Page 27 of Sharing Shane

Her hands stilled, and her teeth sunk into her lower lip. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“No intrusion,” Wyatt told her cheerfully. “If you don’t mind me invading your space, we can eat on the patio and enjoy the sunshine.”

“That sounds great, if you’re sure I’m not imposing.” Her gaze darted to Shane, who did his best to look like someone who a) genuinely wanted her to join them for lunch, and b) wasn’t trying to hide an erection behind the kitchen counter.

“You should eat,” he told her.

“Ignore him,” Wyatt advised, shooting a what the fuck, dude? look over his shoulder at Shane. “He’s grumpy when he’s hungry.”

“Is he hungry all the time?” Veronica wanted to know, and Wyatt laughed.

Shane managed a small smile. “Really. You should join us.”

Veronica hesitated a moment, her hazel eyes searching his face for Shane didn’t know what, but she finally nodded. “Okay. Do you mind if I take a quick shower first? I want to wash off the saltwater.”

“Take your time,” Wyatt told her. “I’ll wrangle Grumpy here into some clothes, and we can call room service. Do you know what you’d like?”

“A club sandwich would be great.” Her smile warmed slightly. “Thanks. I’ll be about twenty minutes or so.”

“Take your time,” Wyatt repeated and waited until she’d disappeared into the bathroom before rolling his eyes at Shane. “Way to go, Romeo.”

“Oh, bite me,” Shane muttered back, and since the coast was clear, stepped out from behind the counter and headed for his duffle bag.

“Tell me what you want for lunch, Mr. Smooth,” Wyatt said, picking up the phone on the kitchen wall.

“A burger,” Shane told him and dug clean clothes out of his bag.

Wyatt called in their lunch order, then wandered into the living room to flop onto the sofa. “’You should eat’,” he drawled mockingly and shook his head. “I don’t know how you ever manage to get laid.”

“I’m not trying to get laid,” Shane reminded him, fresh jeans in hand. “And I didn’t have any trouble getting into your bed.”

“Yeah, but grumpy and brooding works for me.” Wyatt reached out to toy with the edge of the rumpled sheet. “It means I get to do most of the talking.”

“You’d do that anyway,” Shane pointed out and hitched his jeans over his hips.

“True.” Wyatt wrinkled his nose. “You know, you’re at a beach resort. You can wear shorts.”

Shane looked down, frowned, and shucked the jeans off. He pulled out a pair of cargo shorts in faded olive green and tugged them on. “Better, Mom?”

“Marginally,” Wyatt allowed. He picked up the sheet and began folding it. “She’s cute, Shane.”

“I know.”

“Seriously cute. And built.”

“Keep it down, will you?”

“Relax, Grandpa. She’s not going to hear anything from the shower.”

“I mean it.” Shane yanked a white T-shirt over his head. “It’s rude.”

“You’re suddenly concerned with rude?”

Shane scowled at Wyatt. “Making her uncomfortable by talking about her tits would fall under the heading of asshole-ish, don’t you think?”

“Okay, fair point. Anyway, I only meant that I like her.”

“You don’t know her,” Shane pointed out.

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