The Landry Family Series: Part Two

by Adriana Locke

  “Camilla Jane!” Her jaw drops open. “That’s no way for a lady to talk.”

  “This is also no way to be treated,” I volley back.

  “They’re just worried about their little sister. You can’t blame them.”

  “Oh, I can.”

  She sits back in her seat, getting a new strategy together. It’s the look in her eye, the way the greens flare through the blues that has me forcing a swallow.

  “I had a chat with Ford yesterday after the baby announcement. He’s worried, Camilla.”

  “I give up,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “I see now why Sienna wants to move to Illinois.”

  “That isn’t nice.”

  “This isn’t nice either! Don’t you see?”

  She ignores me. “Ford hinted that the boys want to call up Nick Parker—”

  “The private investigator?” I cry, recognizing the name from Barrett’s campaign. “Mother!”

  “I told him not to,” she promises. “I said that was a step too far.”

  “You think?”

  “But, honey, you’re going to have to let us meet him.”

  She sips her water, the lemon a bright spot as it gets flipped below the ice. I focus on that and not the impending doom that’s burrowing in my gut, making the Cobb salad I just ate threaten to come back up.

  “I want you to know,” Mom says, wiping her lips with a linen cloth, “that I trust your judgement. If you like this man, then I’m sure he’s an admirable person.”

  “I do like him.”

  “Do you love him?”

  It’s easier to ponder this question in the privacy of your own mind. There, you can answer or not, tell the truth or not, shove it off to the side if you prefer while you go do something else. It’s impossible to consider this question sitting across from the one person that can read you like a book.

  “Camilla?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then you don’t,” she says simply. “If you love someone, you know it.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, Mom.”

  “Honey,” she says, her bracelets jingling off the tabletop as she leans forward, “love is always complicated.”

  “I said I didn’t know. You said that means I don’t.”

  She smiles. “Can I give you some advice?”

  “You’re going to anyway.”

  “Your brothers are overbearing. I know that. Your father can be too. But don’t let them sway you to or from someone that makes you happy. Okay?”

  My eyes drop to the table, my stomach churning. “What if … what if no one will like him? What if they even hate him or don’t understand him?”

  “Is he nice to you?”

  “Yes,” I say immediately, looking up at her.

  “Does he make you smile?”

  My lips turn up. “Yes.”

  “Is he respectful? Is he loyal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then your brothers will come around,” she says. “And if they don’t, you’ll have to tell your mom. I hear she has some pull. Most of them have wives now too that can help keep them in line.”

  Although I’m still not sure this helps anything or only confuses me more, I stand and walk around the table. Wrapping my arms around her, I squeeze. She smells of expensive perfume and the warmth of home. “Thank you,” I say against her cheek.

  She pats my arm. “I do want you to think about introducing him to someone. Me, Ford, Graham—”

  “Graham?” I say, pulling back. “Let’s just ask for his tax returns and background check while we’re at it. He’ll make him think it’s an interview for a job!”

  Mom laughs, pushing away from the table. “It is, in a way. If he’s serious about stepping into your life, your brothers … and your father and I,” she says pointedly, “will expect a certain level of responsibility.”

  We gather our things and head for the elevator. I admire the way she almost glides through the room, waving discreetly at certain acquaintances.

  “Mom?”

  “What, Camilla?”

  I rest my head on her shoulder as we stand behind a handful of people for the elevator waiting for the button to ding. “Why couldn’t you have had Sienna and I first?”

  “We had to save the best for last.” She turns her head until she’s looking at me and winks.

  “Good point.”

  The Gold Room sits in front of me in all its non-glory. I didn’t mean to come here specifically. When I left Mom in the parking lot of Picante, I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to call my friend Joy and see if she wanted to head to yoga or go shopping. All I wanted was to see Dominic. Maybe I even needed to see him, but the thought of that makes me lightheaded.

  Now I’m here. Biting my lip. Fighting the rumble in my gut.

  If needing to see him makes me lightheaded, seeing him here, at the bar, makes me downright dizzy.

  Looking from the half-lit sign to my phone, wondering if I should call him first and warn him or just walk in, I refuse to bite my freshly painted nails even though I want to gnaw them off.

  It could very well be counterproductive to think showing up here will satisfy the craving I have for him. The Gold Room is off-limits to me. Yet, here I am.

  “You’re stupid,” I mutter to myself, grabbing my purse off the passenger seat and locking the car door behind me. I garner a whistle and a lewd offer before I can get to the heavy front doors. It takes a little more effort than it should to pull them open and step inside.

  The bar was probably the place to be at some point before I was born. There are traces of its past elegance in the trim, the molding, the layout of the space. It’s almost regal, like some of the old restaurants my parents frequent. This is just less cared for. It smells salty, kind of like body odor but not quite as offensive, and could use a good “air out,” as my mother would say.

  “Who the hell is that?” A man at the end of the bar slams his drink down, looking at me with a wobbling swagger.

  “That’s a broken jaw if you don’t check yourself,” Nate says, coming around the corner. With a thump on the counter in front of the man, making him jump, he calms me with his bright, wide smile. “What are you doing here, Priss?”

