models,â Dash had said with an edge to his voice that at the time Iâd interpreted as jealousy of his charismatic brother, not a reflection of something lacking in me.
Thinking of the comment now made my stomach flip like the pancake in my pan.
I was relieved to see Cyan in spite of his resemblance to Dash and the memories it brought up and I didnât really want my guest to leave right away. There was something comforting about the way his body filled the small space of the bungalow, the smooth-planed, almost monastic beauty of his face.
âWhere are you staying?â I asked.
âI got a motel. Iâm good.â
âA motel? Is that comfortable?â
âI love motels. Iâm doing a photo series on them. The older and more run-down the better.â
âCool. Iâd like to see them. The photos, not the motels. My sheets are nicer, I guarantee it.â
The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly; he had very full lips. âI donât doubt that. Itâs fine. But Iâm going to be checking up on you, Catt. Seriously.â
âOkay,â I said. âAnd if you need a haircut, Iâm your girl. On the house.â
He laughed, smoothing his fingers over his shaved head, so well shaped it looked like an Egyptian statueâs. âIf I ever actually need one, yes.â
âDo you want to stay for pancakes?â I really wanted him to.
âNo, you have company. You two need the nutrition more than I do. You better eat some. And I have to get going anyway and hit the gym early.â
âThe gym? Instead of pancakes?â
âI need it to de-stress. Iâll take a rain check, though.â
âOf course. Where are you going to work out?â
He wasnât sure so I told him about Body Farm and gave him a guest pass Iâd had in my wallet for months.
His hands were cool and strong, with large, smooth nail beds and oddly flexible thumbs, and I let him hold my hand in both of his, for a moment, before he left.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
âDashâs brother? The hot one?â Bree said when I told her. She was an hour late to pick up Skylar, so Iâd fed him dinner and helped him with his homework for the next day.
âThereâs only one, Bree.â
She had met Cyan at my wedding and flirted with him of course, telling him about her interest in photography. âIâm obsessed with an art form entirely based on light,â she had said.
âAnd its absence,â he had corrected her.
Nothing came of it; she was solid with Baby Daddy at the time. I remembered Cyanâs placid expression when they were introduced, so unlike the reaction most men had to Bree, figured he was just being respectful of Baby Daddy. But that cool regard was probably another reason why Cyan had stuck in her mind. A challenge.
âDoes he have a secret crush on you or something?â
I pushed her hand awayâshe was trying to brush my hair out of my eyes.
âWhat?â She pouted at me, innocent gaze, incensed mouth.
âHe just wanted to see if I was okay. All you think about isââ
âSex. Yes, I know.â
This made me flash on Dash with his sex-addict meetings and I flinched. Cyan seemed so different from his brother.
âAnd also, why else would he have ignored me at your wedding?â
She had a point there.
Our Love Monster âdocumented, punk-rock wedding had been at Dashâs friendâs house in the Hollywood Hills. Dashâs band played and everyone brought food, which we later called âpot bad luckâ since it was basically a mess of fruit salad, hummus, guacamole, and chips with no real main course. The dessert was good, thoughâour favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies and a pink-and-black skull-and-crossbones cake festooned with frosting roses. The bride and groom were a Day of the Dead skeleton couple. We hung white gauze and pink twinkle lights in the trees. I wore a