Dare to Lie

by Jen McLaughlin

  He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me.

  I continued, even though this was easily the most awkward conversation I’d ever had in my life . . . if you could even call it a conversation. “If I do my job right, maybe I could actually leave a mark on the world. A good one. I think we need a little bit more kindness, so I’m going to try my best to help.”

  He blinked at me.

  Scotty’s iPhone buzzed twice, and he picked it up off the table, frowned even more—which I didn’t think was possible—and set it down without answering. I waved a hand toward it. “Please. Text whoever it was back. You should talk to someone tonight.”

  And that someone clearly wouldn’t be me. He was determined to be an asshole, and he was succeeding. Such a pity, since my hopes had originally been high. He initially seemed like a down-to-earth guy, and there had been that undeniable desire I felt for him, too. I’d hoped . . .

  It didn’t matter what I’d hoped.

  All night long, he’d treated me like an obligation, and nothing more. He’d barely looked at me. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It can wait.”

  “Wow. Three whole words in one sentence.” I widened my eyes. “Are you sure you meant to say that much? You can take it back if you’d like.”

  He stared at me, a muscle in his jaw ticking, and remained silent.

  Of freaking course.

  Sighing, I picked my wine up, finishing it. “You know what? You can go now. I free you from your charitable duty.”

  He cocked a brow, shifting in his seat. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Dead serious.” I set my empty wineglass down. “You’ve been a complete and utter ass to me this whole night, and you’re clearly determined to not like me, for whatever reason you’ve secretly decided upon. Maybe I’m not good enough for you, or maybe you don’t like my brother or the way he treats his employees. Whatever the reason, the second you heard my name, you decided not to like me, which is fine. I’ve been dealing with people not liking me because of who I am, and who I’m related to, for more years than I’d like to admit.”

  He blinked. “Why would people not like you?”

  “Not everyone likes my brother, or the fact that he came up in the world from nothing through ruthlessness and a little bit of manipulation. They often paint me with the same brush, but with you, I thought it would be different. It’s sad, because when we met, I thought . . .”

  He leaned in. “What did you think?”

  “Does it really matter?” I asked, holding a hand up in question. “You clearly want to go, so go.”

  Instead of leaving, he reclined in his seat, eyeing me with more interest than he’d shown all night. “What did you think?” he asked softly.

  “I thought you were like me,” I said honestly, letting out a frustrated breath. “When I looked up at you, I saw a man who was alone in the world, but who was trying to make it better somehow. I saw a guy who acted like he was expected to, but who was different underneath. I thought you were kind, and brave, and interesting, and I wanted to know more about you.” I gave him a quick glance, shrugging. “But instead, you treated me as if I was an annoying nuisance. I thought you were a man who would give me a chance, instead of brushing me off as a social-climbing bimbo with rocks for brains, but I guess I was wrong about that.”

  He sat up straight, clearing his throat. “You got all that after talking to me for a minute?” he asked, his Southie accent more pronounced.

  “Like I said before.” I shrugged. “I’m good at reading people . . . usually.”

  He winced, and rubbed the back of his neck. “You weren’t completely wrong. And I’m not a snob.”

  “Yeah. Sure you’re not.”

  We locked eyes, and my heart pounded hard against my ribs. For the first time since he found out who I was, he was actually looking at me. “I’m not from your world, and I’m not rich. I’m an intern who practically lives off ramen noodles. I have absolutely nothing to be stuck up about, sugar.”

  “. . . Oh.”

  “And I had no idea you got hate for having a brother like Tate,” he said, his voice low. “I know how that feels. My brother used to be a lot like him.”

  Something told me his brother wasn’t half as disliked as mine was. And that he wasn’t nearly so bad. “You didn’t ask me anything about myself, so why would you know?”

