What Chris Wants
Page 6

Priss waved at him and beside her in the driver’s seat, Trace scowled.
Damn.
Heart hammering, he exhaled a long breath, worked up a smile and waved back. Now in a rush, he hit the intercom and said, “Matt here, with Priss and Trace,” because, really, that seemed much less intrusive than explaining that he’d come alone, uninvited.
It was Molly who said, “Hi, Matt. Come on through.” The gates opened and he entered, with Trace close behind. When he parked, he found Dare standing there in front of the big house, arms crossed over his chest, one brow lifted.
Uncertainty got a stranglehold on his throat, but Matt was nothing if not brazen. “Hi, Dare.” He waved again and left his car. “Chris around?”
“He went into town.”
Oh hell. So they knew Chris hadn’t invited him. Awkward. Keeping a smile pasted on his face, he asked, “Any idea when he’ll be back?”
“Probably within the hour.”
“Oh…good.” Now what? He looked around, hoping for inspiration.
Priss saved him when she sidled up and said, “Come on in. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some stuff anyway.”
Trace always looked like a thundercloud, but more so now with Priss’s announcement. “What stuff?”
Looping her arm through Matt’s, she told her husband, “I want to surprise Alani with the works. You know, top-to-toes polishing. New haircut and style. Maybe a deep conditioner. Manicure and pedicure in some fresh, trendy color. Maybe a facial, too, and makeup—”
Looking glazed over by the details, Trace interrupted her to say, “Sounds good. Have fun.” He and Dare went into the house together.
Snickering, Priss leaned into Matt. “They’re so easy. Talk about girl stuff and it’s all they can do not to yawn.”
Chris was the same, at least in that respect. He was so disinterested in the things that interested Matt.
God, he didn’t know what to think—especially when Priss steered him toward the yard instead of the house.
“Want to sit on the dock and talk?”
And avoid Trace and Dare? “Absolutely.”
As if she’d read his thoughts, she grinned. “You know they like you, right?”
“Yes, of course. The warmth is there in the narrow-eyed scrutiny of my every move.”
Priss hugged him close with a laugh. “Hey, they allow you in, and that says it all.” Still leaning into his side, she pulled out her phone and sent a message. “Molly will join us.”
With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, Matt said, “Yay.” What were the wives up to? Matt had the awful feeling that he was about to be grilled.
They were only halfway down the hill to the dock when Molly and both dogs came out. Tai and Sargie charged down the hill, circled them, ran back up to Molly, down again—and then to the dock, where they made perfect doggy dives into the water.
As they swam this way and that, going under the dock and around the boathouse, Matt laughed. “What are they doing?”
“Looking for Chris.” Priss slanted a look his way. “They love him.”
Matt firmed his mouth; he wasn’t about to comment on that. Not until he talked to Chris.
The dock rocked under their feet. Sunlight sparkled off the surface of the water in a dazzling display. So pretty and peaceful. He understood why Chris enjoyed it here so much.
Sitting down at the edge of the dock, Matt pulled off his shoes and peeled off his socks, setting them behind him. Priss came down so close to him she damn near sat in his lap, her shoulder to his, their elbows bumping as he rolled up his pants to midcalf.
Wearing shorts without shoes, Priss dropped her feet in, kicking lazily. Molly crowded in on his other side. She wore capris and smelled like sunshine, as if she’d already been outside for a while. Matt knew she sometimes took long walks while working on plots for her books.
The women sandwiched him in. He could feel the strength of their purpose, and finally, after cooling his feet off in the water, he said, “All right. Let me have it.”
Without preamble, Priss launched into speech.
CHAPTER THREE
“What’s up with you and Chris? One minute you two look annoyed with each other, and then you spend the night.”
“But then you leave practically before the sun is up,” Molly interjected. “And Chris hides it well, but he’s not happy.”
Not happy? That was news to Matt. He said to Priss, “It’s none of your business,” and then to Molly, “He told me to leave.”
“Oh.” Molly leaned around him to look at Priss.
Priss shrugged.
They were both wonderful and he adored them, but he wouldn’t discuss with them the confusing particulars of his relationship with Chris.
Except maybe to say, “I had to get to work anyway.”
“Oh,” they said again.
Matt rolled his eyes. “I should have brought my trunks. It’s broiling out here today.”
“So take off your shirt,” Priss told him. “I would if I could.”
That made him laugh. If her husband heard that sentiment, it’d likely set him off—either making him jealous or causing him to carry her off so she could remove her shirt, and more. As Matt opened the buttons on his shirt, he teased her. “You like to give Trace heart palpitations, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t take much,” Molly said. “If she breathes, Trace goes on the alert.”