by Malone, M.
So far this has been an incredibly strange Saturday afternoon. I wish I could say I was all modern and sleeping with a guy is no big deal but I’m completely unsure how to act around him now.
He left before Ivy and Jon came home so at least I didn’t have to deal with any questions from my extremely nosy sister. Or any disgusting comments from Jon.
I’d almost forgotten about our dinner plans until he called me up this afternoon. Once he found out I hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet, he insisted on picking me up. I’ve never been to the grocery store with a guy before. It was a completely new experience.
I had a list of exactly what I needed but Tank wanted to go up and down every aisle. I now know things about him I would have never suspected.
He has a sweet tooth but not for chocolate. Instead he likes raspberry flavored everything. Brand names were scrutinized and put back in favor of comparable store brands. I wouldn’t have guessed he would be a thrifty shopper. He also insisted on buying everything.
The doorbell rings and Tank leaves to go answer it. Another deep voice. I grab the nearest dishtowel and hastily wipe my hands.
Tank is so forceful. Such an enigma. I wonder what his brother is like.
I enter the living room. The guy on the couch looks like Tank so I know it must be his brother.
“Hi, Finn. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He accepts my hand and then doesn’t let go so I’m forced to sit on the couch next to him.
“My brother hasn’t told me anything about you and I can guess why. Young. Beautiful. He’s worried I’ll steal you away.”
“Yes, I am. So back off.” Tank comes over and sits between us, forcing his brother to shift over on the couch.
“Boys, no fighting. You’ll scare the poor girl off. I swear I raised them better than this, Emma.”
“They’re just joking around.”
“I may be joking around but Tank is not,” Finn whispers.
I glance at him and he smiles back. He’s an attractive guy, much closer to the movie-star standard than Tank. But for some reason, I don’t feel that wild, uncontrollable heat I feel around his brother.
“Finn, help her set the table!” Claire scolds.
He sighs and gives her a long suffering look but there’s affection behind it.
“Sure thing.” He walks to the cabinet against the wall.
As he walks, I notice he has a slight limp. Then I remember that Tank put the cat’s carrier near the cabinet. What if he falls over it or something?
“Watch out so you don’t trip over—”
Finn’s foot accidentally smacks into the carrier on the floor. Then he leans down to peer inside.
“You have a cat? You don’t have to keep her penned up.” Before I can warn him, he unzips the case. “Come here, little kitty.”
“You might not want to do that. Poochie’s a little anti-social.”
Finn looks back at me and winks. “Animals love me.”
He flips up the top flap of the carrier and suddenly there’s a high-pitched screech. A second later, he jumps back, falling on his butt.
“What the ever-loving fuck is that?”
“It’s a cat. I adopted a cat,” Tank mutters between clenched teeth.
“That is not a cat.” Finn leans closer to get a better look.
Poochie is now hiding behind the recliner in the corner. When Finn steps closer, she hops up to the top of the chair and hisses, her bony back arched. If she’d had hair to speak of, it would be standing completely on end.
“It’s naked,” Finn accuses before turning to look at Tank. “You have a naked cat?”
Then he starts to laugh, his deep voice booming across the room. Poochie doesn’t like the noise so she hisses again and then settles down on the back of the recliner with a haughty look on her face.
“Emma volunteers at the animal shelter.” Tank looks vaguely embarrassed so I decide to help him out.
“Your brother was kind enough to help me out there yesterday. They’re severely underfunded and there are so many animals that need help.”
Claire puts her arm around me in a supportive squeeze. “That’s so lovely that you volunteer to help out like that.”
“Well, I want to be a veterinarian,” I admit. “That’s been my dream since I was a kid. I’ve always loved animals. The only reason I wasn’t allowed to have a pet growing up was because my mom was allergic to almost everything.”
“Why don’t you have one now?” Tank asks.
I take a deep breath. “Ivy isn’t so fond of critters as she calls them. It’s fine. Once I’ve saved up enough for my own place, I’m getting a dog. A big, sloppy, happy dog that will give me kisses when I come home.”
Finn snickers. “Hell, you can just take Tank home with you if that’s all you want.”
“Finnigan!” Claire scolds but there’s laughter in her voice as she says it.
I’m blushing but I’m laughing, too. “Anyway, the point is that Tank helped me out yesterday and while he was there, Poochie took a bit of a liking to him.”
“So you adopted it?” Finn looks back at the now snoozing cat in disbelief.
Tank shrugs. “The damn thing followed me around the whole time then looked at me like I was abandoning her to the wolves when I had to leave.”
Finn looks between the two of us and then back to the cat before shaking his head in exaggerated wonder.
“I’m just shocked. You’ve never been a cat person.”
Tank looks over at me. “Apparently this is an exception.”
My face heats under his scrutiny. His words from yesterday come back to me.
I just don’t care that much as a general rule. You seem to be the exception.
I can’t even begin to puzzle out what he means and what I want him to mean while under the watchful eye of his mother and brother. So I cough and step away.
“The bread should be about ready to come out of the oven. Excuse me.”
