It had been ages since an action as simple as making out felt so intense. High school? Had it ever? He couldn’t remember.
She worked a hand between them and moved it below his waist. When she cupped his cock through his jeans—a tentative, teasing touch—he jerked against her. If she decided to grip or stroke, he’d probably come right now.
Outside, evening traffic droned by. Garage doors opened. Neighbors chattered. None of it mattered but what was going on in here. He pushed her clothes out of the way and nibbled through the lace of her bra. Her light giggle spurred him on.
One of the neighbors sounded familiar, and damn their doors were loud.
“What the hell is going on here?” An older male voice shattered the mood.
Apparently this was about to be a lot more like high school than Andrew wanted. Susan back-pedaled several feet, yanking her top down as she moved. Her cheeks flushed from pink to glowing fuchsia in a blink. “Daddy. I thought you had work to do.”
“I needed some paperwork he left at home.” And that was Mercy.
Jesus-fucking-Christ. Andrew summoned a neutral expression, hopped to his feet, and turned to face the new arrivals. They stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the garage. They stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the garage—Dean Rice watching him with a touch of murder in his gaze, and Mercy frowning, arms crossed.
“We were talking. Celebrating.” Susan’s words ran together.
Mercy raised her brows. “Good word.”
“Get the hell out of my house”—Dean took a step forward, speaking between clenched teeth—“or I’ll have the police here so fast—”
“Dad, stop for a minute.” Mercy’s soft tone cut through the rage.
It was one of the rare moments in Andrew’s life he was at a loss for what to say. He wanted to swivel his head back and forth, watching the tennis match.
Dean didn’t look at Mercy when he replied to her. “I don’t have to like who you do business with, but you have no right to bring this filth into my home. Into our lives.”
“Hey now.” Andrew bit his tongue to keep I took a shower before I came over from slipping out.
Mercy blocked her father’s path. “Stop. We’re all adults here.”
Susan touched Andrew’s arm, and a jolt raced through leather and fabric and his skin. “Go. Please?” Her voice was soft.
He’d been wrong—he had no interest in hearing her beg again. Not like this. The simple request beat him down harder than any insult. He didn’t have a right to be hurt, but it dug deep that her first instinct was to push him away. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” He didn’t look at anyone, but turned and walked out the front door. What did he expect? He made it clear to Susan from the start—and as recently as a few minutes ago—they were friends at best. Acknowledging this didn’t ease the ache in his heart.
He wasn’t sinking into this hole. He’d asked for an impetus to keep them apart. This was it. Work waited, and that meant a lot of pussy to look at that wasn’t mired in things like family and daddy issues—he’d review those sites a different day.
*
Dad faced Susan, face red and scowl etched in stone. “Explain.”
She didn’t know what to say first. “I was happy. I got good news. He was here…” Crap, that came out wrong. Susan’s brain was so twisted in on itself, she couldn’t think. “I mean, I got a new job. Maybe. This wasn’t what it looked like.”
“What kind of job?” Despite the lilt to her dad’s words, anger radiated from him.
Mercy stood to the side, drumming her fingers against her leg and looking like she was struggling to keep her mouth shut.
“Teaching.” Uncertainty kept the entire truth from coming out. Like the where. “It’s not for sure yet, but I’m pretty close.”
“You haven’t graduated. Where are you going to teach without a degree?” he said.
Say the words. Tell him the truth. “It’s a private, charter kind of thing.”
“Not a reputable one if you don’t need a degree. What are they called?”
She looked at Mercy, as if she might find answers there. Mercy’s face was pinched with sympathy, but her only response was a shrug.
“Ballet West.” Susan forced out the words. “Their academy in Park City is about to open a position for instructor, and they want to talk to me.”
“I see.” His voice took on a level of calm she only heard when he was furious. “Get out.”
“What?” She was told this could happen, by two different people. That didn’t make the words easier to hear or believe. She misunderstood. He didn’t mean for good.
“You were warned. Leave the phone and the car keys. I paid for your clothes as well, but I don’t know what I’d do with them.”
Susan didn’t understand. “But… It’s a stepping stone. A reputable job that I love.”
“It’s prancing around like a fool, in practically nothing, and teaching other little girls it’s okay to do the same. Whoring yourself out, the same way your sister did.”
“Whoa,” Mercy said.
But Susan couldn’t let that go unchecked. “Melissa is not a whore. Neither am I. We’re not freaking—I don’t know—Quakers or whatever. Dance isn’t against your religion. This is a celebration of movement.”
“It’s not the dance I have a problem with; it’s the way you do it. The ideas you associate with it. The rebellion that led you to go against my request in the first place. Do you want to be a stripper at a sleazy club in Wendover?”
Susan struggled to believe this conversation was real, but that didn’t mean she’d flinch away from it. “They’re nice girls.”
“Definitely sweeter than some of those from church,” Mercy added.
“This isn’t a discussion. You won’t live under my roof if this is the path you’re going to take. Get. Out.”
“Stop.” Mercy’s voice grew in volume. “She’s not doing anything wrong. She’s your fucking daughter. You’ve only got the one left.”
