An aggrieved snarl broke from my throat. “Who did you think was doing it?” The man had seen me bake. For fuck’s sake, I’d baked for the guys all the time. There’d been a two-year period when they’d called me Cake, which had not been fun.

Brommy shrugged weakly. “I actually didn’t think about it.”

I experienced a moment’s discomfort, wondering if it was pathetic that I’d been cooking and baking for everyone. I wouldn’t have done it last year. Oh, I would still have baked; it relaxed me. But I wouldn’t have made it my job to feed everyone day in and day out for every meal.

But now, it was something to keep my mind sharp and off things best ignored. Unfortunately, that did not work when it came to Emma. I thought of her every second I made her breakfast. Put all my remorse and hopes that she was all right into it.

And she’d sent it back untouched.

I rubbed my chest again. It was my own damn fault.

Brommy’s lounge chair squeaked as he turned more my way. “Okay, let me get this straight. You’re glaring into the deep end of the pool because you made breakfast for Emma, and she didn’t eat it.”

“No. That is not why.”

“You’re a shitty liar these days, Oz.” He leaned back, stretching out and making himself comfortable. “You two hooked up at the wedding, huh?”

“What?” I snapped. Shit. I was not thinking about that. I could not think about Emma’s soft skin, the shape of her mouth against mine. No. Do not fucking think about it. “How the hell did you come up with that?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “It’s not a stretch. You’ve been panting after her; she clearly thought you were”—he made a face—“attractive. Weddings are romantic, I guess. At least it seems to make people horny.”

“Jesus.”

“And it was an overnighter. Come on, Oz.” His eyes filled with humor. “It’s me. I know you. You fucked her and—”

“Don’t even go there, Brom. I didn’t fuck her. All right.” Damn it, I wanted to. I should have. I am the stupidest man on earth.

“Whatever you say.” He shrugged again. “Yeah, maybe it’s better to say that, if she’s refusing your food now. Must have been . . . well, hell, it happens to all of us at some point.”

“What happens?” I asked darkly.

His grin was wide and evil. “You know.” He held up his index finger and then made it droop.

I stared at him. Hard. “Listen, shithead. I did not go limp. We did not have sex because . . .” Heat crawled up my neck. Why was I talking about this with Brommy? Because I didn’t have anyone else. And for some reason, I needed to get things off my chest. I rolled my stiff shoulders. “No condoms.”

He paused for a beat. “Ah. Unprepared. Rookie move, Ozzy boy.”

“Being prepared implies that I was expecting some.”

“You honestly didn’t?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

I snorted with feeling. “Believe it or not, I was trying to keep my distance.”

“Why the ever-loving donkey fuck would you want to keep your distance from Emma Maron?” He was near apoplectic now.

I ran a hand over my face and flopped my head back on the lounger. “I don’t fucking know, Brom. Because she’s not a one-night-stand type of woman?”

“No, she’s not,” he agreed heartily. “She’s the ‘Oh, thank Christ this one likes me. I’m gonna hold on and hope she never realizes what a stupid jackweed I am’ type of woman.”

“Thanks. And this coming from Mr. Never Commit.” Brommy had tried to be supportive of my relationship with Cassandra, but he had been pretty adamant that it was a bad idea to propose.

“Hey, I never said never. If I find a girl that makes me smile in my darkest hours, I’m going to do my damnedest to keep her.”

My chest caved in. Emma was the only person I’d ever met who could do that for me. The fact that Brommy obviously knew it was a testament to how willfully stubborn I’d been.

I’d spent my entire life either working to protect those I loved or living in pursuit of proving myself to be the best in my sport. I was a self-contained unit. I hadn’t wanted it any other way. Because I hadn’t known what I was missing. I hadn’t known Emma.

I swallowed with difficulty. “I told her it was a mistake to start anything. That we were just messing around.”

“Asshole.” He said it with sympathy.

I grunted in agreement. “I need to go talk to her.”

“She’s not here.” Sal’s voice had us both jumping.

“Jesus,” Brommy grumped. “How the hell do you move so silently?”

“Years of skulking.” Sal took a seat on the end of the empty lounger next to me. “Better to eavesdrop that way.”

“I love how he says that without shame,” Brommy told me.