  His nickname for me, short for Prissy, bothered me when he first began using it. Now it’s almost a term of endearment. If he stopped calling me Priss, I might be offended.

  “Oh, just in the neighborhood,” I say, sighing for effect. “Is Dom around?”

  Nate’s lips press together as he tries to hide a grin. “Is he supposed to be?”

  “He said he was coming by,” I shrug, chewing my bottom lip.

  “I’m guessing he doesn’t know you’re here,” he smirks.

  “You would guess right, sir.”

  Nate runs his hands through his dark hair that’s the exact color of Dom’s, but cut closer to the scalp. He shakes his head, clearly amused that I’m standing in his bar. He heaves a breath and blows it out slowly.

  “Are you going to help me or not?” I laugh.

  “Fine,” he sighs. “Dom’s in the back.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s just looking over some papers for me.”

  “Papers, huh?” I prod. “You don’t know how to read or what?”

  His eyes light up as I poke at him, the easiness of our semi-friendship making my nerves settle just a bit. Nate and I have gotten along since the day he showed up with his little boy unexpectedly at Dominic’s. He’s a handful in a lot of ways—loud and a little sharp sometimes—but he’s kind. And when he’s with Ryder, he’s downright amazing.

  “I don’t know how to read this shit,” he blushes. “I got some papers from the bank on a loan and he’s making sure nothing looks off to him. They speak a complete other language in the banking world.”

  My heart drops as I realize what he’s saying. “Dom told me you were going through a rough patch. Can I help?”

  “You sure can. Let hi
m finish looking at those papers before you wind him up,” he winks.

  “I’m serious,” I say, shoving him playfully. “If there’s anything I can do, tell me. I’d love to help.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He says that, but the look on his face says differently.

  “I mean it, Nate. If you and Ryder need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Priss,” he says softly, “but we’re gonna be fine. This is life. We’re tough.”

  “Of that I have little doubt,” I smile. “Dom said you guys are moving in with him.”

  “Just for a while. I’m getting a loan for ten grand, but it’ll take a couple of months to go through. Until then, I’m just eliminating a few bills that I can.”

  “The ten grand will bail you out?” I ask.

  “And then some. I know how to manage money. I just got hit with a few big unexpected expenses,” he tells me. “Plus, I want to make this place nice again. Build something Ryder can be proud of his old man for one day. Something my brother won’t go nuts about when he sees you’re here,” he says, making a face as he takes a step, then two, backwards towards his customers. “Speaking of, head on back to the office. You know where it is, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll watch you from here.” He leans against the bar, cocking his head towards the man he threatened earlier. “Hurry up before I have to break Joe’s neck here.”

  With a little wave, I ignore the stares of the patrons lined up on stools like drunken ducks and make my way to the back. A door is tucked away with a gold plate that has lost the lettering that once embellished it. I knock gently, but can’t hear Dom’s voice on the other side over the sound of some classic rock song from the jukebox.

  “Dom?” I say, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  My face burns in part embarrassment, part anger at the sight before me. Dom is sitting with a pile of papers in his hand and his feet kicked up on a rickety wooden desk. He’s not looking at the papers though. His attention is on a red-headed girl sitting on a love seat that’s looking at him like he just stepped out of the heavens.

  “What are you doing here?” His head snaps to me as he sits up, the papers splashing across the desk. The lines that mar his forehead tell me everything I need to know.

  This was, as I feared, counterproductive.

  “I, um,” I stammer, clearing my throat, “I thought I’d drop by. I didn’t know you’d be busy.”

  Glancing to my right, I see Red with the corner of her lips curling into a bitchy smirk. If I knew how to throw a punch, I’d land one in the middle of her too-pink pucker.

  “I’m not busy.” Dominic leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I just didn’t expect you. Here.”

  He’s unhurried, like he doesn’t even realize Red’s here. Like it’s not bothering me at all that another woman was alone with him and I just walked in. That annoys me. Big time. But if there’s one thing I learned from my mother, it’s not to let them see you sweat.

  Growing up, lots of girls weren’t nice to me and Sienna. Our sophomore year, in particular, was rough. We learned to say everything with a smile, to act unaffected. It takes the wind out of their sails. That or it makes them react and look like idiots.

  “You know what, I should’ve called. How thoughtless of me,” I say, pasting on a grin. Turning to Red, I extend a hand. “I’m Camilla Landry. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She pulls her drawn-on brows together and looks quickly at Dom before returning her gaze to me. “I’m Hannah. Nice to meet you?”

  We shake in an awkward maneuver before I adjust my purse and look at Dom again. Plastering on as pleasant of a smile as I can, I turn away. “I have some errands to run. You can call me later if you want.”

  “Cam.”

  “Yeah?” I say, looking at him over my shoulder.

  “Stay.” He looks at Hannah. “Wait for him out there.”

  “Nate said I could wait in here.”

  “And I just told you to wait out there.”

  “But …”

  He gives her a look I haven’t seen him give a woman before, just men that think they’re going to make him jump when he doesn’t want to jump. The blues in his irises darken, his lips pressing together. “Go on.”

