Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(11)

In a manner of speaking. “No. I just . . .” She sucked in a silent breath when he stopped beside the bed, reached out, and cradled the top of her bumped head, rubbing gently. A touch that would have comforted her two minutes ago but now felt very intimate. “I brought tequila.”

He must have already noticed the filled shot glasses because he picked one up without looking and held it to her lips. “I would have gotten it for you, gimpy.”

Needing to buy herself some time before speaking, Abby tilted her head back and let him feed her the shot, another gesture that felt like . . . foreplay. Or what she’d always envisioned foreplay would feel like. She was grateful for the burn tracking down her esophagus because it distracted her, but as soon as the fire hit her belly, she wished she’d gone for iced tea instead. It only exacerbated the still-undefined problem. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Russell watched her with suspicion as he rounded the bed and climbed in beside her, muscles flexing in the television’s glow while he settled. Seriously, why hadn’t she known about his chest hair? Why did she like it so much? It made him seem so earthy and masculine. Older than the rest of their group.

“I give up. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Shoot. She performed an imaginary search for the remote. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo. Or chest hair. Who are you?”

Her joke eased the tension a little. Until he stacked his hands beneath his head and stretched out, like a big, contended animal, making her queen-size bed feel tiny. “I’m sure there are things I don’t know about you, too.”

She doubted there was anything underneath her clothes as exciting as tattoos and chest hair, but she declined to voice that opinion. Something else entirely popped out of her mouth instead. Something she wanted to lasso and drag back immediately into her big gob. “Why don’t you ever bring girls around, Russell?”

He sat up without warning, jostling her on the bed. “Hand me that shot of tequila.”

“What? Oh.” She reached over and handed him the glass. “Forget I asked about girls. It’s none of my business.”

For some reason, that made him laugh, but it sounded strained. His throat muscles slid up and down as he took the shot. “Would you like me to bring girls around?”

No. The word was yodeled inside her head, echoing like it might around the Swiss Alps. “If you brought a girl around, could we still be friends the way we are now?”

“No, Abby.” Had he moved closer? “Probably not.”

“Then, no,” she whispered.

Horrified she’d revealed a lack of desire to see Russell with someone else, confused she even felt that way, Abby busied herself pouring another round of shots. She felt Russell’s gaze linger on her turned head a moment before he picked up the remote and started the movie. God, she didn’t like feeling awkward around him. This was Russell. Maybe she had been affected by the explosion? They just needed a good subject change to get back on solid ground.

“How is the Tribeca job going?”

He looked kind of shocked that she’d remembered. “Really well. We should wrap up in a few weeks unless we get some unexpected rain.”

“So I should stop my morning rain-dancing sessions on the roof?”

His lips tilted. “Yeah. Knock that off.” Just when she thought they were back to normal, he started looking uncomfortable again. “Actually, we’re looking to expand soon. Take on more jobs.”

She handed him a shot. “Really? That’s great.”

“More jobs means more equipment, an actual office, a supply surplus. All that good stuff.” Down went his tequila, almost as if he needed liquid courage to finish what he wanted to say. “I have a meeting at the bank next week to discuss a business loan.”

Abby’s shot sat forgotten in her hand. Just how many new things was she going to learn about Russell tonight? His pride and excitement had always been visible when talking about new contracts. She’d assumed he was satisfied with the current trajectory of Hart Brothers but not actively looking to expand or make the company more lucrative even if there was occasionally unspoken tension when money came up in conversation. She felt guilty now for underestimating him. “Do you need help?” When his head snapped up, and he pinned her with a dark look, Abby realized he’d misinterpreted her offer and felt herself flush bright red. “N-not with money. I meant help preparing for the meeting.” She pressed a hand to her cheek, attempting to cool the heated skin. “Numbers are kind of my thing.”

“Right.” The tension eased from his big body. “I guess I could use the help, seeing how my brother would rather be filmed wearing spandex while completing an obstacle course.”

“Huh?”

“Exactly.” Russell stole the tequila from her hand and drained it. “Thanks for the offer. I bet you didn’t think I’d say yes, huh?” He leaned close and pressed their foreheads together. “That’s me trying not to be a dick. Please take note.”

“Note taken,” Abby murmured, wondering when her lungs had stopped working. Oh, brother. She needed some time to acclimate to this new consciousness of Russell. He’d never loomed so large or . . . smelled so good. Even with the scent of her soap wafting from his bare skin, his usual maleness was making it seriously difficult to pull away. But she had to.