Page 20 of Beat of Love
“Yourbrain addled now?”
“My business,” she hissed, “has nothing to do with you.”
“If it involves my brother, it does.” He moved closer and snarled, “If you even think of messing things up between him and Marielle, think again.”
She leaned in, so close their noses almost touched. “I have no intention of ‘messing things up’ for Sullivan. And just so we are crystal clear, you” — she jabbed a finger in his chest — “stay the hell out of my life.”
Straightening, she tossed her head back, eyes no longer icy. Rather, they blazed with censure. “You’ve enough trouble of your own to sort through.”
*
Brandy-Lyn was still steaming when she stomped onto the veranda. Rafferty Lawson’s return was on everyone’s lips. She’d heard multiple versions of his past, all varying degrees of appalling. What an ass. She yanked off her boots. Like she needed the added aggravation in her life. Sullivan’s twin had rubbed her the wrong way twenty years ago, and absolutely nothing had changed since. And it was not, one hundred percentnot,sexual attraction as Jackie had claimed.
But holy shit, the man was hot.
Sleeveless tank, sheen of perspiration, all those sinewy muscles.
And thighs — thick and strong — perfectly showcased in the silky shorts.
And his …
Ugh, Brandy. Get ahold of yourself, woman.
Not noticing his dancing package.
There are no waltzes with Rafferty Lawson in your future.
The man was trouble.
T.r.o.u.b.l.e.
And your ex-boyfriend-current-business-partner’s identical brother, which renders him off limits.
Off. Limits.
She pushed into the mudroom and placed her boots beside the door. “Too soon, Dad,” she heard Preston say from the kitchen.
Dammit. She had forgotten. Richard had called her earlier (he was the reason she was caught off guard rushing from the stables) and told her of his intention to come to Bulwark to see the kids. She had told him to hold off informing them until she’d figured out how they felt. As always, he’d ignored her advice.
“Whatever,” Preston said, followed by athunk.
Brandy walked into the kitchen. Preston stood behind the counter, his back to her. The girls were on the other side of the breakfast counter facing her.
Olivia’s eyes met hers. “Dad’s coming this weekend.”
“I know.”
“I told him it’s too soon, Mom,” Preston added.
“Y’all have to face him sometime.”
“I never want to see the slimeball again,” Amelia declared.
“Don’t be a bitch!” Olivia shouted.
Brandy poured a cup of coffee.
Amelia scraped her stool back, aiming a glare at her sister. “You can find your own way to school today.”