  “Look, I’m s—”

  “You can stop right there.” I held a hand up. “I didn’t say all that to make you feel bad for me, or for you to stay out of some misplaced sense of guilt. I prefer spending time with people because they’re interesting, not because they pity me. I was just being honest, because that’s who I am, and you asked me. But please. Go. I’ll eat my meal on my own, and I assure you I’m perfectly fine with that. In fact, most of the time I prefer it. I like being alone.”

  Maybe I could get some studying done while I waited for my food.

  That brow rose again. “Yet you bid on a date with me?”

  I shrugged. “I thought maybe we might get along. But you weren’t interested in finding out if that was the case, and I’m done trying, so you can go.”

  “I’m sorry.” He reached across the table and closed a hand over mine. I stiffened. His palm was calloused and warm. It dwarfed mine. “You’re right. I’m being an asshole on purpose, but it’s for a good reason, not because I think you aren’t good enough for me.”

  His skin on mine was electrifying. I pulled away, putting my hand safely in my lap. “Then why are you doing it?”

  “You’ve been straightforward with me, so I’ll give you the same honesty. I’m not a respectable guy, and I’m not going to leave a good mark on this world like you. Normally, I’d eat you up like chocolate mousse pie, and leave you naked and trembling in your bed for hours, but you’re my boss’s sister, so I really don’t want to mess with you and piss him off, because I’ll lose my job. The risk isn’t worth the reward. No matter how beautiful you are, I won’t touch you, because it’ll end badly for me. I’m selfish like that.”

  My mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “But if Tate wasn’t . . . ?”

  “I’d bring you back to my place, fuck you any way you wanted me to, as many times as you wanted me to. I’d make you mine in every way, lick every inch of your body, whisper hot, sweet words in your ear . . .” He dropped his hand, which had still been resting on the table, in his lap. “And then I’d walk away. I’d forget your name, and everything we talked about, and move on to the next girl, the next night, without a hint of guilt. I never sleep with the same woman twice. That’s who I am.”

  I held my breath, images of him “using” me until I trembled sending a surge of lust rolling through my body. Which was stupid, because he was literally telling me he had no interest in me besides sex. And yet . . . I didn’t really care. I’d never felt a hunger like this for a man before, and there was no point denying it. I generally didn’t bother with relationships, or the drama they brought, so I was consistently single.

  Wait, scratch that.

  My boyfriend was my studies, and getting straight As, and being the best in my class—that was my relationship. And I was good at it. At doing my best. It was the least I could do for my brother, who had done so much for me. He might not be a good man by most standards, but he was the best brother a girl could ask for.

  Acing medical school was demanding and didn’t leave much free time, so maybe Scotty offered me the perfect opportunity. I could have my fun with a man who was clearly accustomed to one-night stands, and then move on, knowing he wouldn’t want more from me than I was willing to give.

  No broken hearts. No hurt feelings. Just pleasure.

  “What if I promise not to tell him?” I asked softly, knowing I was putting myself out there, but really, what did I have to lose? “What if you show me the real you, the one I thought I saw, and I don’t tell anyone? B
ecause I have a feeling you’re exhausted from always pretending to be something you’re not. And I bet you never let your guard down. With me, you can.”

  He snorted, shifting on his seat. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”

  I pushed my hair off my shoulder, and he followed the motion, staring at me with heated eyes. But underneath that I saw a haunting emptiness, which explained the whole sleeping-around thing. In that moment, I was never more confident that I was dead-on with my reading of him. “I do, but feel free to prove me wrong. Actually talk to me, give me a real date with the real Scotty Donahue, without games or pretenses between us, and I promise not to tell my brother you were nice to me for one night.”

  He hesitated, rubbing his chin, staring at me. “I don’t know . . .”

  “What have you got to lose?”

  Sardonic amusement crossed his face, but he shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s start over, then.” He held a hand out, shooting me a small grin. “I’m Scotty Donahue.”

  Smiling, I slid my hand into his. “I’m Skylar Daniels. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he mumbled, pulling free. “Want to know a secret?”

