Page 43 of Under an Endless Moon

“I’m glad.” Her voice was full of support.

“Don’t get too comfortable, payback is coming, bestie. You’re the one who’s going to have to figure out a way to distract my brother once I tell him I’m moving out.”

“Impossible.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you can work your magic.” I let the innuendo wind its way into my voice.

“I might have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Clearly, you do.” I chuckled before sincerity weaved into my voice. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, talk to you tomorrow.”

I ended the call and let my phone drop to my lap. I sat there for a couple seconds, absorbing the events of the day.

Finally, I exhaled the tension, stood, and headed back out into the main room.

I wondered if there would ever be a time in my life when I didn’t lose my breath when I looked at him.

Otto was in the kitchen, larger than life, stirring something in a pot.

A pillar in the middle of the room.

Powerful to the extreme.

As if he could single-handedly hold up the roof.

Conquer every threat.

When he felt me hovering on the elevated platform, he tossed me one of his sexy, casual grins from the side. “How’d it go?”

“That was Charleigh. I didn’t talk to River.”

Amusement tugged the edge of his mouth up higher. “Chicken.”

“I am not a chicken,” I scoffed. Okay, I was totally, one hundred percent a chicken.

I might have been twenty-five, but River had never stopped treating me as if I was twelve. It was going to take a lot to break free of that.

Maybe I’d just write my brother a note.

Then he could tear it to shreds and toss it in the air and stomp around like the hothead he was, blow off some of his overprotective steam, then we could have a rational conversation about me moving out.

“You sure about that?” Otto asked as I angled down the three steps.

I headed for where I’d left my drink on the island, and I picked it up and took a sip of the spicy concoction.

“What are you talking about? You know I’m as confident as theycome.” I popped out a hip, and Otto turned from where he was at the stove.

Mischief ridged those lips that never failed to make my thighs quake, and he started edging for me with a gleam in his eye.

I could already see what was written all over him, and a vat of excitement dumped into my stomach as he approached.

Still, I was backing away, ready to play, setting my drink aside and pushing my hands out in front of me. “Don’t you dare, Otto Hudson.”

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