Page 88 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

PRESENT DAY

If Allison were being completely honest with herself, she had no idea what she’d been thinking.

It was ten o’clock on a Sunday morning—an utterly unforgivable hour for anything serious—exactly a week after The Car Incident™. With her mind stuck in an endless loop starring Angelo freaking Taylor, she desperately needed a distraction. So, in a moment of questionable judgment, she decided it was timeto let her other two brothers in on the secret. After all, since Johnathan had taken the news relatively calmly, how bad could it be? Right?

Nearly two months had passed since that fateful lunch with Johnathan. While she trusted him to keep her safe, trusting him to keep her secrets from their brothers was another story entirely. Those three were like the CIA when it came to her—complete with dossiers, round-the-clock surveillance, and an unnerving ability to know everything. They were nuts.

So, she’d invited Frederick and Leopold over for coffee, dragging Angelo into the mix because, well, there was no way she was doing this alone.

Not that she and Angelo had spoken much since The Car Incident™. Before that little disaster, their conversations had been warming up nicely, just as she’d told Amira. But now? Thanks to the abrupt way things ended, they were back to texting like awkward co-workers—cold, impersonal, and maybe a little too fond of the ellipsis.

Not for lack of effort on Angelo’s part, though. She had to give him credit—he was nothing if not persistent.

The day after the incident, he’d bombarded her with apologetic texts. When she hadn’t responded, he even threatened to call the cops if she didn’t reply, forcing her to finally answer with a curt, “Please stop apologizing. I’m fine.” It was all she could manage without actually engaging in a real conversation. What she really wanted was to forget the whole mess and just move on.

If only my brain could cooperate.

Last night, Allison had sent him a no-nonsense text: “Come to my place tomorrow morning at 10.” And that was it—no explanation, no emoji, not even a period to soften the blow. She knew she was being harsh, but she couldn’t help it. She was drowning in her own panic, and instead of dealing with it, shewas projecting all that confusion onto him. His presence had stirred up a whirlwind of feelings she wasn’t ready to face, so she did what any rational person would do—left him hanging with a cryptic text and a whole lot of questions.

She’d thought she had everything perfectly timed, right down to the minute everyone would arrive at her apartment.

But of course, she’d miscalculated.

Instead of Angelo arriving fashionably late, as planned, he showed up at the exact same time as FrederickandLeopold, who, naturally, arrived earlier than directed.

Because of course, that’s just how her fucked up luck worked.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is he doing here, Allison Pink Lockwood?”

Allison winced. Nothing made her cringe quite like hearing her full name being weaponized, especially when it was delivered at full volume. As much as she adored the color pink, it lost a bit of its charm when her brother screamed it like a curse word.

“Inside voices, Freddie. And could you please stop with the middle-naming? We’re all adults here,” she shot back, her voice tinged with irritation.

It’s way too early for this shit.

“Oh, don’t get snappy with me, Ali. Answer the damn question,” Frederick snapped.

They’d barely made it through the front door before Frederick had taken one look at Angelo and exploded, yelling at the top of his lungs about what the hell this ‘dirtbag’ was doing there. It was safe to say Frederick wasn’t a fan.

What really surprised Allison was how all her brothers seemed to instantly recognize Angelo, despite never having met him. Meanwhile, she’d had a very up-close-and-personal introduction to him and somehow hadn’t recognized him during their first meeting months ago. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“Maybe if you calm your prickly ass down, I can answer your question, Frederick,” Allison retorted, her patience wearing thin. Her caffeine levels had been critically low the past few days, and while she didn’t exactly blame her daughter for that, she wasn’t exactly thrilled either. To top it all off, she was well into her pregnancy, which meant new clothes—ugly clothes, because apparently, the fashion industry didn’t care if pregnant women wanted to look both cuteandcomfortable.

As much as Allison loved sweater dresses, she was determined not to live in them as the weather warmed up. And leggings? Absolutely not. She had a deep, unwavering hatred for them—she wouldn’t even consider them as an option.

I’ll have to employ Ami for a new wardrobe,she mused, sighing inwardly. That woman was a fashion genius and, frankly, Allison needed all the help she could get.

She rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the headache brewing behind her eyes. She was not in the mood to let a bunch of testosterone-filled idiots tie her nerves into a knot.

“Can you just come sit down like a human being? I promise I’ll explain,” she said, shooting a pointed look at Frederick, who was still fuming in the doorway.

Angelo and Leopold, bless them, hadn’t uttered a single word during this entire debacle, and she was grateful for their restraint. It was nice to know at least two men in the room knew how to act like adults.

As she led the group into the living room, she felt a familiar heat crawl up her spine—the other reason she was in a foul mood. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew Angelo’s gaze was roaming over her. She could practically feel his eyes lingering on her face, the swell of her breasts, and the curve of her growing belly, on full display beneath her crop-top sweater. His gaze burned into her, leaving a trail of awareness in its wake, and she hated it—or at least, she tried to convince herself she did.

They settled into the living room, though the tension was so thick you could slice it with a butter knife. Angelo, ever the gentleman, chose the seat right beside her on the couch—close enough that their thighs brushed. A crazy, intrusive thought flashed through her mind: she wanted him to grab her thigh, to see his large hand splayed possessively over her curves.

And she wanted him to do it in front of her brothers.

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