“You think your brother was right to end it, huh?” she said slowly. “You don’t think it would have worked out between us.”
Dylan went quiet for a moment. “Yes,” he finally replied. “I don’t think it would’ve worked.”
“You might be right about that.” Claire paused, reluctant, then went on. “My friend Natasha said the same thing. She thinks that deep down, I knew it too.”
“Did you?” Dylan asked roughly.
She hesitated again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I’m upset, but…not as upset as I thought I’d be.”
Before he could question the response, she staggered to her feet and turned to Aidan. “I think I want that sandwich now. Do you mind if I rummage around in your kitchen?”
“Poor girl,” Aidan murmured as the two men watched Claire’s face disappear behind the refrigerator door. “I still can’t believe Chris recruited you to cancel his wedding.”
Dylan frowned. “It definitely wasn’t his finest moment.”
“It was a dick move.”
There was no arguing that. Hell, even Dylan’s mother agreed that Chris had done a seriously crappy thing today. When Dylan had called her earlier to apologize, Shanna had still been horrified by her eldest son’s behavior, but fortunately, she hadn’t been angry at her youngest for taking off too. She insisted Dylan had done the right thing by getting Claire out of town—apparently everyone they knew was whispering about the wedding and stirring up a gossip storm of massive proportions.
A loud thump sounded from the kitchen, followed by a cheerful yell from Claire. “No worries! Just dropped the mayo container. It’s plastic so it didn’t break!”
The glum tone she’d used only moments ago was gone, the delight in her voice unmistakable.
Dylan tried very hard not to grin. He had to admit, drunk Claire was a lot more fun than sober Claire.
Next to him, Aidan didn’t bother hiding his grin, which ignited the cycle of irritation all over again.
Aidan was attracted to Claire.
Dylan could see it plain as day, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. It had nothing to do with jealousy, either. He and Aidan brought women home all the time, so watching his roommate f**k someone else wasn’t anything new or scandalous.
No, it was Aidan’s attraction to this woman that bugged him. He didn’t want Claire fooling Aidan the way she’d fooled Chris, making him believe she was someone special, someone sweet and wonderful, when in reality she was a materialistic snob who liked to belittle women who weren’t as career-oriented as she was.
Chillax, buddy.
Realizing his chest had tightened with resentment, he inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm himself, then glanced over at his roommate.
Okay, enough with the roommate bullshit, he told himself.
His lover.
Aidan Rhodes was his lover.
The memory of Aidan’s lips stretched wide around his c**k sent a bolt of lust straight to Dylan’s groin. Christ, he really had needed that. He’d left for San Francisco yesterday morning and was back in San Diego less than forty-eight hours later, but he felt like he’d been gone for months. Sitting through that rehearsal dinner last night, getting all gussied up this morning, informing the bride her groom was gone…shit like that took its toll on a man.
Needless to say, he was happy to be home, and to him, home was San Diego. He may have been born and raised in Marin County, but he’d always felt so out of place there. The people in his neighborhood were uber-conservative, the kids from his high school preppy as hell, and that kind of stifling, judgmental environment was definitely not ideal for a guy who loved c**k as much as he loved pu**y.
“Aw, he’s still mad at me.”
Claire’s voice jerked Dylan out of a train of thought that had been going nowhere fast.
“I’m not mad,” he muttered. “I’m mostly annoyed, and kinda tired. It’s been a long day.”
“No kidding.” She flopped down in the recliner and balanced her plate on her thighs, then picked up her sandwich and took a big bite.
His gaze instantly gravitated to her mouth, rosy red and shaped like a cupid’s bow. Each time he looked at her pouty lips, he imagined them wrapped around a man’s dick. Those were definitely blowjob lips, all right.
As usual, Dylan found himself checking out the rest of her, and as usual, his c**k liked the view. Claire McKinley was so f**king hot it was actually kind of infuriating. She’d removed all the little white flowers from her hair and now those reddish-brown waves cascaded over one shoulder, glinting like burnished copper in the light spilling down from the ceiling fixture. And that dress. Christ, couldn’t she put something else on? The material was so thin he could see every curve and indentation of her body, and her braless state pretty much ensured that he and Aidan wouldn’t be tearing their gazes from those puckered ni**les anytime soon.
With that smoking-hot body and the alcohol-induced blush on her cheeks, she made such a tempting picture that Dylan’s mouth actually watered, and he hastily had to remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be thinking about screwing her.
One—she was his brother’s ex-fiancée.
Two—he didn’t like her.
Three…okay, well, he couldn’t think of a third off the top of his head, but the first two reasons were more than enough.
“I’m tired too,” Claire said between mouthfuls. “But at least I have the next three weeks off. I can’t remember the last time I had one week off, let alone three.”