* * *
I take the opportunity to check on the sauce again. The smell acts as a beacon and before long Claire, Finn and Tank are in the kitchen with me, gathering up plates and bowls and peering over my shoulder. It’s a warm and wonderful feeling to have people to cook for again.
“It’s ready.”
Tank leans over my shoulder and I instinctively raise the spoon to his lips for a taste. His arms tighten around my waist and his head dips.
We’re so close, his chest to my back and his hips snugged up against my waist. My thoughts can’t help but veer off in a different direction when he parts his lips.
Finn elbows him. “Get a room, you two. I’m starving.”
The moment is broken and the murderous look on Tank’s face makes up for the embarrassment of almost jumping him in his mother’s kitchen. We all fill plates with pasta and bread hot from the oven.
Once I’m seated, Claire holds up one of the wine bottles on the table. “Red or white?”
“Red will go well with this meat sauce.”
She pours a little in my glass and then some for herself. Tank brings out a beer for himself and one for Finn. He winks at me as he sits down.
There’s no conversation for a while as everyone digs in. It’s the most amazing sound for a cook when everyone is so absorbed with their food they don’t even stop to talk. I’ve outdone myself on the meat sauce and the pasta is perfectly al dente.
“This is delicious, Emma,” Finn finally says around a huge mouthful of pasta. “You need to come around more often.”
“Yes, she should.” Claire sends a pointed look at Tank. “We’d be glad to see you anytime. That means bring her back, Tanner.”
When she says his name, it reminds me that I wanted to ask her about it. “How did he get the nickname Tank?”
Tank looks over at me, surprised. “Why didn’t you ask me that? I would have told you.”
“Because I want to ask your mom. She’ll give me the real story.”
&
nbsp; Finn snorts. “It’s really not a story. He hit puberty and suddenly he hit like a tank. I had the bruises to prove it.”
We all laugh at his affected expression.
“You’re hardly a small guy yourself. I’m sure you could handle it,” I respond.
“True but not so much when he was fifteen and I was twelve. What you really should ask Mom about are his skills onstage.”
Tank drops his fork and glares across the table at his brother. “You really want me to tackle you right now, don’t you?”
“The stage?” I look back and forth between them. “Was he in the school play or something?”
Claire takes a sip of her wine and glances over at Tank.
“He used to perform with me sometimes when I was singing in a cabaret. I used to practice the songs all the time so I’m surprised Finn didn’t know them, too. But Tank would sing with me. Once I realized he had talent, the theatre company cast him in a few small parts.”
“That was a long time ago, Mom.” Tank’s cheeks have a slight flush to them.
He’s usually so nonchalant that I’m shocked he seems so bothered by this.
“Yes it was.” Claire looks wistful. “I always wished I’d had the money to hire a singing coach for you or something. He had a beautiful voice, even in high school. Some boys lose their voice after it changes but not Tank.”
“Can we talk about something else now?” Tank looks mortified. “Let’s talk about Finn and his extracurriculars in school. Oh wait, he didn’t have any. Unless you count convincing girls to meet him under the bleachers.”
Finn acknowledges the insult with a grin. “Hey, that was extra. And it was definitely curricular.”
Claire puts down her fork. “Do I need to put you two in time out?”
“Okay, okay. So, how did you two meet anyway?” Finn takes a huge bite of his roll.
“Emma is a friend of a friend.”
Finn looks confused. “What friend? None of our friends are classy enough to hang with her.”
“I met Tank at the law office where I work. Actually, I know your father, too. He’s been really nice to me. He gave me some advice about college. How to get loans and grants and stuff.”
Silence descends upon the table immediately. Claire puts down her wineglass.
“Their father? Maxwell Marshall? He’s back in town?”
There’s a sudden hostility in the air and I’m not sure how to answer. Tank and Finn seem to be having a silent conversation of some kind. Claire looks at me expectantly. There’s a note in the air that I can’t describe.
This is more than just the usual post-divorce drama.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s a client of the law office where I work.”
She immediately looks at Tank. “This is why you’ve been so secretive lately? Oh dear lord, tell me that’s not how you got the money?”
Finn glances at me quickly before putting a hand on his mother’s arm. “Mom, we don’t want you to worry about any of that.”
She doesn’t answer and after a moment, gets up from the table. “Emma, I’m so sorry but I’m not terribly hungry anymore. I’m going to rest for a while.”
“Of course.”
I watch as she disappears down the hallway leading to the back of the house. When I turn around, Finn’s watching me with narrowed eyes.
“I didn’t know it was a secret,” I mutter.
“Don’t jump down her throat, Finn. She’s not the one in the wrong. We are. I should have told Mom last time I was here. She would have found out eventually.”
“I know but not right now. Not when she’s already got so much to worry about.”
Tank lifts his plate and his mother’s from the table and disappears into the kitchen.
After he’s gone, Finn reaches out and touches my arm. “I’m sorry, Emma. It’s really not your fault and I have no right to take my frustration out on you.”
