by Emma Renshaw
I grab a cue from the wall after Hammond tells me to break. I line up my shot, fully aware that every eye in the room is on me. Breaking these balls is a fucking test of some sort, and fuck me, I hope I pass.
We're only kind of friends who fuck occasionally. Okay, daily. But still, there's nothing else happening between us.
I still want to pass this little test of theirs more than I should.
I line up my shot from the corner, going for a solid break. Two solids land in the pockets. When I stand to my full height, each guy has a tiny smile on his face.
"Look," Hammond says, chalking his cue. "I'm not one of those brothers who looks into who their sister dates. Tate's smart, and I trust her judgment. I'm pretty sure if I did try to dictate anything in her life, she'd cut off my balls. I like my balls where they are, so her decisions are hers."
I chuckle. "She's something else," I say, my smile lingering. Since Tatum pulled a smile and a laugh from me—which I don't think I've experienced in years, maybe ever—each smile comes a bit easier, erasing the rust just a bit more.
Hammond returns my grin before sobering again. "I'm not going to tell you I can kick your ass, because shit, dude, you just might be the biggest motherfucker I've ever seen. But I won't hesitate to destroy you in other ways. I'd dismantle your life so quickly and thoroughly, you'd be standing on a street corner begging for change before you could wonder what happened. That's only if you hurt her, though."
"I think my son covered just about all of it," Daniel says. "She's my baby girl. If one hair on her head is harmed because of you, I'll use my money to find a guy bigger than you and have him kick your ass. Then Hammond can go about dismantling your life."
That makes me snicker. I open my mouth to speak, give them some honesty, it's the least they deserve. Being here in this house where there's so much warmth, light, and sunshine, I feel like an even bigger dick for judging Tatum as a spoiled rich girl.
Before I can speak, Walt pipes in. "I don't give a shit how big you are. I have enough guns to supply a Texas army. One of those is bound to take down something as big as you. Hell, I could bring you out to the woods, kill ya there, and claim I found Bigfoot."
I throw my head back laughing, Tatum's family laughing along with me. My expectations of today were totally off. I understand why Tatum is this bright spot in my dark life. I wonder who I would be right now if I had a family like this one.
Once my laughter dies down, I look at each of them. "I won't lie to you. My respect for Tatum and you guys—mostly Tatum, though—is too big for that. I don't know when the thing between us will end. I do know that I care for her, and we're honest with each other about where we stand. I also know that she deserves a much better man than me, but selfishly, right now, I really enjoy spending time with her. We're friends first before anything else. I do anything for the people in my life. She's one of them. The wedding bells in her future won't be with me, but I'm in her life now. My friends, who are my family, are in her life. While she's there, no matter where we stand, I'll do everything to protect her and care for her."
Chapter 27
Tatum
A huge boom of laughter explodes from the room James is trapped in. I've been staring at the door, sliding my finger across my lower lip since my mom pulled me out of there, internally kicking and screaming.
"They're laughing," I say to my mom, not taking my eyes off the door. "That's a good thing, right?"
"Yes, honey," she says moving around the kitchen to gather things for our lunch. "Can you take this to the table?"
"In a minute," I reply, hoping if I stare hard enough, I'll gain superpowers and be able to see through the door. "Maybe they're killing him and laughing about it."
"Pretty sure I heard your sexy man's laugh in that group."
"He's not my man," I insist, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. I'm starting to wish I could call him my man. My sexy man. My sweet man. My everything man. Just mine.
"Then, I'm pretty sure I heard that sexy man's laugh," she says, chuckling.
"Don't call him sexy. That's weird." My leg bounces on the footrest of the barstool making a slight clinking noise.
"Because you're sleeping with him?" If I could take my eyes off the door I would turn around and glare at her, but I’m too anxious to look away from the white door.
"Mother." I sigh. She's really not helping my anxiety over this situation. "What do you think is happening in there?"
"I wouldn't blame you." She's still chuckling to herself as the noises of opening and closing drawers fill the room.
"Do you think they're killing him?" My mom closes a drawer and walks over to me, standing just to the side of me, but not blocking my view of the door.
"No, baby girl," my mom says, brushing my hair away from my face. "You know they respect anyone you choose to date. They'd never hurt anything that makes you smile like you do when you look at him."
This does break my gaze from the door. "How do I look at him?"
"Like he makes the sun rise each day, just for you. Like he's keeping a dog he obviously doesn't want, just to see you smile." I find Sirius drinking from a small water bowl my mom placed there. His bright red collar stands out against his black fur. A smile crosses my face thinking about James keeping Sirius.
Butterflies swarm my stomach. I don't look at him like that. I just decided I can even tolerate him as a human. I want to believe she’s wrong and that she's just on a mission to get grandbabies. The alternative could lead to heartache.
The door opens down the hall, all the men spilling out. Hammond has his hand on James’s shoulder. James has the tiniest of smiles on his face as his shoulders shake with quiet laughter while Hammond grins and gestures with his other hand.
I don't hear what he's saying until they approach, and I gasp in horror. "She's standing on stage, drunk, singing Carrie Underwood at the top of her lungs. Have you heard her sing?"
