She drops her bag on the kitchen table and spins to face me. A pair of dark-rimmed glasses frame her eyes, making the gray pop. Her too-red lipstick sets everything off balance. I want to hand her a tissue and tell her to wipe it off so it’s not a distraction, but I might end up in a headlock for that.

Instead, I go with something snarky and only somewhat improper. “You decided on breeze-appropriate attire today, huh?”

The only sign that I’ve gotten to her is the slight tic in her cheek. She blinks once and drags her pink tongue across her red lips before she smiles. “Watch yourself, Lincoln. You’re sounding a lot like your brother, and we both know how I deal with him. Next time you’ll know to knock before barging into my office and throwing out asinine accusations.”

“First of all, they weren’t asinine accusations. You should know that, considering you’re the one cleaning up all my brother’s messes. Secondly, who the hell wears a dress without panties?” Okay, that last question should have stayed inside my head instead of coming out of my mouth; however, I’m curious as to the answer. Also, I say this kind of stuff to be funny, where my brother would say it expecting to get lucky, which is not the same.

Being panty-less in an office with my brother seems dangerous.

“My panties were wet,” Wren snaps.

I arch a brow, and her eyes flare.

“Because of the coffee that Armstrong spilled on me. And sticky. They were wet and sticky and uncomfortable from the coffee.”

I fight to keep from smiling while I nod. “Makes perfect sense.”

“Speaking of panties, it would probably be a good idea for you to put something else on to cover yours, considering we need to leave sooner rather than later.” She spins on her heel and stalks down the hall in the direction of my bedroom.

“What are you even doing here?” I rearrange my cock, because for whatever reason, it seems to be responding to the female company. Clearly it doesn’t realize she’s an annoyance yet.

“You have a suit fitting this morning and an appointment at the spa to clean this up.” She makes a circle motion around her face. “If you’d bother to check the messages I sent you, or your calendar, or your voicemails, you would’ve known that. Also, I told you yesterday when you were in my office accusing me of being paid for sexual favors.”

She throws open the closet doors and steps inside. Despite this being the spare bedroom, the right side is filled with my cousin’s suits. It’s his winter wardrobe, so he rotates with the seasons. He’s particular about his clothes. I try not to be too judgmental about it.

Wren lifts one from the rack and frowns. “This is a great suit, although a little heavy for the season.” She checks the tag on the inside then holds it up in my direction, mouth turning down even more. “Why is it so big?”

“Everything in here belongs to my cousin.”

“Is he a descendant of the Hulk?”

I lean against the doorjamb as she combs through the suits. “He’s actually the smallest of his brothers.”

She waves in my general direction. “You’re already more than enough man; anything beyond this is ridiculous.”

“Is that right?”

Her head turns in my direction. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?”

She brushes past me. “Nothing, never mind. We have to be at Saks in forty-five minutes. You need to get dressed so we’re not late. Where are your clothes?”

I motion to the worn, oversize backpack on the lounger in the corner of the room. “Most of it’s still in there.” I hadn’t planned to stay, so I never bothered to unpack. Now that it looks like I’m sticking around, I’m going to have to find alternate living arrangements and clothes that aren’t meant for hard labor in warm climates.

She rummages around in my bag and pulls out a pair of faded black jeans and a shirt with a hedgehog that reads WHY CAN’T YOU JUST SHARE THE HEDGE?

She arches an eyebrow. “I guess these will do. We’ll need to update your casual wardrobe while we’re at it.”

“The kids in Guatemala love my T-shirts.” There aren’t a lot of shopping opportunities, at least not where I was, and the ridiculous shirts made the kids laugh, which is the reason I wore them.

“I bet they do.” She graces me with a smile that seems almost genuine. “Okay, time to cover up all the prime real estate unless you’d like to give all the women at Saks heart palpitations.” Her eyes flutter shut, and she grimaces. “Stupid mouth.” She slaps the clothes against my bare chest. With that, she strides quickly through the bedroom and disappears down the hall.

I’m not sure how to take her, but at least she’s interesting. I throw on the jeans and T-shirt and meet her in the kitchen. She’s typing away on her laptop, having made herself at home. As soon as she sees me, she slams it closed and slips it back inside her bag. It’s huge, almost the size of my backpack.