He gets up and leaves the table, too. I’m left alone with a plate of spaghetti and a half-empty bottle of wine. I pour myself a little more and take a swig before getting up to search for Tank. The back door is slightly open so I stick my head out into the cold night air.
Tank is on the back step, leaning back on his arms and looking up at the night sky. At the sound of the door opening he looks over his shoulder.
“Sorry about the drama, Emma. I told you my family was like a reality show.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I pull my sweater closer and then sit down on the top step next to him. I’d assumed he was looking at the stars but his eyes are closed.
“Can I ask you a question? If it’s too painful, you can tell me to mind my own business.”
His eyes open and he angles his body so he’s facing me. “You can ask me whatever you want. I already told you, you’re the exception to all my rules.”
A thrill rushes through me at his words. It’s impossible not to be affected when he’s looking at me like this, like I’m the only thing he wants. The only thing he needs.
I look away and try to focus. “Why is this all such a big secret? I know your parents are divorced but was the breakup really that bad? He just seems so nice. I can’t imagine Mr. Marshall doing anything to intentionally hurt anyone.”
Tank leans back on his arms, his face turned up to the sky. “I’m sure he can seem nice when it’s in his best interest. All the best con men are good actors. He fooled my mom into thinking he was a great guy until he ditched us when I was eight years old. Finn was five.”
“He abandoned you?”
“Yeah. Never looked back either. Until late last year when a letter showed up from a law firm. I actually thought it was a scam at first.”
“No contact in all that time? That’s just …”
“Pretty cold, right? But that’s how he operates. Mom told us a few years ago that he actually came back once. It was a few years after he left. She didn’t want us to know. Figured it was better for us not to be disappointed again if it didn’t work out. That was a good call because it turns out he just needed money. He stayed in town long enough to seduce her and then he took her savings and cleared out again. That’s what he does. He uses people.”
All this time, I’ve been trying to put the pieces together. Why Mr. Marshall would be willing to pay so much just to establish contact with his son. Why Tank seemed so hostile toward him.
Why it all felt so wrong.
Now it makes sense. When I’d told Mr. Marshall that Tank flirted with me, I’d given him information he’d seen as a possible weapon. He wasn’t just asking me to carry a message to his son.
He was using Tank’s feelings for me to manipulate him.
And I’d played directly into his hands.
I turn to Tank and cup his face between my hands. He’s startled but leans closer, turning into the warmth of my palm.
“If you don’t want to see him, then you shouldn’t have to. Do what your heart tells you to do and nothing less.”
His eyes bore into mine like he’s trying to read the truth of my words in my gaze. Then he leans closer. He glances up at me, giving me plenty of time to back away. To turn away.
But I don’t.
His lips cover mine and soon my fingers get lost in his thick hair. His other arm lifts to hold me closer and the kiss deepens. When he kissed me before, it was all tangled up in heat and urgency.
This is different.
His fingers spread through my hair, holding me still as his tongue plumbs the depths of my mouth. All the while his thumb traces a soft path on my cheek. A soft noise escapes the back of my throat and the sound seems to spur him on. The way he touches me is so surprising. He treats me like I’m delicate, something he wants to protect but also like I’m the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
Voices drift from the slightly open door behind us and then there’s the clatter of dishes in the sink. The loud sounds remind me where we are. Claire or Finn could come out at any time and catch us.
We pull
apart, each taking deep gasping breaths. Tank’s chest heaves and he closes his eyes, fighting for control. I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t give me immense satisfaction to watch this big, magnificent male creature fighting to control himself around me. But the longer I’m around Tank, the more I realize just how little possibility there is for us.
Even though he doesn’t know it, I’m just one more person Tank can’t trust.
One more person who wants something from him.
“I like you, Tank.”
His eyes cloud and he pulls back slightly. “There’s a but in there somewhere. We’re amazing together, Emma. I’ve never felt this kind of chemistry with anyone before. Have you?”
“No but that doesn’t mean it’s right. If it was any other time maybe I’d say we should just go with it and have a little fun. You’re dealing with a lot and I’m still trying to get my education back on track. I think we need some time apart. To think. I don’t have time for distractions and you have distraction written all over you.”
The words seem to please him because he grins, that sexy, arrogant grin. “I’ll give you some time. But I don’t think it’ll change anything.”
“If we let it go any further, I’ll only end up liking you more.”
Suddenly his face changes. Becomes dark again. His mood swings are always so abrupt, they scare me a little.
“I’m not sure I can stay away from you,” he admits.
The confession rips at my conscience. He wouldn’t feel that way if he knew why I was really here.
Once he knows he’ll hate me.
And that’s what I’m really afraid of.
Chapter Thirteen
Tank
My fist hovers over the door of my father’s hotel room for a few seconds before I finally knock. I step back, unexpectedly nervous. What am I going to say?
Do I shake his hand?
Do I call him Max or Dad?
I mean, it’s been twenty years since I’ve seen the man.
A young woman answers the door. She leans back slightly at the sight of my scowling expression. I run a hand over my face and try to look neutral. It’s not her fault that I’d rather be anywhere but here.
