Cross The Line

CHAPTER THREE

"Let's just say, I sleep diagonally across my mattress. Every night."

- Phoebe West, reflecting on her relationship status.

Nate steps toward me, his expression darkening like the thunderheads I watch roll across the ocean on summer nights from my balcony in Nantucket. When he speaks, his words are a lightning strike.

"Your date tonight."

Flash.

"Brett Croft."

Crack.

"You're not seeing him again."

Boom.

His declaration echoes for a moment in the darkness, leaving me paralyzed — as though I really have been struck by a bolt of electricity. Volts of confusion whisper through me as I search for words to counter his startling statement.

This — him being here — is about Brett?

Brett?!

As in, the snooze-worthy date I barely spoke to, tonight?

Boo barks again, angry at being ignored, and Nate and I yell at the same time.

"Quiet, Boo!"

With a resentful growl, the small dog falls grudgingly silent and settles on the couch pillows. His shiny, beady eyes never move from Nate and I'm sure, if I gave him the smallest of signals, he'd be only too happy to vault from the cushions, intent on destruction.

I don't blame him. I myself would like to bite Nate, right now. And not in the sensual, earlobe-nibbling way I typically dream of.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice laced with genuine bewilderment. "Why would you give a rat's ass about Brett Croft?"

Nate takes a step toward me, gaze locked on my face. "He's dangerous."

I can't help but scoff. It's funny — the most dangerous man I've ever met, warning me away from someone like Brett.

His eyes narrow. "Something funny?"

"Brett's a bored billionaire with a gorgeous face and an ass that won't quit." I roll my eyes. "Delicious? Perhaps. Dangerous? Definitely not."

"For once in your fucking life, would you just listen?" he snaps, striding closer as his hands fist at his sides. "Brett Croft is involved in some fucked up shit. So, I don't give a damn if you think he's delicious." He spits out the word like it's toxic. "Stay the hell away from him."

"And if I don't?"

A perilous glint creeps into his eyes. Seeing it sends a chill racing down my spine.

"If you don't..." He steps closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "I'll find you and I'll drag you back here, kicking and screaming."

"You're absolutely outrageous!" I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. "I haven't seen or spoken to you in years — years! — and now you think you can just barge into my life and boss me around? Tell me what to wear and who to date? No. Nuh uh. Not happening."

He glances toward the ceiling, as though praying for composure, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are calmer. Marginally.

"West, I'm not fucking around. This guy is bad news. I'm working a case for a friend right now, and Brett's square in the middle of it, doing his best to cause a lot of drama for people I like. He's not a good guy. So, do me a fucking favor and for once in your life, do as you're told."