Page 5 of Embody

“What the hell is she talking about and why’s it funny?” I ask.

“Outstanding in her field? Like, she’s the best at what she does…andwe’veliterallyleft her standing out in the middle of a field,” Brynn explains, giggling again.

“Got it. Funny,” I chuckle.

“No, you don’t.” Brynn rolls her eyes. “But I do. I get her, so Igether. Meaning, I’m keeping her and you’re not gonna mess it up for me. I know she’s hot and I don’t blame you for being tempted, but you don’t even see the most beautiful things about her, and you’re not the type to take the time with a womantosee them. So please, I’m begging you, for me,” she clasps her hands in front of her like she’s about to pray. “Go pick out another hot girl at the party and work your magic there. Leave Bellamy alone.”

What’s a man to do? Brynn is naive in the ways of the primal male—she has no idea that by telling us we “can’t” have something, it only makes us want that something so much more. On an immeasurable, pound-on-our-chest and claim that shit level.

Now when I look at Bellamy, my baser instincts kick in, honed directly on the prohibited prey.

My eyes track her every move, missing nothing, even the smallest flutter of her eyelashes. My nostrils pick up her scent, soft and feminine. And her breathing, I swear I can hear each inhale and exhale from here.

Dammit!

“You have two minutes before Ryder and I run away together!” Bellamy’s shouting interrupts my thoughts.

“Sorry, we’re coming, swear,” Brynn answers her then turns her pleading eyes to me once more. “Promise me, JT. Promise you won’t turn your charms on my only real friend.”

I should agree, hug her and go find a hottie at the party. That’s what a good big brother would do. But I have two, huge biological factors preventing it from happening. One, the dominant DNA of Dane Kendrick courses through my veins. And like my father, not only do I get what I want, but I don’t take well to being told I can’t have it. And secondly, I’m somewhat of a mama’s boy, and Laney Jo Kendrick always has a twist up her sleeve—ready and able to make you eat the same bullshit you tried to feed her,when the timing suits her.

“How’d you get here?” I ask, brushing past the promise she wants, that I can’t give.

“Ryder drove us. Why?” Her voice wobbles on the last word—she’s worried—as she should be. She’s the daughter of the same two masterminds as me, so she knows a counter-attack is in the works.

“He’s gonna take Bellamy home and you’re gonna ride with me. This discussion is not over. You go arrange that and I’ll meet you at my car, right over there.” I pull out my keys and turn on the headlights. “Hurry up, sister dear.”

 

 

“YOU CANNOT BEserious!” she screams, banging a fist on my dashboard. “Why are you being such a pain about this? You met her for all of five minutes!”

Brynn’s the baby, used to getting what she wants—even though I will admit, she doesn’t ask for much or play the card too often. She’s usually pretty cool…but tonight, she’s pissed me off.

“This isn’t just about Bellamy anymore,” I half-lie, ‘cause itismostly about her smokin’ hot friend with the clever mouth. “This is about you and your opinion of me. You seem to be under the impression that I’m some dog who doesn’t respect women outside of my family,and is in danger of crotch rot!”

“Aren’t you?” she challenges without pause.

“No, Brynn, I’m not. And you’re seriously pissing me the fuck off for thinking,and saying, that shit. First of all, since you’re so concerned, let me assure you, my dick is fine. I have a drug test and full physical every six months at the office. Dad requires it for insurance. And with all the women who had a hand in raising me, that you listed off yourselfand are amazing, how could you even doubt for one second my respect for women?”

“I don’t, not really,” she admits glumly. “It’s just, you never go out with the same girl more than once or twice and you leave most of them heartbroken. Bellamy won’t sleep with you in two dates, not her style. Then you’ll lose interest, making it awkward for her and I to stay friends.”

“That’s it,” I snap, swerving the car into the nearest parking lot.

 

Me: Stopping for food. Brynn is with me, safe.

 

“Who are you texting? And why the detour?” she asks.

“Dad. Told him we’re late because we stopped for food. You’re welcome. And I pulled over so I can look at you while I set youpin-fucking-straighton a few things.”

 

Dad: We have food at home. Brynn, inside these walls, 30 minutes. Thank you for letting me know.

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