Page 94 of Fire Fight
I shook my head, knowing I needed to keep my wits about me where this man was concerned.
And damn was I grateful I had as the next twenty minutes played out.
Once he’d poured himself a healthy serving of the Cabernet, he grabbed the plates of food and inclined his head to the table.
“Come eat.”
“I’m fine here.”
Like hell was I sitting at that table with him like this was some sort of friendly meal.
As far as I was concerned, Trey was an interloper, and interlopers didn’t get cordiality.
“Fine,” he said tersely, his unflappable attitude was starting to wear thin.
Unceremoniously, he dropped the plate in front of me, and I grinned at the shift in his mood. Maybe I could piss him off enough to make him leave.
Not interested in carrying on a conversation or even acknowledging his presence, I dug into the food.
I barely silenced the moan that wanted to escape me.
First Crew, then Birdie, and now Trey? Was there anyone in this family who was a bad cook?
“You can say it,” he chuckled softly. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
I swallowed the mouthful and spared him a quick side eye. “It’s…fine.”
“Keep fighting it,” he said, and I saw his mouth stretch into a grin in my periphery. “But you know that’s the best pasta puttanesca you’ve ever had.”
Not bothering to respond, I shoved another forkful into my mouth.
Yeah, equally as good as the first.
And maybe I’d been teetering on the edge of hangry, because the more I ate, using the thick, crusty slice of homemade garlic bread to mop up any lingering sauce on my plate, I almost softened toward Trey.
At the very least, I came to tolerate him enough to not be outright hostile when he asked me questions. Unlike with Crew, though, I kept my cards close, giving him clipped answers.
For the entire meal, he tried and failed to engage me in a meaningful conversation. Honestly, I should’ve bolted to my room the second the last mouthful passed through my lips, but I remained rooted in place.
Which gave Trey the perfect opening to do something really fucking stupid.
He put his hands on me.
One of his massive palms slid up my thigh, pinky arcing dangerously close to the apex, and I scrambled to my feet, knocking over the stool in my desperation to get away from him.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“C’mon, Aspen,” he grinned. “We’re all alone in this big house with nothing else to do. Why not pass the time getting lost in each other?”
“Because I want nothing to do with you,” I spat.
“No, you want my brother. But newsflash, Aspen. You’ve been living in this house with him for over a month and he hasn’t made a pass at you.” I nearly made a noise of protest, but Iwasn’t giving Trey the satisfaction of being right. He smirked. “You don’t know my brother like I do. He’s too fucking noble to cross that line with you because he sees it as taking advantage of a woman in a vulnerable state. And he’s spent his entire career protecting women and removing them from such situations.”
Was that really how Crew saw me? A legitimate damsel in distress who couldn’t take care of herself?
No. I shook my head, throwing off Trey’s words before they could settle and burrow beneath my skin.
Trey may think he knew his brother, but he didn’t—not really.
