by Jayna King
Once Chelsea’s color returned to normal, she laid out the rest of her plan for the evening.
I interrupted her. “If Jax shows up at Tao, I’m gonna head home. I have some stuff I need to prep for my interview, and I’m just beat.”
“That’s fine. I know you’ve had a hell of a day.”
“Understatement.”
“So, why does it bother you so much that your dad’s going to run for office? I’d think you could benefit from his being in politics, given that you’re an attorney.”
“Whatever gain there might be won’t be worth the public notoriety.” I shook my head. “I know most people would love to have their fifteen minutes of fame, but let me tell you … it’s highly overrated.”
“Most people didn’t have to move in the middle of high school because their fathers went to jail, either,” Chelsea said, showing the empathy that made being her friend worthwhile.
“You have no idea how awful it was. Reporters and cameras on the front lawn. Paparazzi following me to school. It was horrible. They invaded my life, and I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“Surely your dad will walk the straight and narrow now, though. There shouldn’t be any real story there, right?”
“Even if it doesn’t last long, I’d guess that some reporter somewhere’s going to try to make a name on the scandalous news that a convicted criminal is attempting to return to his life in public service.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Maybe I should change my name,” I joked.
“If you hadn’t already taken the bar, that would be a great idea. Hey, I know what you could do,” Chelsea exclaimed.
“What?”
“You could marry Reed and take his last name.” She dissolved into giggles, and I stood up in amused disgust.
“Not funny. I have to pee.”
I walked to the bathroom, unable to get the image of Reed out of my head. He was impossible to forget. Tall, dark, sexy, tattooed, successful. Jesus, there was nothing not to like. Except for the obvious.
I was simply going to have to avoid him. I knew there was no way I’d manage to keep my hands off him otherwise. He clearly didn’t seem to have a problem with sleeping with his stepsister, but I knew it was more than I could manage. I had important things I needed to focus on, like landing a job and getting my career started off right. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by a piece of ass … even if it was a really nice ass.
When I got back to the table, I’d decided I was going to beg off the rest of the night. “I’m sorry, honey, but I just got a look at myself in the mirror, and I look as bad as I feel. If I don’t get to bed, I’m going to fall asleep on the dance floor, and that won’t be a pretty sight.”
Chelsea stood up and gave me a hug. “That’s okay. You owe me a visit, though. Dallas might not have as many clubs as Vegas, but I can still show you a good time.”
“Deal. Now you be careful, and I want a text when you’re getting on the plane. Don’t make me worry.”
I took the surprisingly fast elevator ride down to the casino floor of The Palms, leaving Chelsea in the capable hands of Jax. I climbed into a cab, checked my phone, and saw that I had two missed calls and half a dozen texts from Garrett.
“Shit.” I called him back after giving the cabbie his address. “Garrett, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about class.”
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Um, Ghostbar?” I winced and braced myself for his response.
“So not only do you blow off my class, but you do it to go to a club that was cool ten years ago. I feel double dissed.”
Trust Garrett to not only make me feel guilty, but also unfashionable. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I’ve had the most fuckawful hangover, and you just will not believe the day I’ve had. I told Chelsea I’d meet her for drinks on her last night here, and I just flat-out forgot the class. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t go. I’d probably have thrown up and embarrassed you, anyway.”
“Embarrassed yourself, more like.”
“Well, anyway, I’m on my way home. Chelsea will probably still be drunk when she gets on the plane in the morning, but I’m just done. I’ll be home in about ten minutes.”
“You going to tell me about this crazy day you had?”
“It’ll keep until tomorrow. Suffice it to say, it was full of weirdness. I need some sleep before I can even talk about it anymore.”
“All right, but don’t forget you have bootcamp class in the morning. And I will tell Seth not to take it easy on you.”
“Deal. See you there.”
Glad it was Garrett’s late night at the gym, I went home, got an enormous glass of water, put on my pajamas, and crawled in bed. I flipped on the TV, assuming I’d fall asleep within minutes, but when my third episode of Orange Is the New Black ended, it was official. I had far too much on my mind to get to sleep.
“Goddammit,” I said, throwing back the covers. If I wasn’t going to sleep, the least I could do was accomplish something productive. I grabbed my laptop from my desk and crawled back in bed. I went through my usual routine—email, Facebook, and CNN—before I got down to work. Skimming the biographies of the partners of the firm I’d be interviewing with, I made notes in another window. Though any job would be a good thing, this firm was one of my top three picks of all the firms in Vegas. They were big, but not too big; high-profile, but not too high-profile. The perfect spot for that rare attorney who wants a shot at spending an entire career at a single firm. That was my ideal goal. I knew I had what it took to make it to partner, and I was determined to see it happen.
I was looking at one of the slick, professional photographs of the entire team of partners, when I thought about Reed. Okay, I’d been thinking about him all night, but I kept trying to push the images of him from my mind. The problem was that it wasn’t just my mind that was preoccupied with him. His physical presence was so powerful that it made me feel flush, jittery, and turned on, all at the same time, even when I wasn’t thinking about having sex with him.
