by Poppy Dunne
So when one sister rejects him, he latches onto the other? How did he even meet Lily? And has she let him…you know…slime all over her?
I don’t want the answer to that question. I want to throw up, but all I’ve had this afternoon is coffee. I should probably fix that.
“Did George Washington really say that?” I ask Casey. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.
“Emma.” Her flat tone is all the reprimand I need. Sighing, I place my head on the cool plywood of my desk. Go to sleep. Go to sleep and dream of a world where every thing that could go wrong hasn’t. What a magical, surreal landscape that must be.
The desk vibrates under my cheek. Apparently, I have a text. My eyes snap open as I realize it could be Fraser. At the very least, that’d be something. That could distract me from the unsettling, unwanted image of an oiled-up, chest-haired Gavin Walker smarming all over my little sister. When I pick up my phone, though, I find it’s not Fraser who texted me. It’s Lily.
I’m at the Inn at Deep Canyon. 74470 Abronia Trail. Gavin got rough. Plz come. I’m scared.
My brain kind of fuzzes over for a minute as I pass the phone to Casey. Then, I snap back into reality. Grabbing my phone, my keys, my purse, and eventually my jacket when I remember it, I stalk out the cubicle and to the elevators.
Gavin can come after me all he wants. But no one who is not me gets to mess with Lily.
As soon as I grab a to-go croissant from the café downstairs, I am getting my ass to Palm Springs, just as fast as early rush hour will allow.
23
Fraser
When I’ve finished with my rather extensive tale of woe, Charlotte is perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, gripping his hand as though I’ve relayed the story of a rather melodramatic season of television. She probably has a point. I didn’t realize how utterly un-normal the whole thing was until I had to say it aloud. Justin keeps rubbing his chin, as if willing a beard to grow.
“Man, that’s…intense,” he says at last.
“So Emma doesn’t know all that?” Charlotte blows out her cheeks and practically slides into her husband’s lap. He holds her by the waist, looking contented. Just seeing that closeness is almost more than I can bear right now.
“I want to tell her, if she’d pick up my call.”
“We could do something sneaky.” Already, Charlotte’s expression brightens. “We’ll have her over for dinner tonight, and you’ll hide in the bathroom. Then, when she’s halfway through a glass of wine and feeling more in the mood, you walk out without a shirt.”
“Why does he have to be shirtless?” Justin arches a brow.
“Hey, looking’s for free. I know the rest’ll cost me.” She kisses his cheek.
Much as I appreciate being mentally undressed by my friend’s wife, I feel this isn’t the time. “Perhaps I should go. I’ll find time to talk to her in my own way.” I stand, and Justin comes over to slap me on the back. Back slapping. Again, there’s something about Americans that I’ve never understood.
“Emma just wants to be let in. If you do, she’ll come back. I can tell she’s crazy about you.” He hooks an arm around my neck. “And if you ever hurt her again, I’ll have to run you down in the street.”
“There’s the elder brother death threat I was missing.” Honestly, now it’s happened I feel much more secure. “I’d have to thrash you soundly, you understand. In the spirit of being fair.”
“Of course.” We shake hands on it. All very civilized.
Charlotte comes back into the room with a zooming Sebastian, and walks me to the door. I hear Justin get a text just as I step into the outside world…and then a split second later, he’s shoving past me. I grab onto the side of the house as he barrels towards his car.
“What the hell’s got into you?” I snap. When he turns, all my irritation dissipates, because I’ve never seen him so white with astonishment. Swallowing, he hands me the phone.
“Look.” That’s all he says as I grab it and read a text. The sender reads as Lily, the little sister. The instant I see Gavin’s name, my blood freezes. Freezes, then instantly boils. Gavin. Rough. Scared. Plz come.
I’m so furious I don’t even mentally change that ‘plz’ to ‘please.’ Well, not for a few seconds at least.
“Palm Desert? That’s a few hours away,” I mutter, tossing the phone back and striding down the walk. “Get in. We’ll take my car.”