  I leaned in, nodding, my heart picking up speed, because he was looking at me as if he saw all my secrets. “Of course.”

  “I don’t actually enjoy fancy restaurants, which is why I didn’t order anything to eat yet.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back to me. “I prefer red meat. Like . . . rare steak. Burgers. Fries. Mashed potatoes. Motherfucking beer.”

  The way he left the r off the end of beer . . .

  God, it was so hot.

  “They have steak here,” I managed to say.

  “With snails on it.” He shuddered. “I prefer my snails smooshed under my shoe.”

  A laugh escaped, but I tried to hold it back, so it ended up sounding like a snort-slash-choke. “Okay, then. Do you want to go somewhere else? Since we haven’t ordered yet.”

  “Also, I’m not big on fancy appetizers. I like my meal fast. No waiting. Sitting around a restaurant all damn night only makes it more likely you’ll be there when it gets robbed or shot up at closing.”

  I blinked. Robbed? “Where are you from that that’s what you worry about?”

  “Steel Row. South South Boston.”

  Suddenly, his statement made perfect sense.

  Steel Row was overrun by gangs. No wonder Tate warned him off. When my parents had divorced, my mother had gotten me, and my father had gotten Tate. They just split us up like we were possessions instead of family. Mom and I had been so poor, I couldn’t afford basic school supplies, let alone fancy dinners like this . . . while Tate had lived in a mansion.

  He’d spent the rest of his life trying to make up for that.

  Even though he wasn’t the one to blame.

  “Do you have an apartment there?” I asked slowly.

  “A house, actually.” He tugged on his tie and shifted on his chair. “It’s my old childhood home. I bought it back a year or so ago, after my brother . . .”

  I cocked my head. “After he what?”

  “Died,” he said simply. “He died.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I covered his hand, like he had done to mine earlier. His knuckles were hard, but the skin was smoother than his palms. “How did he . . . ?”

  “He got shot.” He locked eyes with me. “In Steel Row. Him and his girlfriend, Heidi. They were in their apartment, and there was a home invasion.”

  My heart twisted. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “I can.” He paused, swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob. When he looked at me, the pain in his eyes was raw. Real. It hurt. “I miss him every day.”

  Scotty blinked, almost as if he was surprised he’d offered that information.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine my life without Tate, no matter how annoying he is.”

  “Hopefully you won’t have to.” He leaned back in the chair again, lounging sexily. He stared at me from under his lowered lids, and the way he watched me—like it was only a matter of time until he saw me naked, no matter who my brother was—sent chills running up my spine. He picked up his wine and finished it. “Lucas lived a dangerous life, and in the end? It caught up to him, like it always does. Guys in Steel Row? We don’t live long.”

  “But you’re majoring in marketing. The most dangerous thing there is, what, a paper cut?”

  He stared at me for a second, then shrugged. “True. But even so. Life’s too short to mess around, so I’m sorry I was a prick to you. It’s not my style to play dirty.”

  I had a feeling that hadn’t come easy to him—that he wasn’t the type of man to say he was sorry lightly—so it meant even more than an apology from someone else would have. And something he said, about men in his town not living long, made it sound as if, despite his relatively safe career, he expected to be one of those men. I scanned my mind for something—anything—to say in response to that, and came up empty. So I settled for: “Do you actually enjoy long walks on the beach, or was that a lie, too?”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t know. Never really tried it.”

  “I see.” I stood, smoothing my dress over my thighs, and smiled at him brightly, even though my mind was still on his brother and the awful things that had happened to him. And I didn’t like that Scotty seemed to think he shared his brother’s fate. “Let’s go get some burgers and beer.”

  He laughed, grabbing my hand and trying to tug me back down to my seat. “It’s fine. I’ll find something on the menu.”

  “Life’s too short to settle, and I love burgers, too.” I pulled my wallet out of my purse. “Let’s pay for our drinks and ditch this joint.”

