Getting Rowdy
Page 65
Somehow, when things ended, as she knew they would, she’d just find a way to deal with it. “All right, then. If you’re sure you want to stay, we may as well go on in instead of giving the neighbors a show.”
His narrowed gaze abruptly scanned the area, and he smirked. “The houses are all so far apart, I seriously doubt anyone can see us.” He did release her, though, taking her hand instead and starting them up the drive.
Smiling, Avery let him tug her along. She liked the way his large hand engulfed hers, how his long, strong legs covered so much ground so easily.
The way his worn jeans hugged that sexy backside of his.
The man was totally put together, and tonight she’d get to explore him—naked—head to toe. Regardless of what he said, she’d show care for his back. But there were all sorts of creative positions they could use.
She wanted to try them all.
At the top of the driveway, surrounded by manicured landscaping, Rowdy stopped and stared at the silver BMW parked there. Avery went cold from the inside out. She knew that damned car and—
“Well, hello, you two.”
Eyes flaring, she twisted to face the front entryway...and there stood Fisher Holloway. Residual fear tried to emerge, but she fought it back. Today, now, she had nothing to fear.
She had Rowdy Yates with her.
That meant she had the upper hand.
She’d spent a very long time gaining her independence, building up walls against the hurt and putting the past behind her.
No way in hell would she let her uncertainty show. Not to this man.
She narrowed her eyes, and with venomous sarcasm said, “Fisher. What a surprise to see you here.”
* * *
ROWDY NO LONGER had the urge to leave. Hell, no. He wanted to stay, and he wanted to get answers.
Like for starters, why was the very car that had been following them parked front and center in her stepfather’s driveway? Had Meyer lied? Had he been tailing them? And if so, why?
When Rowdy turned to see who had welcomed them, he gave thanks to Mother Nature for the physical gift of his height and bulk. The clown smiling at Avery like a long-lost lover wasn’t a slouch. In fact, he looked like a damned linebacker and stood right at six feet.
But Rowdy was bigger and taller, and that gave him the advantage of smiling down on the other man.
No jeans for this bozo. No, he wore creased charcoal slacks and leather shoes and some designer-style polo. Rowdy spotted a chunky gold ring on his hand and a gold chain around his neck.
He fought to keep his lip from curling.
Avery scooted closer, and that one small telltale gesture, more than anything else, sharpened his senses.
The other dude stopped smiling at Avery long enough to come down the walkway and extend his hand.
“Hello. You must be Avery’s...friend who Meyer told us about.”
Rowdy took the hand, amused when the man tried to tighten his grip. “Rowdy Yates. Avery works for me.” He squeezed back, and Fisher’s smile slipped.
“Fisher Holloway,” he said around a near grimace. “I’m a close family friend and a business associate.”
Rowdy let him off the hook, releasing his hand and nodding toward the silver BMW. “Is that your car?”
Fisher shoved his hands in his pockets. “One of them, yes. She’s about ready for a trade-in, though. Why, you looking for a new ride?”
“No, and I couldn’t afford that anyway. It’s nice.”
Fisher bent his knees and laughed. “And what? You can’t afford nice?”
“Not that kind of nice, no.”
Avery suddenly shoved herself in front of him. The move was so absurd—her stance so obviously protective—that it left Rowdy chagrined.
“That’s not what he meant, Fisher, and you know it.”
Such a snarling tone from Avery. On his behalf? Had he misunderstood her nervousness?
“No offense intended, honey.” Fisher smiled at Rowdy in a knowing, man-to-man way. “I was just jesting.”
Locking his jaw, Rowdy took Avery’s upper arms, lifted her and physically set her to his side. “It was accurate all the same. I can’t afford a car like that.” Where the hell did this guy get off calling Avery “honey”? Did they have a past?
Was it even in the past?
Still riled, Avery said, “Rowdy owns his own business and he’s putting all his assets into that.”
Assets? What assets? If he sold everything he owned, he still wouldn’t be able to afford that car.
“A bar, right?” Fisher shared a smug smile. “Meyer said it was really...quaint.”
“Then he was trying to be polite.” Rowdy took Avery’s hand in a bid to control her absurdly defensive tendencies. “I’m sure you’ve never been there, have you, Fisher?”
“Afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Bullshit. He’d scoped out the place, so why lie about it? “You sure? Could’ve sworn I saw that exact car just recently.”
Avery didn’t hear the accusation, but Fisher got it loud and clear. “I doubt mine is the only silver BMW on the road.”
No, but it was the only one with those exact plates. Rowdy shrugged. “A car like that stands out in my neighborhood.”
“Hmm. In my neighborhood, it’s not that different from every other car.”
