Page 16 of Why Not Us?

I nod.

“That’s not the point, Spencer,” Derek says, and I glare at him. “Adalie has a little crush.”

Lis flops into the third chair at the table. “No! Really?”

“No, I don’t.” But even as I say the words, the kiss flashes through my mind. AndI’dinstigated it. Sort of.

Lis and Spencer ignore me and turn to Derek.

“Who?” Lis asks.

“Nate Sinclair,” Derek answers promptly.

“He was the brother with the beard and the tattoos, right?” Spencer asks, handing Lis a coffee and leaning against the counter.

She nudges my arm with her hand. “Get it, girl. Tall guys, am I right?”

“I do not have a crush,” I protest. “It’s nothing.”

“Adalie,” Derek says, pinning me with a look. “Are you or are you not attracted to him?”

I lift my chin and fluff my curls. “That’s none of your business.”

Lis snickers.

“And did he or did he not drive you home last night?”

I take a sip of my tea. “He gave me a ride… on his motorcycle.”

Lis smacks the table, then looks at Spencer.

“I’m not learning to drive a motorcycle,” he says. She pouts for a second and turns back to me.

“What’s going on?” Vic asks when she joins the group.

“Adalie is in love,” Lis says.

My mouth drops open. “When did this go from me being attracted to someone, to having a crush, to being in love? It’s nothing. He’s attractive. He gave me a ride home—”

“On his motorcycle,” Derek cuts in.

“—there is nothing going on.” My face flushes as I remember the kiss again, the way his tongue swept into my mouth like he owned it, the way his beard had been so soft against my skin.

“Sweetie,” Lis says as she stands with her coffee. “That blush says otherwise.” She kisses Spencer, hands him Cerberus’ leash, then leaves the lounge to head into the kitchen.

Spencer winks at me and follows behind Lis, going to his office. Vic takes his place at the counter, pouring a coffee.

“So who are we talking about?” she asks, not looking at me, sounding for all the world like she doesn’t care. Of course, she does.

Derek looks at me, waiting for me to answer the question this time.

“Nate Sinclair,” I say, resigned.

“Hm,” she says, stirring her coffee. “I would have guessed the other brother. Taylor?”

“Taylor is the other brother,” I confirm. And she’s right. Taylor is much more my type than Nate. He’s a little softer, a little more ready to smile. But that just makes the few times Nate smiles that much more special.

Ugh. What am I thinking?

---