“Oh, come on.” Clayton pouted.
“Leave him alone, Clay,” Trey advised. “Look, you two can tag up on me. We’ll do sharks and minnows.”
Clayton stared at Travis for another few seconds and then turned away, his shoulders drooping. “You gotta be the shark. The whole time. It’s only fair cuz you’re so big, Dad.”
* * *
It only took thirty minutes of that to wipe them out.
Ressa had to give them credit.
She helped Neeci change out of her suit in the cute little outbuilding Trey had offered them, and then, after dodging behind the door her cousin had left wide open, she rolled her eyes and changed into her clothes, a pair of denim capris and a shirt with cutout sleeves that left most of her arms bare and dipped down low on her back.
Her hair had moved into disaster territory and there wasn’t much hope for it right now. She’d have to wash it tonight. For now, she tidied up the braid she’d twisted it into—she’d figured she’d end up getting wet anyway—and then she gathered up the clothes.
Heading out the door, she promptly crashed into Trey, hitting him with an oomph.
His hands came up to steady her.
“Sorry,” she said, grinning. “I think I left my grace at home today.”
His arm banded around her waist, pressing their lower bodies together. “Sorry . . . for what?”
“Pervert.” She wrinkled her nose at him and glanced around for the kids, but they weren’t outside.
“They went inside, hounding Travis to get them a snack since he didn’t have to change. Might as well make himself useful since he’s going to be a layabout for a while.” He glanced down at the bag of wet swimsuits and towels she held. “They might even be distracted for five minutes.”
“Not long enough,” she said loftily. Twisting out of his reach, she started up the brick walkway. “So . . . is he on vacation or something?”
“Or something.” Trey sounded resigned and took up pace next to her. “He’s got a weird job. Travels a lot. Lately, it’s wearing him out.”
Stay out of it. That was what her common sense said. Well, mostly. But in her gut, she knew that man wasn’t an accountant. Running her tongue across her teeth, she gave him what she hoped was a casual look. “So he’s an accountant, huh?”
“A forensic accountant.” Something that might have been pride crept into his voice. “We all razz him about it, but he does important work. It’s mostly white-collar stuff—he doesn’t talk about it, but I’ve researched that kind of thing. He always had a megabrain. He went and put it to use—has something to do with white-collar crime and that kind of thing.”
White-collar, huh? She thought of the grim look she’d caught on the other twin’s face a time or two, the knowledge. She didn’t think he’d caught that from doing a lot of white-collar shit. He looked like a man who’d carried some weight.
But she wasn’t going to point any of that out.
“I have to tell you this, I don’t really see you as wasting your brain.” She caught his hand, laced their fingers. “The books you write, what you do . . . it makes a difference. Books made a big impact on my life. You have to know that you do something important.”
“Well, I’m not saying it’s nothing. I went into it because books made a difference to me, too.” A faint grin curved his lips as he lifted her fingers to his lips. “Seems like the two of us have a lot in common there.”
“Don’t we just?”
* * *
Travis had a bad feeling.
He tried to ignore it, told himself it was because he was still on edge because of the fight with Trey last night.
But it wasn’t and he knew it.
It was the way Ressa watched him.
When he managed to pin her alone in the library, her hands behind her back as she studied the books lining Trey’s shelves, that feeling only intensified. He hadn’t made any noise but within seconds, she grew aware of him and her body went tense. Slowly, she turned her head and although she had a smile set firmly in place, her eyes were guarded.
“Hello.”
He inclined his head, kept his expression easy. “You should have seen this place before Mom got her hands on it in the spring. It was kind of scary.”
She just arched a brow.
“Trey’s a pack rat,” he offered helpfully.
“Is he now?”
“Yeah.” He came inside and paused in front of a shelf that held Trey’s favorites. He’d been sitting in the window seat with a beer when Mom came in here, armed with boxes and bags and a feather duster. Trey had been grim and accepting, until she’d turned on that shelf. It was the one time he’d ever seen his brother refuse Mom anything.
She wasn’t allowed to touch that shelf, and no, it did not matter that half the copies on that shelf were held together with tape.
But she’d cleared out a box that held duplicate copies—Trey hadn’t realized he’d bought that many doubles. She’d also found probably a thousand dollars in receipts he’d forgotten to turn over to his accountant, three checks he hadn’t cashed, and Travis had forgotten the rest of it.
She’d also convinced Trey to turn one of his empty rooms upstairs into a storage area for business stuff. Instead of author copies lining the floor in here, and bookmarks spilling out of boxes, they were neatly organized in that spare room.
“It used to look like a disaster zone.”
“I can imagine it did.” She shrugged and went back to studying the shelves. “He’s got interesting taste.”
As she pulled down a romantic suspense, a grin lit her face.
“Well, he overheard Mom talking to her friends about all the s-e-x in those. We were in high school . . . naturally, we weren’t allowed to read them. There wasn’t more you had to say to get him curious.” Travis shrugged.
“I see.” She glanced at him. “Did you read it?”
