Page 69 of Beneath Your Beautiful

I swatted her butt. “Get to work before I lock the door and take you right here. Right now.”

“I’ll meet you back here at the end of the night,” she said, with a wink. Then she sashayed out of the office and left me wondering how I’d make it through the next nine hours with a raging hard-on. She was starting to feel like an addiction. Eden was my crack. Which got me thinking about Connor. Which got me out of the office and behind the bar where I could stay busy and not have to think about anything.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Eden

Icaught a glimpse of desert camouflage making its slow and torturous way down the escalator in the Pittsburgh airport. He was behind two massive guys wearing baseball jerseys and ball caps, slurping oversized drinks. Sawyer stepped off the escalator and gave me a big grin that reminded me of the boy he used to be. I rushed over and wrapped my arms around him, practically knocking him over. His arms came around my waist to steady us both.

“Whoa. Easy, girl. You’d think I’d been to war or something.”

“Shut up. That’s not even funny.”

I held him—all six feet, two inches of solid muscle—too tightly and for too long. He hugged me back without complaining or pulling away. When I was sure he was real and solid, I released him and gave him a little slug on the shoulder.

“I should have brought balloons and a marching band,” I teased.

“I’m sure as hell glad you didn’t. But you could have brought the cheerleaders. Give me a proper welcome.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

I snorted. “You’re such a horndog.”

He laughed but didn’t bother denying it.

“It’s good to have you home.” I looked into his green eyes, so much like my own, but I didn’t like what I saw in them.

“Good to be here,” he said, but I knew he was lying. Home didn’t feel like home to him anymore.

We made our way to the baggage claim and stopped in front of the carousel to wait for his bag.

“So…I met someone,” I said, because I hadn’t filled him in on my love life. Or anyone in my family. “He’s part owner of the bar where I work and he’s waiting for us outside. He’s staying with us for a few days.”

Sawyer chuckled. “Does he know he’s getting Garrett’s old room?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m twenty-two and I live on my own. Dad won’t make us sleep in separate rooms.” He totally would. Whenever Luke was over, I had to keep my bedroom door open if we were in there. As usual, my dad turned a blind eye whenever Sawyer and Garrett had girls in the house. Yet another example of the inequality between the sexes, I’d always argued. It had gotten me exactly nowhere.

“Not another preppy, entitled asshole, I hope.”

“Not even close.” I cleared my throat like I was making a major announcement. “His name is…Killian Vincent.”

I glanced at him to see if the name rang a bell. It did. Sawyer was an MMA fan. So was Garrett. So was my dad. I hadn’t told them Killian’s last name yet, so it would be a surprise. Yay!

“Killian ‘The Kill’ Vincent? As in, UFC superstar Killian Vincent?” It was funny. Sawyer looked a little star struck. Very few people impressed Sawyer but by the look on his face, I guess Killian’s fighting prowess was impressive.

The Kill? Ugh. “Uh, yeah, that’s the one.”

“Well, damn,” Sawyer said, and then he started laughing. A huge belly laugh. It was a good sound, but I felt like I was the brunt of a joke I hadn’t heard.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, planting my hands on my hips.

He shook his head, still laughing too hard to answer.

“You’re an idiot.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, waiting for him to pull himself together.

“Does ‘The Kill’ know he’s dating Chicken Little?”

“Don’t call him ‘The Kill,’” I muttered. “He’s not a fighter anymore.”

His humor faded. “I know. I watched that fight. He was good though. One of the best.”