swollen; her throat was on fire. Not to mention her wavy hair was knotted to shit. There was no denying that she was a complete and utter mess. All of that didn’t matter. She was more messed up on the inside than the outside. Now that she would bet on.
“Coffee,” she managed to say before hiccups took over.
Mentally exhausted, she rubbed her sore eyes and watched Brandon enter her kitchen. “Hey, how did you know to come over here?” Why hadn’t she thought to ask that before? What was Brandon doing here?
The laugh that came from the kitchen made delicious chills go down her spine. “I came over to check on you. You were gone when I woke up. That’s when I saw your door open and some strange man looming over you. I almost killed him. I thought with you on the ground and unconscious…well, what was I supposed to think? Why did you leave?”
Evelyn watched as he stood pouring coffee into one of the coffee mugs resting on a white towel on the counter. She couldn’t help but shift uneasily on the couch.
“Staying the night with someone is so personal. I just don’t do it. I’m sorry. It’s nothing against you. I just have rules that I go by. It helps…me.”
Here she was, once again spilling her guts out to this man. Poor guy. Lord only knew what he must think of her. Why he kept coming back was beyond any conclusions she could come up with. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.
“Do you take cream or sugar?”
Evelyn stood, walking to her cabinets. There was only one way she liked her coffee: a lot of cream and a little sugar. Brandon poured his, leaving it black. Stephen liked his coffee black. With that thought, she turned and, walking to the couch, felt him follow.
“So, do you know what you’re going to do about Steve?”
A giggle escaped her mouth. “It’s Stephen. If you call him Steve, prepare to duck—he might just hit you. He hates being called that. Don’t ask me why, I never found out.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said, grinning wickedly.
“Behave, Brandon. The last thing I want is any drama. I seem to accumulate that all on my own.”
“No kidding. What is that, three now?”
Evelyn’s eyebrows came together. “Three, what do you mean?” She raised her hand, getting his meaning. Three, Jesus! “Yes, now I have three of you to deal with. Shit, what in the hell am I going to do?”
Brandon set down his coffee cup and rested his head in her lap. It took everything she had not to spill her coffee on him. “What in the hell are you doing?”
He nuzzled his head against her thighs and lower stomach like a big cat or dog. It was rather distracting. She couldn’t form a single thought besides pushing his head deeper between her thighs. It was unnerving.
“Relax, Evelyn, just play with my hair. I like the way it feels.”
Caught off guard, she laughed. Of all the damn things he liked, he would pick his hair being played with? It might have been just her, but he seemed a little masculine to like something so feminine. Oh well, who was she to judge someone on his or her like or dislikes. She made bets on sex, for crying out loud.
Besides all of that, did she really want to be stroking some man’s hair whom she had just met the day before? Evelyn had never had a guy order her around. Why was she starting now?
“Umm, Brandon, that’s a little intimate, don’t you think?”
“Come on, Evelyn, I asked you to play with my hair, not marry me. Not yet, anyway.” He laughed.
That was the second time marriage had come up in fifteen minutes. What in the hell was with everyone and that word today? Thoughts consumed her, Stephen, Bill, and Brandon, all in such a short time. Shit, what had she gotten herself into now? Surely none of the other girls had this much trouble in life.
Evelyn hesitated while she thought through what had just happened. She hadn’t even realized that while she was thinking, her fingers had grown a mind of their own and were playing with the silky