The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(54)

“Mason sent me a text. Asked me what the fuck we were up to.” Spencer broke the comfortable silence close to forty-five minutes later, and Daff, who had been on the verge of dozing off, jerked to attention. Wiping some drool from her mouth and hoping she hadn’t gotten any on his chest.

“Oh? What’d you say?” she asked, her voice slurred.

“Told him we had no idea but once we figured it out it would be none of his fucking business anyway.” Daff snorted and pushed her hair out of her face to stare at him. Sadly, she couldn’t see much past the stubbled ledge of his firm jaw.

“And what did he say to that?”

“Just said ‘okay’ and left it at that.”

“I wish it were that simple with Daisy.”

He graced her with another of his gorgeous smiles. “I told him to pass the sentiment along to her, and he said ‘sure.’ I think you’ll be fine.”

Daff giggled and scooted up to kiss him lightly.

“My hero.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Sam Brand readjusted his hold on the duffel bag strap and lifted his hand to knock on Mason Carlisle’s front door. Judging by number of cars parked outside and the sound of voices and laughter coming from the interior, they were having some kind of gathering. Not ideal. His intention had been to surprise Mason and his bride-to-be, not ruin a dinner party. He shook off the uncertainty. His cab had left and there was really nothing to do but knock. He was here—no going back now.

The knocking set off a frenzy of barking and he sighed. Yeah . . . this was going to ruin whatever party the couple were hosting. The door swung open, and the unmistakable figure of Mason Carlisle stood silhouetted in the doorway. The guy said nothing for a moment, then huffed in surprise.

“Fuck me! Brand? What the hell are you doing here, man? We weren’t expecting to see you till the stag party.”

“That’s just a couple of days away, mate. I finished up some business early and figured, I’m in the neighborhood, might as well pop in. I don’t mean to intrude on your party, though.”

His buddy engulfed him in a quick, manly hug and then stepped back.

“Define ‘neighborhood,’” Mason invited.

“I was in Mozambique,” Sam informed him drily. “Just a hop, skip, and a jump away from here.”

“One thousand three hundred kilometers, give or take, is nothing, really.” Mason shrugged. “Come on in, man. We’re just having Daisy’s sisters and Spencer over for dinner. Nothing fancy, just a family gathering. The ladies are working on some last-minute wedding stuff, and Spencer and I were starting to feel a little outnumbered. I can’t wait for you to meet my Daisy.”

“Are her sisters hot? Single?”

“Hands off, bro. No flirting and no fucking.”

“You know how to ruin a good time, mate,” Sam grumbled as he followed Mason’s broad back into the house. He absently petted each dog, a big yellow Lab and a small, poofy ball of some kind. Mason led him into a dining room, and four pairs of eyes gawked at him curiously. He instantly reconned the room, noticing about a dozen different things before his eyes halted and went back to her.

Well, hello, Miss Priss. Despite the two other interesting-looking women present, this beautiful buttoned-down little thing immediately snagged and held his attention. She looked like a church organist, a librarian, or a strict teacher. Everything about her was neat and prim and proper. Not a hair out of place, and Sam immediately wanted to ruffle her perfect plumage. Everybody else was blatantly staring at him, but she dropped her eyes and totally rebuffed him.

Well, then . . . challenge accepted.

Why was he staring at her? Lia refused to meet the stranger’s eyes. He was so overt about it, too. It was embarrassing. She sneaked another peek, and thankfully his attention was diverted by Mason, who was proudly introducing Daisy to him.

Compared to Mason and Spencer, this man wasn’t the best-looking guy in the room by far. He wasn’t the tallest or the biggest, either. He looked to be about five foot eleven and had a spare build that complemented the faded jeans and black Henley he was wearing. Short, spiky dirty-blond hair and a rugged face that looked like it had been out in the sun and wind too long. He had piercing ice-blue eyes with expansive laugh lines radiating from the outer corners. She wasn’t sure if they were indeed caused by laughter or from squinting into the bright glare of the sun for long hours at a time. Add that to the deeply tanned hue of his skin and you had a man who was made for the outdoors. He had a presence about him that instantly made the room feel claustrophobic.

Lia watched him hug Daisy, lifting her off her feet until she squealed. He put her down and turned to the rest of the table again to acknowledge them with a grin.