Her meaning spread through Susan on a cloud of realization. This was breaking the tentative relationship Mercy finally had with him.
“She’s done everything wrong.” Dad’s words hollowed Susan out, leaving a painful vacuum behind. “Defied my requests. Mocked my beliefs.” He looked at Mercy. “What did you do? Sell her to your business partner, the moment I let you back in the house?”
Mercy looked at Susan. “Let’s go.”
He stepped in her path. “You wanted to have this conversation. Let’s have it. You threw a tantrum ten years ago and stormed out. Don’t discard Susan’s life too.”
“Excuse me? Wanting to think for myself is throwing a tantrum?”
“Being an unreasonable child is. I wasn’t going to say anything when that friend of yours showed up at your wedding; your associates are your business. Speaking of business—Ian’s clients are none of mine, until it impacts my revenue.”
Susan didn’t know what to say. The cold words chewed at her world.
Mercy wasn’t held back by the same doubt. Or any doubt, apparently. She stood toe to toe with Dad, anger flashing in her eyes. “Smut Central is my client. Not Ian’s. Remember the R in R&T? It stands for Rowe. Not Thompson. Not Rice. Andrew’s also a good friend. I trust him with my life, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”
Why wasn’t Susan saying these things? The words wouldn’t come.
“That’s your mistake. One of thousands, I’m sure.” Dad—Susan didn’t want to call him such a personal name right now. Mr. Rice?—didn’t back down.
Mercy’s smile looked twisted and dark. “Let’s talk about mistakes. We’ll ignore the one you’re making tonight. Why did it take so long for you to reach out to me? If you were sorry about the way things transpired between us, why did you wait until I was here for Liz’s wedding, to extend the olive branch? I begged you to talk to me, more than once. Liz has known how to find me since I left. There’s never been any mystery about my locati
on. And then, the first time you saw me in ten years, you insulted me. Days later, you wanted to make up?”
“You’re right; reaching out to you again was a mistake. You were dating someone respectable—finally. The only reason I asked Ian to put me in touch with you was because Susan wanted it, and I hoped he’d tempered you, so you wouldn’t exacerbate her condition.”
“My condition?” Susan didn’t know what else to do.
Mercy shook her head. “That’s nice. Real loving and caring. So this was never about making amends.”
“I’m proud of what you’ve done”—his words might have carried more weight at any other time—“but not the way you got here. I hoped with Ian, you’d grown up. Your sister is making the same mistakes you did, and my hope was you could teach her not to be stupid.”
Numbness set in. Susan felt a scab forming inside—a reaction to too much of an onslaught at once. “Do you hear yourself?” she asked. “You forced your own daughter out of the house, and now you’re going to do it again? Because we don’t conform to your standards?”
He looked at her. Or through her. This was worse. “Instead of helping you mature, she introduced you to that gigolo pimp she lets follow her around like a lost puppy. At the very least, Melissa has a career. You won’t have that.”
“Don’t you—”
“Shut up.” Susan cut Mercy off. She did what he’d requested, and left her phone and car keys on the bar. She didn’t trust herself to say anything else. She walked past her sister and the man next to her, out the door and through the garage, and stopped next to Mercy’s car. Cold air permeated her lungs. She wasn’t wearing a coat. Not that she cared.
“Hey.” Mercy settled a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I never wanted this to happen to you.”
Susan used the icy night to chill her words, but she couldn’t face her sister. “I know. It was my decision, and I made it, and I’m sticking to it.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.” Susan couldn’t hold back the tears stinging her eyelids and burning down her face.
Mercy hugged her from behind. “I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Nineteen
Susan overheard Mercy and Ian talking in hushed tones in the study, when she drew close. Hushed was a good word for the mood of the house tonight.
“I never thought it would come down to this.” Ian sounded frustrated.
Mercy was pacing. “I should have guessed, but after all the I’m sorry’s… it’s a bit of a blindside.”
That was one way to put it. The numbness in Susan had given way to a persistent ache. Her father didn’t want her. Twenty-one was probably too old to cry about things like Daddy kicked me out, but his reasons—those harsh words—hurt so much.
“If you want us to cancel their contract, we will,” Ian said. “I’ve questioned doing business with them for a long time, and this is one of those things I won’t tolerate.”
Mercy shook her head. “That’s business. You can’t confuse it with personal matters.”
“It’s both. They’re family businesses, and sometimes those lines have to blur.”
“I don’t know.” Mercy spat out the words. “I want to say it was an emotional moment, and things will be better once everyone calms down, but I’m done with him.”
Susan moved away from the doorway and into the shadows before they could see her. She pressed her back to the wall and slid to the floor. This sucked.
“Come here.” Ian’s voice filtered into the hallway. “I kind of hate you found him to help pick up the pieces last time this happened, and I wasn’t there to stop you from running so far away.”
Mercy’s chuckle mingled with a sigh. “He’s got a name. There’s no way you’re jealous of Andrew.”
“Nope. I wouldn’t trade you for all the pictures of naked women in the world. But my point is I’m here this time, whatever you or Susan need.”
“You’re such a sweet-talker.” Some of the stress vanished from Mercy’s voice.