“Only the good parts.” He studied his nails. “I was too cool for the mushy shit, you know.”
“I bet.” Amusement lurked in her voice as she put the book back on the shelf. “So . . . you’re an accountant.”
He heard it in her voice.
Looking up at her, he saw it in her eyes, too.
“Forensic accountant,” he corrected. “It’s not exactly the same thing. So don’t go asking me to help on your taxes.”
“I figure I can handle them on my own.” She picked up another book. Poetry, this time. “Seems like you’re the black sheep in your family.”
“Seems that way.”
She didn’t say anything else as she flipped through a book. Keats, Travis noticed. He’d never been one for poetry.
She looked up at him for a long moment and then back down at the book.
Travis had the weirdest urge to just tell her. Which was insane, because he was used to keeping quiet. But . . .
“I know all about being the black sheep,” she said, cutting through his thoughts, her gaze still on the pages. “Had some . . . trouble, I guess you could say, when I was a kid. It would have been worse if it wasn’t for my aunt. And then of course I had to go and end up on my ass again, figure things out the hard way. Both my cousin and I, we probably broke my aunt’s heart. I straightened up. My cousin? Not so much. Some of us, I guess we can only learn things the hard way.”
She watched him now with a message in her eyes.
And she was all but challenging him.
Lifting a brow, he shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Sometimes the hard way is the only way to learn.”
“Maybe. Sucks, but I guess we all learn in our own way.” She put the book of Keats back and started for the door. Sliding past him, she went to go down the hall and then paused. Over her shoulder, she said, “I like Trey. A lot. Whatever you find, I hope you keep that in mind.”
Travis closed his eyes.
Son of a bitch.
Oh, yeah. She knew something.
She’d pegged him for a cop, he’d bet that in a heart
beat. He wasn’t. But she’d come a hell of a lot closer than anybody else ever had.
* * *
Her gut churned as she settled on the couch next to Trey.
She needed to round up Neeci and head home, but for some reason, she needed this.
No.
Not some reason.
Every reason.
All the reasons.
She’d seen it.
She was right. That man wasn’t an accountant any more than she was. Or maybe he had been one . . . or something. Undercover, maybe? She didn’t know. She was curious why he had his family thinking that was what he did. Not that it was any of her business.
The one thing that was her business was what would happen when Travis found out.
And he was going to look.
That was what his kind did. They nosed around, dug around, looked for answers.
Would he leave her alone?
Or would he tell Trey?
Maybe she should just tell him . . .
Wasn’t that one hell of a thing to drop into a conversation. So, baby . . . let me tell you this trouble I got into. My cousin and me, actually. You know, Neeci’s mama? You’re just going to love this. Shame and misery twisted in her and she had to fight not to squirm.
A series of giggles had her looking toward the TV and she smiled at the screen as she caught sight of one seriously beautiful man—being cornered by a couple of devious kids.
It was Sebastian Barnes, playing the role of a hardened military man who came home to find his brother’s kids orphaned and himself left with the job of raising them.
“He looks comfortable in that role,” she murmured.
“Yeah. He took it after he spent a couple weeks here with me and Clayton. Said he had more fun with kids than he’d thought he could. Of course, one of those kids almost made him go and get himself snipped,” Trey said, grinning. He toyed with her fingers as he spoke and the sight of that sent a pang through her heart.
“Yeah? A terror?”
“Beyond. According to Seb, the kid missed his cues, stepped on his lines all the time, and when they were doing those wrestling scenes you saw earlier? He actually kicked Seb in the . . .” He stopped and ran his tongue across his teeth. “Well. His shots were on target the first few times. Then Seb wisened up and started wearing a cup—the kid got mad when he hurt his foot and complained to his mother, who then complained to the director.”
She almost asked if he was joking, but judging by the smirk on his face, she knew he wasn’t. “And what did the director say?”
“He suggested the kid remember he wasn’t actually supposed to kick him. She wasn’t pleased, I’m told.”
“Wow.” Eying the screen now, she tried to figure out which one it was. He’d mentioned the wrestling, but it had been two kids on the lone adult. The ruddy cheeked, angelic looking boy who looked to be six or seven didn’t seem like a good fit. The only other option was the teenager. “Was it that older kid? Seems like he’d know better.”
“He did.” Trey lifted a brow as he turned to look at her. “It was the little kid. Apparently under all those golden curls, he’s got a set of horns. And his mom is one of the worst stage moms ever.”
“Stage mom?” She eyed him curiously.
Trey laughed. “Sorry. You’ve got normal moms—those who are just that . . . normal. Like our mom was. Even though Zach practically lived on set, and then later, Seb, and all of us were around it because of them, she made sure we had a normal life, or as normal as possible. Then you’ve got stage moms—the only thing that matters is the next part. Their child is the most important person on the set—even if it’s just a bit part and you’ve got Sean Connery acting next to them, that kid is everything and if makeup doesn’t kiss his ass, the world ends. We saw some crazy shit. Seb said he overheard this mom going after wardrobe because the kid ripped his jeans and they didn’t strip him onset to replace them.”