“Spencer, Lia, Daff, this is my friend Sam Brand,” Mason told the room at large, and Lia’s eyes drifted shut for a moment.

Of course he was Sam Brand. Her partner for the wedding. He was supposed to meet them in Plettenberg Bay the day after tomorrow for the mother of all bachelor-slash-ette parties, as Daff had dubbed it. What was he doing here? They had just started dinner, and Daisy quickly arranged a setting for him directly opposite Lia. He accepted the seat with a charming smile, his cheeks creasing attractively.

Something about him got Lia’s back up and put her on immediate alert. So when he focused those intense eyes on her, she pretended not to notice his interest, focusing her attention on her napkin instead.

“So I didn’t quite catch your name,” he said. His voice had an appealing raspy undertone to it. It sounded like he’d damaged his vocal cords at some point in the past and had been left with this husky rasp.

She pretended not to hear him, instead picking up her fork and resuming her meal. Not that she could taste anything—it was like all her senses were being hijacked by the man across the table, and she definitely did not appreciate that at all.

Daff watched her sister, wondering what the hell was up with her. Lia, who always had a smile and kind word for everybody, was positively frosty to the new addition at the table. Daff was seated beside Sam and opposite Spencer, who looked distracted. He was distracted a lot lately. They spent most nights together and he was affectionate in bed, a considerate and gentle lover. But since she’d finished working at the boutique a few weeks ago, their lunches had stopped, and she missed the connection they used to share outside bed.

She turned her attention back to Lia and Sam Brand. The man hadn’t prompted Lia for her name again and instead turned to Mason, who was at the head of the table directly to Sam’s left. Daff tried to catch Lia’s eyes, but her sister was suddenly very interested in her plate, eating with more focus than the meal required.

Sam Brand was an interesting, lively addition to their evening, and soon everybody was laughing at the comical account of his journey from Maputo to Riversend over the last twenty-four hours. Seemed like it had involved just about every mode of transportation imaginable. They were all hooting about a story involving a woman and a chicken in a public taxi when Lia abruptly excused herself. Nobody else seemed to think anything of it, but Daff watched as Sam Brand’s predatory eyes tracked her sister’s movements.

Daff leaned toward him, a bright smile plastered to her face—by now the conversation had flowed in a different direction and nobody was paying attention to them.

“Back off, Brand,” she growled. “She’s not interested and you’re making her uncomfortable.”

He turned to her with a laconic grin on his face, and Daff decided in that instant that she probably wasn’t going to like this suave asshole.

“I’ll wait for her to tell me that herself,” he murmured in that crisp British accent of his and then leaned in, a conspiratorial smile on his face. “So . . . what’s her name?”

“Ugh . . .” She turned away from him and met Spencer’s brooding gaze. He was a serious man, but lately he looked downright gloomy every time he looked at her. She wanted her Spencer back. The man who shared his rare smiles and incomprehensible sense of humor with her. The man who couldn’t seem to get enough of her company. Lately it seemed like he went out of his way to avoid her when they weren’t making love.

Lia returned a few moments later, looking less strained. She smiled gratefully when Spencer, in typical fashion, stood and held her chair out.

“So why were you in Maputo, Sam?” Mason asked.

“Looking to expand the business,” Sam explained, and Mason nodded. The two men had co-owned a personal protection company until Mason had sold his half to Sam for a vast amount of money.

“Yeah, just like we always talked about. There’s decent business down here, but I want to set up the African base in the Cape and use it mostly for recruiting and training new officers.”

“Makes sense.” Mason nodded. “Does this mean we’ll have more opportunities to see you?”

The guy’s eyes went back to Lia’s downcast head, and Daff did not like his smile.

“Oh, I think that’s a definite possibility.”

“I didn’t like that guy at all,” Daff bitched to Spencer a couple of hours later after they’d returned to his place. She was applying lotion to her legs; she loved the way Spencer’s eyes usually followed every sweep of her hands. But tonight he barely spared them a look. Maybe they were becoming familiar with each other’s routine and it was old hat to him now. She tried not to think about possibly boring him and instead continued her little anti-Brand campaign. “He’s too smooth and too arrogant and he’s way too interested in Lia.”