  He shook his head, pulling his own wallet out. “I’ve got this. You bought my company, which is a pretty shitty deal considering all you got was me, so the least I can do is cover the meal and our drinks. But are you sure?”

  I held out a hand for him, watching as he tossed down three twenties, which was more than enough for our wine and the tip. I felt bad that he was paying, but I sensed he wouldn’t appreciate me pointing out that I should pay, since I had more money than he did. “Absolutely. Let’s go get drunk at this lovely little pub I know. They have handcrafted Irish beer on draft.”

  He gave me a look, before laughing. “You’re gonna regret this. I can drink an alcoholic under the table . . . and have, several times.”

  “I’m tougher than I look.” I pulled my purse onto my shoulder. “I get that from my brother. He told me there would be plenty of people trying to knock me down, so I had to learn to stand tall, despite the blows. I took that advice very seriously.”

  He cocked a brow. “With drinking, too?”

  “Everything. I can take a good pounding, and walk away without limping.”

  A laugh escaped him, and he shook his head, rubbing his jaw as he tucked his wallet away into his pocket. His moves were always fast, and unpredictable, but somehow fluid and graceful. That didn’t seem to make sense, and yet it totally did. “Don’t say that ever again, please.”

  Wait. Why? I replayed the words in my head, then suddenly I knew why he’d laughed. God, I was such an idiot. My cheeks heated. “Deal.”

  He offered me his hand, still laughing. “Ready, sugar?”

  Fire flushed through my veins, making my blood boil and my pulse race and every nerve come alive—and all he’d done was smile at me and call me sugar. Scotty probably called all the girls sugar, but whatever. It was hot. His power over me was ridiculous, and scary, and thrilling . . . all at once. “Ready.”

  His hand closed over mine, and I sucked in a deep breath at the sensation of his skin on mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring down at our hands, brow furrowed, as he tightened his grip on me. Did he feel the weird charge between us, too? Or was I just hoping
it wasn’t one-sided? Yeah, given what he’d told me about his past and his inclinations, it was the latter. Right then, I had a feeling he was right. Someway, somehow, someday . . .

  I was going to regret this.

  But I was going to do it anyway.

  CHAPTER 5

  SCOTTY

  A few hours later, we stumbled down the street, both laughing hard at something Skylar had said. All night long had been like this. Ever since she called me on my shit, and I stopped acting like a dick, we’d been having a fantastic fucking time. I’d never felt so damn free before, which was stupid as hell, because I was with Tate Daniels’s baby sister, and if he knew I had my arm around her, holding her against my body like this, he would flip his shit.

  But I was having too much damn fun to care.

  I’d worry about Tate tomorrow.

  “And then he walked in, soaking wet, wearing his Gucci suit and leather shoes, hair dripping down his forehead, and calmly goes, ‘Did you happen to change the times on the sprinkler system without telling me?’” She burst into laughter again, pressing a hand to her stomach. “And I lost it. Just lost it. He looked so ridiculous, standing there, dripping all over the hardwood floors, in his work clothes.”

  I smiled, supporting her as she held on to me. The urge to pull her closer and hug her was strong, even though I never, ever hugged women just for the hell of it. Her amusement was contagious. But under all the smiles and the urges, there was an uneasiness settling in my gut that I tried my best to ignore. The stories she told me about Tate had shown me a whole other side to the man who was in control of the gang. In that world, he was hard. Uncaring. Cold. A killer. But with Skylar, he was a brother, first and foremost.

  There was no other way to put it . . .

  He reminded me of Lucas, and how he’d been with me.

  And that didn’t sit well.

  Lucas spent his entire life trying to take care of me. He became a criminal to ensure there was food on the table, and a roof over my head, and heat in winter. Every day, he went out into Steel Row, risking his life and compromising his honor, so I would be safe, simply because he was the one who was born first. He never complained. Never made me feel as if he blamed me for the way his life had turned out.