Score one for the dirtbag. Rowdy let it go before Avery did catch on. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin her reunion with her mom. “Should we go in? I know Avery is anxious to see her mother.”
His narrowed gaze abruptly scanned the area, and he smirked. “The houses are all so far apart, I seriously doubt anyone can see us.” He did release her, though, taking her hand instead and starting them up the drive.
Smiling, Avery let him tug her along. She liked the way his large hand engulfed hers, how his long, strong legs covered so much ground so easily.
The way his worn jeans hugged that sexy backside of his.
The man was totally put together, and tonight she’d get to explore him—naked—head to toe. Regardless of what he said, she’d show care for his back. But there were all sorts of creative positions they could use.
She wanted to try them all.
At the top of the driveway, surrounded by manicured landscaping, Rowdy stopped and stared at the silver BMW parked there. Avery went cold from the inside out. She knew that damned car and—
“Well, hello, you two.”
Eyes flaring, she twisted to face the front entryway...and there stood Fisher Holloway. Residual fear tried to emerge, but she fought it back. Today, now, she had nothing to fear.
She had Rowdy Yates with her.
That meant she had the upper hand.
She’d spent a very long time gaining her independence, building up walls against the hurt and putting the past behind her.
No way in hell would she let her uncertainty show. Not to this man.
She narrowed her eyes, and with venomous sarcasm said, “Fisher. What a surprise to see you here.”
* * *
ROWDY NO LONGER had the urge to leave. Hell, no. He wanted to stay, and he wanted to get answers.
Like for starters, why was the very car that had been following them parked front and center in her stepfather’s driveway? Had Meyer lied? Had he been tailing them? And if so, why?
When Rowdy turned to see who had welcomed them, he gave thanks to Mother Nature for the physical gift of his height and bulk. The clown smiling at Avery like a long-lost lover wasn’t a slouch. In fact, he looked like a damned linebacker and stood right at six feet.
But Rowdy was bigger and taller, and that gave him the advantage of smiling down on the other man.
No jeans for this bozo. No, he wore creased charcoal slacks and leather shoes and some designer-style polo. Rowdy spotted a chunky gold ring on his hand and a gold chain around his neck.
He fought to keep his lip from curling.
Avery scooted closer, and that one small telltale gesture, more than anything else, sharpened his senses.
The other dude stopped smiling at Avery long enough to come down the walkway and extend his hand.
“Hello. You must be Avery’s...friend who Meyer told us about.”
Rowdy took the hand, amused when the man tried to tighten his grip. “Rowdy Yates. Avery works for me.” He squeezed back, and Fisher’s smile slipped.
“Fisher Holloway,” he said around a near grimace. “I’m a close family friend and a business associate.”
Rowdy let him off the hook, releasing his hand and nodding toward the silver BMW. “Is that your car?”
Fisher shoved his hands in his pockets. “One of them, yes. She’s about ready for a trade-in, though. Why, you looking for a new ride?”
“No, and I couldn’t afford that anyway. It’s nice.”
Fisher bent his knees and laughed. “And what? You can’t afford nice?”
“Not that kind of nice, no.”
Avery suddenly shoved herself in front of him. The move was so absurd—her stance so obviously protective—that it left Rowdy chagrined.
“That’s not what he meant, Fisher, and you know it.”
Such a snarling tone from Avery. On his behalf? Had he misunderstood her nervousness?
“No offense intended, honey.” Fisher smiled at Rowdy in a knowing, man-to-man way. “I was just jesting.”
Locking his jaw, Rowdy took Avery’s upper arms, lifted her and physically set her to his side. “It was accurate all the same. I can’t afford a car like that.” Where the hell did this guy get off calling Avery “honey”? Did they have a past?
Was it even in the past?
Still riled, Avery said, “Rowdy owns his own business and he’s putting all his assets into that.”
Assets? What assets? If he sold everything he owned, he still wouldn’t be able to afford that car.
“A bar, right?” Fisher shared a smug smile. “Meyer said it was really...quaint.”
“Then he was trying to be polite.” Rowdy took Avery’s hand in a bid to control her absurdly defensive tendencies. “I’m sure you’ve never been there, have you, Fisher?”
“Afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Bullshit. He’d scoped out the place, so why lie about it? “You sure? Could’ve sworn I saw that exact car just recently.”
Avery didn’t hear the accusation, but Fisher got it loud and clear. “I doubt mine is the only silver BMW on the road.”
No, but it was the only one with those exact plates. Rowdy shrugged. “A car like that stands out in my neighborhood.”
“Hmm. In my neighborhood, it’s not that different from every other car.”
Score one for the dirtbag. Rowdy let it go before Avery did catch on. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin her reunion with her mom. “Should we go in? I know Avery is anxious to see her mother.”