“What? You’re coming?” Justin sounds as dazed as if he’d been hit by a solid piece of plywood. While Charlotte asks what the hell’s going on, I get into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life as Justin gets in beside me, still looking pinched and worried. The tires squeal as I pull out and make a very swift, very reckless U-turn in the center of the street. Justin presses back in his seat as we speed away. I’m gripping onto the steering wheel with all my might. Gavin couldn’t hurt Emma the way he wanted to, the way he seems equipped to treat women. So he goes after her little sister. The bastard. That’s it. I’m going to challenge him to a duel in the fucking desert. A duel with what, I’m not sure. There might be an extra bike tire in the trunk. We could start by rolling each other to death.
“Fras, when Lily texted about some guy named Gavin…was he the guy you told us about?” Now Justin sounds especially sick.
“This is either going to end up as a farce or a tragedy.” I grunt this out between my teeth as I make a hairpin turn onto the freeway ramp. “Either Gavin will be dead by my hand soon, or he’ll have married the French maid.”
“In America, we just say we’re going to kick his ass.” Justin cracks his knuckles, a wild light coming into his eyes. “And if he hurt my sister, I’m going to deliver on that promise.”
I’m so damned proud of Justin. He’s become the confident, potentially murderous good man I always knew he could be.
As the miles fall away and the sun begins its descent, I wait for my heart rate to slow. Nothing calms me, though. When I think of this whole Gavin mess, from Gillian to Emma to Lily, all I see is a problem I didn’t deal with when I should have.
I won’t make that mistake again. For Lily’s sake, and especially for Emma’s, I’m going to be the man everyone needs.
24
Emma
I pull into the motel parking lot, the last rays of sunlight finally fading. Good, because it might be over a hundred degrees when I step out of the car. I can feel my shirt congeal to my back, and the straps of my bra chafe. Ah, the joys of being a woman and going outside. This is why I try to avoid it at all costs.
The office is open, and I enter into the blissful heaven of air conditioning. There’s a kid behind the desk who’s sitting there, head in his hands. He’s looking at the clock on the wall like it’s the only thing that can save him.
“Hey. Have you seen a young woman around here? Probably down by the pool? Leggy, tan, ombre-d blonde hair? Kind of has my face shape, but a little pointier in the chin? She was here with a dark-haired man? Who looked like he was up to no good? You know, she’s not the troublemaker type, but perhaps a little ditzy? About five-nine? Probably taking selfies on her phone? Did you notice the phone? IPhone 6? With the sparkly pink case? She wants to upgrade, but she’s still on the family plan and Dad won’t let her? Even though Mom’s annoyed because God forbid her favorite daughter doesn’t get her own way you know what I’m going to stop talking now. Sorry.”
The kid is looking at me with a gaping mouth. By the slack expression and the general redness of his eyes, I get the distinct impression marijuana plays a part in his daily life.
“You wanna, like, head to the pool?” He points out the door. “Go around the side of the motel. It’s on your right.”
“Thanks.” With nothing left to say, except ‘can you make change for the vending machine?’ because there is a Nestle Crunch bar with my name on it, I head back out into the sweltering desert heat. All kidding aside, my heartbeat’s going rapid pace as I rush around to the pool. What if she’s not th
ere? I should have gotten the room number. But then again, I don’t think they’re allowed to give out that kind of information. But on the other hand, Gavin might have her locked in the room. I can start knocking on all the doors, calling ‘housekeeping’ and see what I get. Or what if he took her away? It’s been hours since I left. Does she have her purse? Did she call an Uber?
Finally, I do the semi-smart thing and text: Where are you? At the pool?
My relief is boundless when I instantly get back YES.
I round the corner to find a gate to the swimming pool. It’s abandoned by now, the lights having just come on. The pool’s a glowing, aquamarine grotto, and right by the edge of it, sitting on a reclining pool chair, is my sister.
Lily’s got her arms around herself, even though it’s sweltering. She’s still got on her turquoise bikini, along with a towel around her waist. Her hair’s dry, but hanging in that stringy way that indicates she went swimming. Her makeup, which she’s usually so careful about, is all smudged. When I open the gate, she looks up with big, fearful raccoon eyes. And I don’t just say raccoon because of the dark, smudged eye look she’s rocking right now. She looks like one false move and she’ll jump over the fence and find a dumpster to hide out in. Hilarious image aside, she looks like she needs a hug.