“Fuck it. I give up.”
I typed “Inked Las Vegas” into Google, and the very first link was to his shop. I took a deep breath before I clicked on it, knowing that looking at pictures of him and his work wasn’t likely the healthiest thing for me to be doing, but I did it anyway.
I was a little surprised. The website was very sophisticated, full of unique artwork and easy to navigate. He must have paid a lot for the site design, or he must know someone who was very talented. I clicked on the “Staff” link.
“Wow.” Reed had a seriously good-looking and stylish staff. There were links to all sorts of awards won by the artists who worked there, and the photographs of some of the tattoos were just beautiful. Ink had never been my thing, but I could see the appeal from the pictures. I let my mouse hover over the “Contact Us” button, while I thought about what I might write to Reed—not that I would, of course. That would be foolish, and I was not a foolish girl. At least not most of the time.
Before I could think any more about it, I closed the window, closed my laptop, and returned it to my desk. I needed sleep, and I needed to stop thinking about Reed. It couldn’t happen. It was a bad idea for lots of reasons, and I couldn’t think of a single reason for even considering seeing him again. Except, of course, the fact that I kind of liked him, and I found him attractive, and he seemed to like me as well. None of that could matter, though, I told myself as I turned off the light and hoped I’d dream of something other than my stepbrother.
6 -- Reed
It hadn’t been easy, but I’d done it, and I was damn pleased with myself. I pulled up along the curb in front of Garrett’s house and waited for Tatum to emerge. Getting her number from my mom had been the easy part. Talking Tatum into riding to Thanksgiving dinner with me—much harder. Figuring that she was just running a few minutes late, I scrolled through my new emails, and when I looked up, I saw Tatum leaning out of the front door, waving fran
tically at me.
“What’s wrong?” I called as I got out of the car.
She didn’t look happy. “I have a bit of a problem.”
I followed her through the door. “Smells amazing in here.”
“Unfortunately, the pumpkin pie smells better than it looks.” She led me into the kitchen. “Garrett’s cat got into the pie, and it’s ruined,” she practically wailed.
I could see nibble marks in the surface of the pie, and even a single orange paw print next to the glass pie plate. It took every bit of self restraint I had to keep from laughing, and I only managed because it was clear Tatum wasn’t amused. “That’s quite a mess you have there.”
“I know. I left it on the counter to cool while I was showering, and I had no idea that a fucking cat would eat pumpkin pie.”
“Can’t blame you there.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Well, since we’re due at dinner in half an hour, there’s no time to bake another pie.”
“Right.”
“Do you have any whipped cream?”
Tatum looked at me with a deliciously wicked grin. “I don’t know that there’s time for that, Reed.”
I could feel myself harden inside my jeans, and I wanted nothing more than to tear off the white cotton robe she wore and not come up for air until Christmas. But I had a feeling I could earn some brownie points if I could solve her pumpkin pie problem. “Go finish getting ready, and I’ll handle it.”
“What are you going to do?” Tatum looked suspicious, and I was trying to look at the deep V of her robe.
“Depends on what I find in your kitchen.”
“There should be pretty much anything you want, as long as it’s healthy.”
“Sugar and eggs?”
“Yup. Pantry’s next to the refrigerator.” She turned to walk down the hallway and stopped. “Can you really cook?”
“There’s not much I can’t do, Tatum, especially if I’m determined. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll have your problem solved.”
I’d noticed the KitchenAid mixer on the counter, and I knew that meringue would be much more stable than whipped cream. I know it takes most people by surprise when they find out a tattoo artist likes to cook, but I have a monster sweet tooth. I can’t help it if I like dessert, and if I’m gonna eat those calories, they’d better be good. I separated three eggs, discarding the yolks, and put the whites in the bowl of the mixer, adding some sugar, putting on the whisk attachment and turning the mixer on low, just to get the sugar started dissolving.
I poked through the cabinets, found a large saucepan, filled it halfway with water, put it on the stove, and turned it on high. I warmed the egg whites and sugar while I whisked the mixture by hand over the saucepan of simmering water. After five minutes or so, I put the bowl back under the mixer, turned it on high, and let the KitchenAid work its magic.
Turning my attention to the ravaged pie, I smoothed out the top as best I could, scooping out the parts that had been touched by the cat. When the meringue was done, I spread it on the pie, broiled the top to brown it, and when Tatum emerged, I had a perfectly browned, glossy meringue-topped pumpkin pie on the counter. I was loading the dishes into the dishwasher when she saw it.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me. That’s gorgeous.”
“Nothin’ to it,” I said, knowing exactly how impressive it looked. “No one will ever know the difference.”
“I think you may just be the perfect man, Reed.”
“Well, perhaps we could discuss that over drinks after dinner?”
“I don’t know. I still feel like it would be a huge mistake to get involved with my stepbrother.”
“Suit yourself.” I wasn’t going to beg her. I did have every intention of convincing her, though. I could be patient when necessary. Tatum didn’t stand a chance.
“You ready?” she asked.
