Page 44 of Pin-up Girl

My phone chimed, and I pulled up the new text.

Clint: Dinner?

Me: Tonight? I’m in.

The exchange was basic. Not new for us. But today it sent butterflies flitting through me. I shouldn’t get worked up over it, because I didn’t need either him or Brodie thinking I belonged to them. Yeah, the sex was good—understatement of the century—but I wasn’t with them.

Brodie seemed intent on changing that, and the kinky side I saw of Clint last night? How did I not know that was there?

Because that wasn’t the kind of friendship we had.

Someone knocked on my front door. Did Sylvie forget her keys? Seemed unlikely.

It was probably Aubrey or Evie. No one else came by this time of the morning, which meant it didn’t matter that I was only wearing sleep shorts and a baggy T-shirt.

I opened the front door to a man I didn’t recognize. He might be cute, but that thin mustache with no beard, and the T-shirt with a silhouette of a naked woman on it made him look like kind of a douche.

Wariness flitted through me when he raked his gaze over me, lingering on my chest.

I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around myself and withdraw, as a thread of defiance insisted I wouldn’t show this person any weakness. “Can I help you?”

“Looking for Sylvie.”

So he wasn’t a boyfriend I’d forgotten I didn’t have. There was no way I was telling some random dude that I had any idea who he was talking about. “There’s no Sylvie here. Who are you?”

He pushed past me, shoving me aside with his shoulder as he strolled into my apartment. “Sylvie,” he called.

“Whoa. What the fuck?” Could I take him if I had to? “Get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Sylvie,” he shouted again,

What was this bullshit? Fury and panic surged inside me, blending into a disgusting nausea. Why did I put my phone down in the kitchen before I answered the door? I tucked my fear aside and let the anger slip out. “I don’t know who you are, but get out of my house, or I will call the police.”

He whirled in my direction. “Listen, Bitch”—

Brodie was there, stepping between us.

I had no idea where he’d come from, but I was grateful for it.

And Sebastian was here too? He approached the stranger. “You were asked to leave.” His voice was hard and his posture assertive.

After Sebastian lost his company, he’d been an EMT for a while. He had a number of stories about negotiating with drunk, high, or violent people on his calls. That experience showed now in his stance.

“I’m just looking for Sylvie.” The stranger didn’t back down.

“There’s no Sylvie here.” Sebastian’s voice was tight. He locked his hand around the man’s upper arm. “You need to leave.”

“Peter.” That was Sylvie.

Where did all these people come from?

My sister marched into the middle of the fray and smacked Sebastian on the wrist. “Sebastian. Let go of my fiancé.” Her expression shifted toward reserved, as if she’d just registered what she said. She frowned and stepped away, nudging Peter aside at the same time.

“Fiancé?” Sebastian asked at the same time I did.

“Got a surplus of those,” Brodie muttered quietly enough I doubted anyone but me heard.

Peter spun Sylvie to face him, and cupped her face between his hands. “I was looking for you, Lover.” He kissed her hard, but pulled away so quickly her head jerked. “These assholes assaulted me.”

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