“Come here.” I open my arms wide, because what are big sisters for?
Lily jumps up and rushes over, blubbering afresh. She’s a few inches taller than I am, and bends herself down so that she gets to rest her head on my shoulder. A little uncomfortable for my spine, this position, but I’m so damned relieved I don’t care. Bring on the chiropractors tomorrow. For right now, it’s enough that nothing terrible has happened.
“What did he do?” We sit down on one of the chairs. “How did this all happen?”
Lily sniffs and wipes at her eyes. “We met when I used your name to get into CAA. Emma, I didn’t know you worked in the book division. I thought you guys were real agents!”
I keep rubbing her back, reminding myself she’s had a minor trauma and this is not the time to show her old clips of Reading Rainbow on my phone. Literature is magic, kids.
“Anyway, Gavin totally made me feel understood. Like, he saw what was good for me as an artist. So when he called and said he wanted to take a sabbatical to get out of town and focus on my career, I was so excited.” She sniffles again. “I didn’t think he’d, ugh, you know. Want to have sex.”
“I feel responsible. I should’ve told you all the Hollywood horror stories when you said you wanted to be an actress. Men like Gavin never want to help you without helping themselves first.” God, I think I choked on some bile saying that.
“Believe me, I know that now. We went back to the room from the pool, and when I said I didn’t want to he got really mad and shoved me out the door. At least I had my phone with me. Then I went out here and waited. I think I got sunburned! They say it adds wrinkles like crazy,” she moans.
Well, at least she’s putting skincare first and foremost. She’s not completely traumatized.
“Okay, what room number is Prince Charming?” I stand, ready to roll up my sleeves and SING. I think Gavin could use a few of my SINGing lessons, if you know what I mean and I mean pain. “We’ll get your clothes, and then we’ll hit the road.”
“I wonder if Justin’s on his way. Maybe we should call. I texted you both.” Lily’s shivering. Well, sitting outside all day in practically nothing will do that to you, even if it’s a hundred degrees. I’m getting ready to text Justin, when a flashy and somewhat familiar car roars into the parking lot. It’s sleek, black, and gleaming from what looks like a high-end wax. Someone blasts on the horn two sharp times, like a total jerk.
A total jerk in a somewhat familiar car.
A total jerk who gets out of that somewhat familiar car, looks around, and yells, “Where’s the bastard?” in a very manly and affronted manner.
Oh no. It can’t be. I’m having mirage hallucinations, like in the movies. Fraser’s going to turn around in full on Lawrence of Arabia clothing, with a camel next to him and a palm-tree-sheltered oasis rippling behind him. Then he’ll light a campfire, lay out a rug, and make love to me on the burning desert sands.
Also, Justin is in this mirage as well. That’s awkward.
“Fraser, let’s park first!” he shouts. Then he looks across the lot, and locks eyes with me. After that, he takes off running, heading towards his sisters with wide-open arms and a back that’s already sagging with relief. We don’t do Brightman sibling trips nearly often enough. It’s fun. “You’re all right.” He wraps Lily up in a bear hug, then brings me into the huddle. “Em, I’m glad you got here.”
“Likewise.” With a squeeze, I separate us as Fraser comes strolling up. In the time it’s taken for the sibling reunion, he’s parked and shut off the car. He hasn’t taken off his jacket, or his tie. Even in the murderous heat, he’s ready to look like an uptight, ramrod straight gentleman. God, it’s so infuriating.
God, it’s so sexy.
We look at each other a minute, size each other up. My heart squeezes into my throat, and the tips of my fingers tingle. This is where I should say something, like ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Please forgive me’ or ‘Take off your jacket it’s like a zillion degrees don’t be a martyr.’ His dark hair still curls right in front of his eyes, in that devilishly alluring way. His chin hasn’t seen a razor in a day or so—scruffy, just the way I like it. Right now, not touching him is like not breathing. Granted, it’s kind of hard to breathe right now because Lily squeezed my ribcage a little, but you get my meaning.
“So,” I say, licking my lips.
“Mmm.” His stoic reply. Then Fraser turns back to Justin. “Where’s Gavin’s room?”
