“Sure.” I put down my beer and follow him into the kitchen.

Grimacing, he leans against the counter and runs a hand through his sloppy mop of hair.

“What do you need?” I look around the kitchen for something heavy that needs lifting or boxes that need to be unpacked—anything to explain why he brought me back here. What I don’t do is look at his office or even walk near it. I won’t return to the scene of the crime with Jake watching.

Not that it felt like a crime. It never feels wrong when I’m with Shay.

Jake takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again. What the hell?

“What’s up, Jake?”

“Listen.” He winces, like just having to come up with words is causing him physical pain. “I’ve never had to do the protective-big-brother thing. I respect Shay and know she can make her own decisions.”

I arch a brow. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a big but waiting at the end of that sentence?”

“I heard you and Shay fighting in the office tonight.” He rolls his neck. “Then I heard you . . . not fighting.”

“Oh.” While under a different set of circumstances, I’d be happy to own up to what I was doing with his little sister in there, I have a feeling Jake doesn’t want to hear that Shay seduced me into a veritable hate-fuck against his office door.

“Oh? That’s all you have? Seriously?” He mutters an impressive string of curses. “This is when you’re supposed to tell me it wasn’t what I think. Dammit.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Jake . . .” But what do I say? Yeah, I screwed your sister in your office, but only when she insisted? Don’t worry, we used a condom from your desk?

“First of all, regardless of how the rest of this conversation goes, let’s just establish that’s my office. I’m going to have to have my cleaning lady in to disinfect the place. The only sex that’s permitted inside this kitchen is between me and my wife. Got it?”

I laugh, but it’s forced. This conversation is painful. I’ve had testicular exams less awkward. “Sure.”

He folds his arms. “Are you serious about her, or is she just some convenient lay to you?”

My brows shoot up. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Of course I’m not kidding. You think I’m enjoying this conversation? This is Shay, Easton. She’s . . .” He shakes his head. “Do you remember the guy she was with in high school and college?”

Steve. How could I forget the ass who had her so nervous he might call it quits if she didn’t give him her virginity? The guy who stayed with her only to dump her in Paris? I bet I know more about Steve than the Jackson brothers do. “Yeah, I remember him.”