  “Fine.” She looks at me with a smirk before turning to Dom. “See you at the gym tomorrow.”

  I keep the bored look on my face as she walks by and out the door. I don’t turn to look at Dominic for a moment, needing a few seconds to process this … that this girl can spend time with him here and while he trains. And I can’t.

  I wait for him to say something, to tell me she wasn’t here for him, but he remains quiet. Finally, I turn around. “Should I have called?”

  “No,” he growls. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Did I interrupt something between you and Red?”

  The question eases some of the tension in his face. “‘Red’?” he asks, fighting a laugh.

  “Yeah. Red.”

  “Okay. Red it is.” He leans back in his chair and takes me in. His dark hair is mussed from the gym, the front of his grey t-shirt stained from sweat. It’s sexy as hell and if I wasn’t borderline angry, I’d straddle him. “No, you weren’t interrupting anything. She was waiting on Nate because he’s fucking around with her.”

  “But not you.”

  “No, not me,” he grins. “Does that bother you?”

  “What?”

  “The thought of me fucking around with her?”

  “No,” I lie, fidgeting with my purse on my shoulder again. “You can do whatever you want.” He just sits there, leaning back in his chair, his muscled thighs tensing beneath the jersey of his red gym shorts, and doesn’t say a word. “You can do whatever you want, just like I can.”

  This gets his attention.

  His eyes swirl ferociously, his jaw pulsing as he works it back and forth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s not supposed to mean anything. Just stating facts. We’re free to do whatever we want.”

  He nods, uncrossing his arms from over his chest. “Come here.”

  Tossing my purse where Red was sitting, I take the few steps to him. He spreads his feet wider, allowing me to stand between his knees. As soon as I’m in his personal space, I breathe a sigh of relief. This is what I wanted. What I needed. To feel the comfort that I only find when I’m with him.

  My shoulders sag, the expectations I’ve faced all day to be me, Camilla Jane Landry, are gone. I’m here, with him, and that’s enough. There’s no need to remember exquisite table manners or to choose my words thoughtfully. No need to remember the impact of my behavior on my family’s business or my brother’s campaigns. Dom doesn’t care about all that. If anything, he tries to provoke me to act out, which I resist but find entertaining.

  He looks up, assessing me. “You know I don’t like you coming down here,” he says, his gaze narrowed.

  “Why?”

  “You know why, Cam. This is no place for a girl like you.”

  “Red is here,” I point out, narrowing my own gaze. “Apparently she gets to be with you everywhere I don’t. You don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Let me reiterate what I just said: this is no place for a girl like you. And Red is in all these places because she’s fucking everyone … but me.”

  He has to notice the way my shoulders fall just slightly at his statement. He sits up, his knees pulling together and resting against the outside of my thighs. I can smell the sweet sweat on his skin and notice a small cut just above his eye that I want to inspect, but don’t.

  “I’m a big girl, Dominic,” I say, letting the last syllable click on my tongue. “I’ve been here before and nothing bad has happened to me. Hell, nothing bad has ever even happened in front of me here. It makes me wonder if there are ulterior motives for you not wanting me around.”

 
; “Damn it.” His palms rest against the backs of my legs, his hands splaying out against my skin. They’re extra coarse from the boxing gloves he’s undoubtedly been wearing and make me break out into goosebumps as he strokes up and down my thighs. “There is no ulterior motive. The reason I’m asking you not to show up here is self-explanatory. Look around,” he chuckles. “Why in the hell would you even want to come to this shit hole?”

  “I wanted to see you,” I say softly, draping my arms over his shoulders. “And you were here.”

  His face rests against my stomach. He nudges me towards him, pulling me tight against him.

  Leaning down, I press a kiss to the top of his head. My heart swells in this moment, in a way that I haven’t gotten to experience too many times with him. He doesn’t give in often. He’s not one for showing too much softness, and when it happens, it strikes some instinct in me to want to protect him from the world.

  “I thought about you today,” he says, still tucked against me. “I wondered how your lunching went.”

  “My luncheon went well.” I smile as I enunciate the proper word. “Too much food, but it was nice being with my family.”

  He squeezes me. “I want to spend some time with you tonight.”

  “I’m here.”

  “But not here.” He pulls away and looks me in the eye. “Nate’s working for a while, I think. Meet me at my place?”

  “Or we can go to mine,” I offer.

  “I need to go to mine anyway, and I don’t want to spend an extra thirty minutes going back and forth. I need to glance at this one more time, and then I’ll meet you there.”

  “Have you eaten?” I ask, brushing a damp lock of hair off his forehead.

  He smiles. “No.”

  “I’ll get you some food and then meet you at your place in a little bit.” Bending down, I cup his face in my hands and press a kiss against his swollen lips. “And I’m icing you down when we get there.”

  He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he likes it. “Get outta here.”

  We walk to the door. He whistles loudly through the bar, getting Nate’s attention. Without a word, they exchange directions. Dom squeezes my hip before disappearing into the office again.