Yeah, he’d seen her. He’d met her, probably many times, over the last couple of years. His sister, Larissa, seemed pretty tight with her.
But the idea of Treylookingat Courteney with anything close to the look he was giving me now… it made my molars fucking vibrate. My jaw involuntarily clenched.
I tried to shut him down with a look and Trey just smiled, like the goddamn Cheshire Cat. With dimples.
“She still got those beauties…?” He plucked his left nipple through his shirt—and fucking laughed at whatever he saw on my face.
“No,” I said, dead cold. “She doesn’t.”
“A’ight, I feel you. You don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Nothing to talk about.”
“You know I’m fucking kidding. What is she, in high school?”
“Just graduated.”
“I rest my fucking case.” Then he got serious; office tower Trey was back. “You want some more advice… never shit where you eat. And never, I mean fucking never, date a teenager. Nice to look at, but you’d rather peel off your own fingernails than make conversation. There is just nothing upstairs but bullshit and drama. And that’s if you get a smart one. Tried it once. Nineteen-year-old honey, like the second coming of Michelle Goddamn Pfeiffer. Lasted about two weeks before I had to jet. I’m telling you. Leave the girls to the boys… and find yourself a woman.”
“A nineteen-year-old isn’t a woman?”
“Shit, no. You know I prefer my ladies thirty and up. Minimum. The more mature, the better. Older women know where it’s at. No head games.”
“Uh-huh. So over thirty… that’s the recipe for success?”
“Ain’t no recipe, Xan. It’s freestyle out here. Met this little Brazilian honey just the other day, definitely gonna be seeing her again. She’s twenty-six. But everyone’s got their favorite flavor, that’s all I’m saying. A man who knows himself wins the game.”
“Noted.”
He snickered. “Just make sure your flavor isn’t your best friend’s little sister, you’ll be alright.”
“It’s not.”
“Good on you.”
Fuck me.
The fucker didn’t even believe me.
“So. You wanna meet me at the Ruby later tonight?” he asked, eying me. “I’ll introduce you to some real nice ladies over thirty…”
“I think I’m busy,” I muttered.
Trey laughed.
* * *
I avoided going back to the house until the middle of the night.
When I drove through the gate, I tried to ease the Vette up the driveway as slowly and quietly as I could, and parked next to Courteney’s car.
In the afternoon, I’d taken myself shopping. I’d made Jordan come with me, though eventually she pretty much told me to fuck off and go home because I was annoying her. She said I was “stress shopping again.”
She always said that.
At least I’d scored a few new shirts out of it. So sue me, I liked clothes.
None of my male friends were exactly gonna shop with me. Half the reason I kept an assistant on payroll—or at leastthisassistant—was for the shopping. Jo wasn’t the clothes hound I was, but she had a great eye for what looked best on me. I paid her well, so she took my shopping “addiction”—as she called it—in stride. It was part of the deal.