“I am. And you, by the way, look gorgeous.” She really did. She wore a sheer peach-colored top over tan skinny pants with a subtle gold sheen. With her blonde hair and the tan she was acquiring in Las Vegas, she was like a golden goddess. As she slipped on wedge sandals, I couldn’t help but think about peeling every article of clothing off her.
“Thanks. My dad might be in a suit, but it’s ridiculous to get that dressed up for a family dinner at home.”
“Is he really going to be dressed up?” I asked, alarmed. “I mean, I’m still wearing jeans, but I like to know what I’m walking into.”
“I never know. He just always seems ready for an interview, even if it’s a Sunday football game.”
I looked at the clock. “We should hit the road.”
Tatum picked up the pie and walked toward the door.
“That looks good enough to eat,” I said as she walked by.
She turned to look at me. “Well, now it does, thanks to you.”
“I wasn’t talking about the pie,” I answered, looking at her ass.
“Quit it, Reed,” she said as I pulled the door closed behind us.
I opened the car door for her and held the pie while she got settled.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an electric car kinda guy,” she said when I got behind the wheel.
“Well, this ain’t exactly a Prius, sweetheart. A Tesla’s a whole different category of car. It’s the most beautiful machine I’ve ever driven.” We pulled away from the curb, and I watched as Tatum looked around the interior.
“It’s a gorgeous car, for sure. My Jetta has been great, but I’m so ready to buy something new.”
“What are you looking at?”
“Oh, I won’t even go to a dealership until I get a job first. I can’t pay bills with my good looks.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said under my breath, looking at her long legs stretched out in the passenger seat.
“I thought for sure I’d have found something by now.”
“Any promising leads?”
“Yes. I’m just frustrated though. I wanted to walk in, interview, and be offered a job the same day. The trouble is the firms I really want to work for appeal to every other attorney in the state. At the interview I had a few weeks ago, they told me I was one of nearly a hundred qualified applicants.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize it was that competitive. I thought the tattoo biz was bad.”
“Vegas has a bit of a lawyer glut, as it turns out.”
“What are you going to do if you can’t find something?”
“Not to sound arrogant, but I will find something. I know I will. I just wanted it to happen more quickly than it is.”
“Confident is sexy, Tatum.”
“I seem to recall having thought the same thing,” she said, giving me a sidelong glance that made me want to pull the car over. “So anyway, changing the subject from my unemployed status, what do you think about my dad and your mom?”
I hadn’t seen Tatum in the couple of weeks that had passed since the bizarre lunch we’d shared with our parents, and when I’d called her to ask if she wanted a ride to dinner, I’d expected her to turn me down—not that it would have discouraged me. I’d given things a lot of thought, and I’d decided that I was going to have her one way or another. Once I set my mind on something, I’m impossible to distract. The fact that she was in my car made me think she might be easier to convince than I’d expected.
“The whole thing’s just weird,” I said. “I mean, they seem pretty happy, and I think mom looks like she’s doing better than she ever has. I mean, she seems pretty … healthy, I guess, physically and mentally. I didn’t think I’d ever see her quite this settled.”
“Has she been married before?”
“Yeah. Once. That didn’t work out so well. The guy seemed okay at first, but the day I came home and found her with bruises that I knew had come from him, I kinda lost control. He had me arrested. Not a good scene.”
“Your stepfather had you arrested?”
“Yeah. They ended up just going their
separate ways and the charges were dropped. I was still a minor, and probably nothing would have come of it, anyway, but Mom was worried about me having a record. It was one of the few things she was worried about. She wasn’t exactly a model parent while I was growing up.”
“Yeah, I’ve gathered that. Sounds like she was the opposite of my dad, at least as far as the appearance of a happy family goes. Everything seems to be a big publicity stunt. I have to tell you, I’m seeing some of his old behaviors resurfacing. I think he might try to run for office again.”
“Really? Why would he do that? He’s making a shit ton of money. What more could he want?”
“God, it’s like a sickness with him. He craves the attention, and he doesn’t care whether the other members of his family want the limelight or not. It’s what he lives for.”
I laughed, and I could hear the bitterness in my voice. “Well, he’s met his soul mate, then. Mom is the original attention whore.” I stopped the car to give my name to the guard and pulled away slowly. “So you really resented all of the publicity you had to deal with when you were younger?”
“You have no idea what it was like, Reed. I wanted nothing more than to be able to finish high school here with all my friends, but it just got to be too much. I couldn’t leave the house without reporters following me. It was horrible.”
“Sounds like it.”
“The only good thing was that I really enjoyed living with my mom. She moved to Texas when I was fourteen, after the divorce, and I chose to stay here to be with my friends. I think I was mad at her for leaving my dad, but when I got a little older, I realized why she did. He’s not an easy man to live with.”
Something about the way she said it worried me. “Did he ever hit your mom?” I asked, hoping she’d be honest with me. I wasn’t exactly close to my mother, but there was no way I’d let a man lay a hand on her. Not again.
“Oh God, no. He’d never do that, if only because he wouldn’t want it reported in the news.”
I looked over at her, questioning whether I believed what she was telling me. “You’re sure.”
