Page 58 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

Those simple words hit her harder than she expected. Her throat tightened, and she had to fight to keep the tears at bay. She hadn’t anticipated feeling so vulnerable in the middle of a crowded restaurant, but here she was, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It took everything in her to hold back the tears, but she managed, and she felt a surge of pride in herself for that.

Before she could thank him for his kindness, Johnathan’s voice broke through, pulling her out of the emotional moment she was sharing with Angelo. “Do me a favor, Taylor.”

Both Angelo and Allison turned to look at him, momentarily jolted out of their bubble. Johnathan’s expression was a mixture of irritation and protectiveness.

“Don’t call my sister that in front of me ever again.”

Allison blinked, confused at first. Then it clicked.Sweet girl. Angelo had called her that before, on That NightTM—as she had started referring to their one-night-stand mentally—and now, recalling it, she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Angelo chuckled, a low, warm sound that only deepened the color on her face. Allison could feel the heat in her cheeksintensifying, her embarrassment growing until she was sure she was as red as a tomato.

Johnathan just rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with their little moment. But despite his annoyance, Allison caught a hint of relief in his gaze. He may not have fully trusted Angelo yet, but at least he knew his sister was in good hands.

Fifteen

ALLISON

The trio had spent considerable time figuring out how they should approach breaking the news to Allison’s father. The plan still needed some fine-tuning, but after much deliberation, they finally reached a decision.

First, they’d meet with the rest of her brothers—which could either go semi-smoothly, like today, or it could go horribly wrong. After the brothers were informed, they’d finally confront their dad.

Which would definitely end terribly.

At least I won’t be alone this time, Allison thought.

They were outside the restaurant, all standing in the parking lot beside their own cars, when Allison called out, “Johnny!” Her brother turned to face her, dirty blonde strands waving around at the movement, one eyebrow raised in question. “We’re finding out the sex at the next appointment.”

He visibly stilled, and so did she, heart pounding with nerves.

Though she knew Johnathan was nothing like their father, she was always waiting for the moment he’d change, when the other shoe would drop and so would her heart. But her doubts vanished as her brother—a man as wild as a grizzly bear—broke into a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with joy and the rarest of dimples showing up.

“Make it a surprise for me, Shrimp,” he called out. Then he simply waved at her, nodded once to Angelo—who Allison had forgotten was behind her, watching their exchange—and got into his sleek, gray Audi, driving off.

Allison was momentarily stunned. Too much had happened in too little time, and her mind was too cluttered for her to drive, as it usually was. Anxiety was her constant companion; no issue ever felt truly resolved, and her brain never paused, running a thousand different scenarios until she slowly grew insane. Even when she lay in bed, trying to sleep, it took hours before she could finally drift into unconsciousness—if it happened at all.

“Allison.”

The second she heard his voice, her mind magically cleared. She wasn’t sure when it started or how Angelo gained such power over her, but the fuzz that plagued her thoughts simply disappeared.

She heard the gravel beneath his feet as he moved, and then he was right behind her—not touching, but close enough that she could feel his warmth, his hot breath,him.

Allison turned hesitantly, finally taking a moment to really look at him. Earlier, she hadn’t had the chance, but now, standing in front of him, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

He was dressed casually—or as casually as Angelo Taylor could manage. A black overcoat draped over his shoulders, partially hiding a fitted, white button-up shirt—which was far from weather-appropriate—that clung to his arms and chest, emphasizing his muscular build. His black dress pants, which she was certain were designer, concealed a weapon she had become intimately familiar with just three months ago. His chocolate curls framed his forehead, but thankfully, she could still see his captivating eyes.

In the distance, faint Christmas music played—fitting for mid-December—but it felt more like it was mocking her for her careful observation.

As if anyone in my position could resist checking this man out.

I dare you to try, invisible laughing audience!

“Allison,” he repeated, his voice different now—deep, primal, and dripping with desire that she felt down to her bones.

She tried to respond, but her tongue felt too heavy. After clearing her throat, she managed, “I’m fine.” But her voice sounded husky, almost needy to her own ears.

She blamed her hormones.

Angelo didn’t step back. He stood there, eyes roaming over her face, his breathing heavy.

---