A spark of jealousy flashed through Susan, and she made her way to her room before she had to hear more. It must be nice to have that kind of love.
Susan considered reaching out to her brothers or other sister. She nixed the idea moments after it surfaced, based on the cruelty they directed at Mercy when she left home. Only one of them forgave her when she came back into their lives, and it was a more tentative truce than Mercy shared with Dad.
Night blurred into morning, punctuated by restless sleep and struggling to process how she’d been tossed out of her childhood home as if she were a stray cat, rather than her father’s daughter.
Susan poured a glass of juice, trying to figure out what to do with her sudden free time now that she was out of a job. Call the various dance studios back. Make sure they had the house number here, to get a hold of her. Fortunately, her contacts were associated with her email, so she didn’t lose everything when she surrendered her phone.
“Hey.” Mercy wandered into the kitchen, Ian behind her. They were dressed for work. “How are you holding up?”
Susan gave her a thin smile, not able to put her feelings into words. She handed Ian the juice when he reached for it.
“After work, I’ll take you to pick up a new phone and some stuff to wear, until we can get your clothes back. Feel free to raid my closet,” Mercy said.
“Thanks. But I’ll pay you back, I promise.” Susan hated that she couldn’t fend for herself. No job. No money. No car. She was lucky she had some family.
Ian finished his drink, then rinsed the glass and set it in the sink. He tossed Mercy her car keys, from the pegs near the garage door. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Save your money—whatever you’ve got from your last paycheck. Stretch it out while you can.”
“I didn’t get a paycheck. Like ever. I was an intern.” She realized now how stupid the words sounded.
“You what?” Mercy’s voice rose.
Anger flashed across Ian’s face. “You weren’t an intern, because you’re a Fine Arts major, not a Business student. He never paid you?”
Susan shook her head, staring at the tiles on the counter.
“That answers that question,” Ian said. “I’ll talk to Legal today. See how quickly we can terminate their contract.”
Susan hated the idea, though she liked the sentiment. “No. You can’t hurt your company just because of me.”
Mercy nudged Susan’s fingers, to draw her attention. “We would. Just because of you. But the only reason we haven’t booted Rice Real Estate before now is because they’re an old client. They don’t do TV, or internet. Doesn’t matter that Dad is worth billions; he’s not spending it on advertising. His company is such a teensy drop of our revenue, it won’t matter.” She looked amused saying those words. “Besides, if we found out they were doing this to anyone, we’d dump them. It happens faster because there’s bad blood.”
“Liz mentioned a few days ago she’s got an opening for an assistant, if you’re interested,” Ian offered.
Getting a different job—the thing that cost her all of this. “I have interviews lined up from before. But if they don’t pan out…” Then again, teaching dance a couple nights a week wouldn’t pay the bills. It was winter break, so she had time to formulate a plan before she went back to school. Was she going back to school? Not if she couldn’t pay for it. Could she do anything for herself? She slouched back against the counter in frustration.
“How are you holding up?” Mercy asked again.
“I don’t know. How long did it take before you could shake it off?”
“You don’t want that answer.”
“I’ll ask Andrew.” Crap. She owed him an apology too. Mercy stood up for him; Susan whimpered while Dad tore everyone apart.
Ian arched a single brow. “Mercy, do you want me to tell KaleidoMation you’ll be late or that you can’t make it today?” He sounded concerned, not irritated.
Mercy looked at Susan.
“Go,” Susan said. “I’ll be fine.”
“It took a long time, but it helped that I didn’t have to do it alone. Neither do you.” Mercy gave her a quick hug. “See you tonight.”
Susan’s mind tripped over everything, replaying the fight with Dad until she might scream. She couldn’t make it stop, though. Not through the shower. Or getting dressed—she was fortunate she had some clothes here. Or eating something for breakfast that said it was oatmeal, but might as well have been sawdust for as much as she tasted it.
It took a couple of hours to find the motivation, but eventually she forced herself to sit down in front of a computer in the study and log into her accounts. The first few calls she made, she grinned through gritted teeth to sound pleasant, but the acting sank in, helping to mask some of the chaos raging inside.
*
Andrew was bothered by how hard it was to get Susan out of his head. But it was because he was worried. Now that some of the blood had flowed back to his brain and he was thinking more clearly, he saw she made a reasonable request last night. After he grabbed two minutes of Mercy’s time in the office, to get a brief what happened after he left, he wished he’d stuck around and decked Dean Rice.
What Mercy didn’t say, the unspoken details reflected in her eyes, worried him as much as the news Dean had made good on his threat to evict Susan. Thoughts of her distracted Andrew the rest of the morning—story of his life since he got here. It would be nice to get back home, where he actually got work done.
The thought pinged in his chest, and he shook it aside before knocking on Mercy’s front door.
The Susan who answered looked different from what he was used to. Her hair drooped, rather than the spikes she preferred, and her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey.” She leaned against the door, rather than inviting him in. “What’s up?” Her voice was flat. That was worse than her asking him to leave.
“Mercy told me what happened. Sort of. I have a little more of a flexible schedule than most people, so I wanted to check on you.”
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