“You shouldn’t be flirting with the new probie. If Fred was here, he’d tell you.” Mulligan looked very sure of that fact—arrogant, even. She assessed the bump in his nose, the way his biceps bulged from the sleeves of his T-shirt, his air of absolute assurance. Another girl might be intimidated, but Lizzie had grown up with four brothers who’d become soldiers and a firefighter. She’d outgrown intimidation by the age of six.
“Why are you so suspicious of Ace? He’s part of the brotherhood, isn’t he?”
“Not yet,” Mulligan said with decisive finality, as if everything had now been settled. “You stay here, and I’ll tell him to get lost.”
“You will not!” She grabbed his arm as he brushed past her. It felt like grabbing a log, that’s how thick and strong his forearm was. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business. Freddie’s my business. We’re tight.”
“If you were that tight, you’d know that his only involvement with my love life is feeding me ice cream after a breakup,” she snapped. “Stay out of it, Mulligan. You have some nerve, you really do. I’ve never even met you before, and you’re trying to tell me who to sleep with.”
He stopped dead. She kept her hand on his arm because it felt so good. His tendons tightened under her touch, and she saw his jaw flex.
A quick flick of his wrist, and suddenly she was pressed against him, chest to chest, thighs to thighs. Sensation poured through her; it felt like standing next to a volcano. “I’m not telling you who to sleep with. I’m telling you who not to sleep with.”
“Oh, really?” she snapped, furious. “Who should I not sleep with?”
“Anyone but me.”