as he leaned in to whisper something in Claire’s ear. She responded with a laugh, then spun around and kissed him.
The Eighters burst out laughing again, but Dylan remained unfazed.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” he said with the wave of his hand. “He’s mine, too.”
Four sets of eyebrows shot up.