“That’s awful. I kinda feel bad for your brother,” she murmured, eying the angelic looking boy with new eyes.
“I don’t,” Trey said with relish.
“Why not?” she demanded, turning to look at him.
“Because Sebastian deserves it.”
“Does he ever,” Travis said as he came into the room.
She didn’t let herself stiffen as she glanced at him.
He settled in an armchair on the other side of the room. “Mom had to pop that kid’s bubble on a regular basis. Some people grow into their arrogance. Sebastian was born with it. And he was probably ten times worse than that kid and Mom was constantly reeling him in.”
“Yep.” Trey chuckled and the sound was more than a little diabolical. “Now he’s getting a taste of his own medicine. I bet it tastes really bad.”
“You are awful.” Shaking her head, she settled a little more comfortably against him and tried not to think about the fact that the other, quieter twin was sitting just a few feet away. He wasn’t looking at her directly, but she was all too aware of his gaze.
* * *
The side of the car was still warm from the heat of the day, although it was rapidly cooling down.
Not that she was cold.
Caught between the car and Trey’s body, she could barely think.
One hand tangled in the back of her shirt, the other spread on her neck while he used teeth and tongue to slowly destroy her sanity.
Moaning into his kiss, she clutched at his shoulders as the strength drained out of her. A dark, rough growl came out of him as she sagged back against the car and he followed, his weight pressing more firmly against her as he started to move, oh so slowly.
It was . . . devastating.
Her sex clenched and she could feel herself growing hotter, wetter in readiness. His cock was a heavy, thick brand and she rubbed herself against him. Half mad with the need, she found herself reaching for him, ready to tug his jeans open and shove her hand inside.
“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, catching her wrist and drawing her hand back.
Belatedly, she remembered. Where they were. What she was doing.
Neeci was in the car, asleep.
In the house a few yards away, Clayton was in the same condition.
And Travis—
That was a bucket of cold water in her face. Curling her fingers into her hand, she tugged free and turned her head.
Staring out at the street, she breathed slowly. After a minute passed, she said, “You make me lose my mind, Barnes.”
“Same goes.” He cupped her cheek, guided her face back until they were looking at each other yet again. “What’s wrong? Where did you go?”
“I didn’t go anywhere.” She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him close, giving him a wicked smile as she arched against him. “Why would I want to do that anyway?”
He rubbed his finger across her lower lip. “You’ve been disappearing half the day.”
“No, I . . .” Ressa stopped, heaved out a sigh. “It’s nothing, Trey. It’s just . . . that complication stuff.”
Observant eyes studied her. “You sure that’s it? Nothing I said? Did?”
“No.” She rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. In case that wasn’t enough, she pressed her lips to his, said it again. “No.”
She eased away, but he didn’t let her go far. “Then what is it?”
She laid her cheek against his. “It’s just . . .” She blew out a breath. “Trey, I just have stuff in my head. It’s not you, I promise. It’s just . . . all that complication stuff we keep talking about. We should probably have that talk soon.”
Tension held him tight as he turned his face into her hair. A moment or two passed before he spoke again. “Yeah, maybe so. Because this sure as hell isn’t going to get any less intense on my end.”
Something that might have been fear, might have been delight, twined through her.
“So. We talk soon.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I wish you
didn’t have to leave.”
“But I do. I need to get her to bed. We’re meeting Mama in the morning for breakfast. Besides, I don’t think you and I need to talk about spending the night with each other yet. At least not when there are kids around, anyway.”
She kept telling herself that as she drove away a few minutes later.
It was even the truth.
It didn’t do jack to untangle the knot inside.
And nothing could help with the bigger, uglier knot of fear that wedged itself deep into her gut.
“Stop worrying,” she told herself.
It wouldn’t do any good anyway. Wasn’t like she could change the outcome of anything.
Chapter Twenty-two
Whatever you find, I hope you keep that in mind.
Those words had managed to do two things—stir his curiosity and make him check her out. Travis hadn’t really planned to do much of anything, to be honest. He didn’t make a habit of digging around in the backgrounds of the people his brothers were dating.
Well, not right off the bat.
If somebody struck him as off? Well, then, that changed things.
Ressa, if it hadn’t been for the interlude in the library, he wouldn’t have gone nosing around, at least not right away. Even though she had managed to set his instincts off.
He liked her. She was blunt and funny and Clayton clearly adored her. She treated the kids—both the little girl and Clayton—well, and to him that mattered a hell of a lot.
So, she clearly didn’t trust law enforcement types. She wasn’t the only one, and plenty had a reason not to.
And if she hadn’t said anything in the library, he would have just made himself let it go. Now, though . . .
It had been four days since she’d been over with that doll of a little girl. Each day, he’d had to force himself not to go digging anything up. He didn’t have a reason to. She wasn’t doing anything, right? Just dating his brother.
His rich brother.
His single brother.
Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) Page 23
