The tick of the powder room clock registered less than a minute before the brunette bit down her bottom lip and said, “I like Brek a lot. He’s a good man.”
Like him? Hilary’s choice of words surprised Taylor. Like was appropriate for friends, dogs, flavors of ice cream, and a good book. Not for the man Hilary was about to marry.
Taylor had no desire to discuss Brek.
Hilary, on the other hand, did. “I, um, know this is awkward, but I need your advice,” she softly continued. “Even though Brek never talks about you, I know you were once engaged. Tell me how to make him happy. I don’t want to make the mistakes you did.”
Taylor’s mistakes. Don’t leave him at the altar and you’ll be fine. That didn’t sound quite right. But it was all Taylor had to offer.
Her time with Brek had been sacred. She’d screwed up royally. Admitting this to Hilary would open wounds and leave more scars.
“Peroxide, please,” was all she could manage.
Hilary was slow to hand her the disinfectant, so Taylor reached for the bottle herself. Forgoing cotton balls, she poured the peroxide straight onto her foot. The disinfectant bubbled, turned white, and her toes started bleeding again. She grabbed a hand towel and blotted her foot.
There was a shuffle of feet, and Sloan McCaffrey appeared in the doorway. “Glass is all cleaned up,” he told Taylor.
“We came to check on you,” Eve put in, as both she and Addie peered around Sloan.
Taylor welcomed their arrival. “My foot is fine,” she assured her grandmother. “Go back to your guests.”
Addie nodded. “I’ll be close by.”
Eve, however, stayed.
Sloan crossed to Taylor, hunkering down beside the stool. He ran one finger over the ball of her foot, then across her toes.
“I’m still feeling glass,” Taylor told him.
“Let’s take a closer look. Magnifying glass,” Sloan requested.
Hilary dropped it on his palm.
Sloan made three attempts at removing the glass before Taylor stopped him. “You’re pushing the glass in, not picking it out.” She took back the tweezers.
Sloan apologized. “I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart.”
Hilary was watching them closely. “You two a couple?”
Sloan looked from Taylor to Eve. His grin curved slowly. “Eve’s the only sister who’s seen my tattoo.”
Hilary looked confused. “I thought you were with Taylor.”
“Enough of me for both of them,” answered Sloan.
Taylor rolled her eyes, and Eve pulled a face.
Hilary, on the other hand, contemplated his remark. “I’d heard the players brand themselves.”
“Adds to our mystique,” Sloan explained. “I have the number three; Brek has ‘Strike Zone.’ ”
Hilary fingered a brass button on her red blazer. “So I’ve heard.”
Heard, not seen? Taylor went still—so still she wondered if her heart had stopped beating. Was it possible Hilary and Brek had yet to sleep together?
Hilary and Brek had Hilary a virgin?
Brek celibate?
Hard to comprehend. Brek was a physical man. He’d wanted Taylor as often and as badly as she’d wanted him. They’d been as active in sex as in sports. Dusk to dawn, they’d welcomed the sun with a smile on their faces.
“Ah, there you are, Hilary.” Stuart Tate had located the mayor’s daughter. “Your father requests your presence. He’d like you to meet his senior constituents.”
“Excuse me,” Hilary said as she stepped around Sloan.
Tate eased back to let her pass as well. He then pressed his palm to her lower back and followed her out.
Sloan nodded toward the door once Hilary and Stuart had moved beyond earshot. “They’re pretty chummy.”
“They’re working together on the campaign,” Taylor suggested.
“Goes beyond work.” Sloan stood up. He hitched his hip on the powder room vanity and crossed his arms over his chest. “Try sexual familiarity.”
Startled, Taylor lost her grip and she tweezed her little toe, slicing skin. She winced. “Jacy speaks highly of Hilary. The woman’s sweet and reliable and dedicated to Brek.”
“No dedication there.”
Taylor’s chest compressed and her breath locked in her throat. “You’re wrong, Sloan.”
“I’m calling it like I see it.”
“Prove it,” Eve challenged.
“I caught the look in Hilary’s eyes when she first saw Stu. She’s seen the man naked.”
Eve’s eyes went wide. “You got all this from a look?”
“Her look and his palm,” Sloan stated. “A man’s hand on a woman’s ass is the universal sign they’re lovers.”
“You need glasses.”
“I saw what I saw, Eve.” He stood firm. “I’m sure Stu removed his hand by the time they joined the others.”
“Brek’s not blind.” Taylor exhaled. “He’d know if Stuart was making a move on his fiancée.”
Sloan shrugged. “A man sees what he wants to see. It all depends how much Stryke’s into his woman.”
“Maybe you’re reading more into the situation than is warranted,” Eve said, looking unconvinced.
“Maybe I am; maybe I’m not.”
Silence hung heavy as Eve and Sloan faced off, glaring at each other. Taylor took in their confrontation and found it amusing. Their dislike sparked like loose wires—wires that, if ever connected, would shock them both into tomorrow.
Sloan’s observations left Taylor thinking. She refused to believe Hilary was cheating on Stryke. Surely Sloan had misinterpreted Hilary’s look and Stuart’s palm on her back.
It had to be a mistake.
“Take care of your foot.” Eve patted Taylor on the shoulder. “I’ll be back to check on you.”
Taylor nodded and returned to work on her foot.
“Taylor.” Sloan said her name so softly, she wasn’t certain she’d heard him. Glancing up, she found he’d gone all serious on her. “I wouldn’t have come on so strong had I known you cared for Stryke.”
“You flattered me with your attention,” she said, easing his tension with a smile. “Brek lost interest long ago.”
“You’re a thrill seeker and a total turn-on.”