“Philip,” Tommy shouted and then leaped out of the pool and charged toward his brother.
“Don’t you dare,” Philip warned, holding out an arm like a barrier. Tommy ignored his warning and wrapped his arms around the guy, giving him a hug that left his shirt and pants soaking wet and clinging to his body.
“Asshole,” Philip muttered as he snagged a towel and scrubbed at the wetness on his clothes.
Tommy stood next to him, grinning. “Camila, this is Philip. He’s brother number two.”
Camila was still in the pool, arms crossed over the side, watching the exchange. She waved.
“Mom said Elliot’s the one who brought a girl home, not you. Or did I hear her wrong?” Philip asked.
“You didn’t hear her wrong,” Tommy said, and Camila held her breath. How would Tommy address his brother’s curiosity? It was silly of her to even wonder. Why did it matter?
“Camila’s the one with the stalker,” Tommy said. “You’re going to her bar with me and Elliot this evening, in case he’s still there and we need to scare him off.”
Philip nodded. “Ah. Nice to meet you, Camila.”
“You too,” she said, mentally pushing away the pang of disappointment. What the hell had she wanted Tommy to say? ‘Hey, bro, this is my girlfriend’? Yeah, right.
“We’ll make sure you’re well protected tonight,” Philip promised. “And if your stalker shows, it’ll be the last time.”
For some reason, she believed him. Which was both a relief and disappointment. Because after tonight, she’d have no excuse to continue hanging out with Tommy.
***
Despite the heat, Philip did not change out of what Camila assumed were his work clothes. He sat on the deck, under the shade provided by the pergola, and drank ice water while she and Tommy stayed in the pool.
Tommy carried on a conversation with his brother while continually trying to feel her up under the water, which was unnerving considering until this point, they’d done their damnedest to hide their affair from his family and her sister.
What had changed, and why wasn’t she privy to it? She wanted to ask Tommy but there wasn’t an opportunity—at least, not without coming right out and saying something in front of Philip—and soon enough, it was time to get ready for work.
This time, Tommy didn’t stop her from packing her bag.
“Are you going straight to work or to your apartment first?” he asked after she was showered and had fixed her hair and makeup, making the hair bigger, the makeup bolder. It was Friday night and she hadn’t worked for four days. She needed the tips.
She shrugged. The bar was between here and her apartment, but she had plenty of time. She could drop off her bag and then head into work.
“Why don’t I follow you to your apartment, then I’ll take you to the bar.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know that. Well, actually, I don’t. What if your stalker is at your apartment? Or at the bar? Or waiting in the parking lot at the end of your shift?”
“I won’t be done until after 2:00 a.m.,” she protested.
“I can wait.”
“Okay, fine.” It was only delaying the inevitable—Tommy leaving, for good. But if he was taking her home after her shift, chances were good that they’d get in one more roll in the hay, and she was definitely down with that, even if it would be the last time. Might as well rack up the orgasms now since she was probably going to go celibate for a while after this.
Since her stalker tended not to show up until ten o’clock on most nights, they agreed that Philip would wait until then to arrive. Elliot and Maddy had promised to come by as well.
Tommy parked out in the employee lot and walked her to the door. “This isn’t necessary,” she said. “Why don’t you go home for a while and come back around ten, like you told Philip to do?”
“I’d rather hang out with you.”
“We won’t be hanging out. I have to work, remember?”
“We’ll still be in the same vicinity.”
She rolled her eyes. If she weren’t careful, she was going to start thinking the guy liked her for more than a temporary good time.
Marcus was behind the bar, counting the till, when she and Tommy walked in. He glanced up and barked, “So you made it after all, huh? And—holy shit.” His eyes widened. “Tommy Bryant? Did you seriously just walk into my bar with Tommy fucking Bryant?” He practically ran around the long slab of wood, his arm outstretched.
Camila had forgotten that Tommy was a celebrity. It had been easy to do since he didn’t act like one. Not that she had any idea how a famous person was supposed to act, but Tommy was, well, simply a laidback, nice guy.
Oh, and hot. He was outrageously hot, which, in retrospect, should have constantly reminded her that he was famous. Normal people didn’t have abs like he did.
Tommy shook Marcus’s hand, offering up an easy smile. “Middle name isn’t fucking, but yeah, I’m Tommy Bryant.”
Marcus’s face went red, and he continued to pump Tommy’s hand. “I can’t believe you’re in my bar right now.