“I was taking Lily up there to get her things.” Uh, hello. Adult woman standing next to you, yearning to be in on the conversation.
“You don’t have to subject her to that.” He rolls his shoulders, like he’s loosening up for a fight. “We’ll take care of him.”
As alpha male erotic as that just was, the idea of my brother ‘taking care’ of a sexual predator is beyond ridiculous. And also, Fraser Drake does not own me, or have to burden himself with defending me.
“How about I come along, just to do a leg sweep if you need?” Then, to Lily, I add, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“No.” She shivers. “I want my sweater right now.”
My sister gets what she wants. Fraser leads the way up the stairs, the steps creaking under the strain of his muscular physique. Wanting to bang someone whom you’re a little angry with moments before a possibly physical confrontation with another man isn’t something I would recommend to anyone. It confuses everything.
We reach room 208, and Fraser pounds on the door. The curtains are drawn, but a thin line of light tells us that someone’s inside. Besides, I see Gavin’s Cadillac parked downstairs; he hasn’t gone anywhere. A minute passes, with nothing. “Gavin, open this door,” Fraser booms. His dark eyes crackle with furious light. He is ready to throw down in the worst way. Justin, meanwhile, is looking from Fraser to the door with a look that reminds me of a golden retriever when his ball is thrown into a lake. ‘You don’t really want me to go in there, do you?’
Finally, the door creaks open. Gavin’s wincing as he stares out at us, and in only his bathrobe to boot. What a treat for us ladies. What a nasty, turd-like treat.
“Fuck do you want?” he slurs. From the way he speaks, the way he wobbles as he backs up, and the harsh, ripe smell of him, I get the impression he hit the motel minibar in the worst way. Indeed, a few mini Wild Turkeys have been scattered around the rug and in the corners of the room like the world’s most alcoholic Easter eggs.
“Lily’s clothes,” I say. He grimaces at me, and mutters something under his breath that I hope I don’t understand. Justin guards Lily’s back as she slips into her sandals, grabs her suitcase, and snatches up a few fallen garments. Gavin isn’t paying atten
tion to her, anyway. His focus is all on me, and I cross my arms to give him a good return helping of stink-eye. Fraser, meanwhile, is balancing on the balls of his feet. I can sense that one wrong move from Gavin, and he’ll lunge forward and strike. For a big man, Fraser can be pretty fast on his feet. Very lithe. Devastatingly lithe. Really, really, really sex, I mean lithe.
Gavin snorts. He must notice how my focus has shifted to Fraser. “Makes sense you’d go for someone without a personality, Emma. Yours is grating enough on its own. No need for competition.”
Fraser moves forward, but I grab him by the elbow. “Don’t dignify it with a response,” I mutter. Being undignified is my job in this quasi-relationship. “Gillian sends her regards, by the way. Sorry to let you know you haven’t been nominated for Father of the Year. Huge upset, I’m sure.”
Fraser looks down at me, a mixture of relief and bafflement on his face. It looks a little weird, like he’s about to sneeze, but then his eyes seem to…simmer. Relief wins, and it’s a beautiful sight. I swear, it’s like someone plucked a sack of invisible bricks right from his shoulders. “She told you?”
“Everything. Well, not everything everything. She didn’t take me on a blow by blow of your favorite foods, bands, fabric softeners…”
Fraser grins, lighting up those (smoldering, sexy) eyes of his. But not everyone is amused.
“The way you talk is fucking exhausting.” Ah, Gavin joins the conversation once more. He rubs his eyes and musses his hair even more. Poor, drunk asshole. “I’m lucky I didn’t get to fuck either of you. What a bunch of whiny cunts.”
I’m about to volley back something sharp and biting, something like ‘so’s your Mom’ or ‘fuck you sideways,’ but it turns out that Fraser’s ready to get a lot more physical than I am. He stalks forward, fists balling at his side. He’s a tall, imposing man at the best of times, but he seems to somehow grow taller with every step. Remember Gandalf in the first Lord of the Rings movie, when he yelled at Bilbo and just shot to the ceiling? Think that, but with not so good lighting and a much hotter leading man. Sorry, Ian McKellen. It’s true.