James shakes his head, his eyes finding mine and not wavering away as he listens to my brother. "No." He winks at me.
"Hammond, don't you dare." I move to jump off the barstool, but my dad wraps an arm around me.
"I love this story," he says, keeping me pinned to the spot and giving me an affectionate squeeze.
I groan, cursing the heavens for my family and covering my face with my hands.
"Good," Hammond says. "Don't let her sing around you; she'll bust your eardrum. Worst thing you've ever heard. Every cliché awful noise—nails on a chalkboard, screeching cats—she's worse than all of that. Our little Tate was a scorned woman at this time…" Hammond continues. I drop my hands from my face sucking in air through my nose. James’s eyes cut to mine, raising an eyebrow, asking a silent question.
"She's wearing this dress and dancing all around the stage, acting out carving her name into some leather seats." Hammond howls with laughter. "She gets to the end of the song, finishing in style, raising her hand in the air like she's on a stage in an arena. And then, her underwear falls off, wrapping around her ankles. She bends quickly to pick them up but tumbles off the stage."
"I can't believe you told that story." I groan as my dad lets go of me, no longer needing to restrain me. Sirius is dancing around our feet, excited from all the noise.
James walks over to me and plants a kiss on my temple. I can feel his body vibrating from his laughter. "Wish I would have seen that."
"No, that would've made it worse." My hands come up to my cheeks feeling them burn beneath my palms.
"You're cute," James says, leaning over to lay another kiss against my temple.
My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath. He just showed me affection in front of my family. Twice. Hammond winks at me before he turns, helping to bring the food to the table.
That small touch of his lips against my skin makes the embarrassing story totally worth it.
The embarrassing stories haven't stopped. My family is taking turns regaling tales from my childhood to James who is eating up each of them. The p
late in front of him is clear of food with the silverware lying on top of it. He's casually relaxed back in his chair, one big foot resting on his knee. His hands are clasped in his lap, and his gray eyes are shining with humor.
"Tate," my brother calls from across the table, grinning mischievously. "Try to do something at the gala in a couple of weeks? It'll make it much more entertaining."
I roll my eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
"Hammond, don't tease your sister." My mom’s sly smile slides across her face. "At least she has a date, so her momma doesn't need to find one for her."
I jolt. Date? I don't have a date to the gala. Truthfully, it hasn't crossed my mind since getting shot down by Patrick. Is she thinking about James?
"Don't need you to find me a date, Mother," Hammond mutters.
"James, dear," my mom asks, turning a genuine smile toward him. "Has Tate told you what the gala is benefitting? Do you have all the details?"
James’s big, round eyes slice to mine, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. I cough into my hand, clearing my throat. "That's not really James’s thing. I don't have a date," I respond. Everyone at the table stares at me, including James. There's a frown on his face as his eyes skim over me, searching.
"Oh," my mom says quietly.
James rubs his hand along the back of his neck. "What’s it benefitting?”
My mom's eyes twinkle as a knowing smile takes over her face. "One of the nonprofits I volunteer with has a large gala every year; it’s coming up in just a couple of weeks. Don't listen to Tate or Hammond, it is really a fun event. We raise money for scholarships for underprivileged youth. Not just scholarships for colleges, but private schools in the area, as well. Each individual who participates can donate to a scholarship that's already formed, or they can create their own with volunteers to cater the behind-the-scenes admin parts that go into it. For example, let's say Pop Pop wanted to donate ten-thousand dollars. He could decide he wants the recipient to be great at billiards. Maybe the child has learned math through billiards. Or he can put the money into something existing."
James nods, taking in everything my mom said as his finger runs absently over his lips. Those gray eyes that see too much of me find mine. He doesn't say anything, just gazes at me. Hammond starts a conversation with the rest of the table, leaving us in this bubble where everything else fades away.
My heartbeat picks up when James’s features soften. "You don't have a date?"
"No." I shake my head without breaking eye contact.
"Do you need one?"
"I do." My voice is trembling and comes out so softly, he may not have even heard the words, but his eyes have moved to my lips.
"Your mom will set you up if you don't find one?"
I grimace, completely annoyed by the thought of my mom finding me a date. It's almost as bad as taking your cousin to prom. I nod.
"I'll take you." The conviction in James’s voice takes me by surprise.
"You will?" My hands stop fidgeting with the napkin in my lap, completely stunned by this turn of events.
"Yes," he replies firmly. Sirius licks my ankle as he weaves between my feet, but I don’t look down. Nothing could take my eyes away from James’s right now.
"It's not really your type of thing. You'll have to wear a tux." I don’t know why I’m pointing this out. He said he’d take me, I should shut up and accept it.
He smirks, shrugging. "I'll manage."
"You'll be my date?" I ask for confirmation. My question comes out in a breathy whisper.
"Yes."
"Why?" His gray eyes drop down to my lips before meeting mine again and dropping his hand to my knee, softly stroking the skin there.
"Tatum, if you need something, ask. I've got you."
Chapter 28
Tatum
I'm in the middle of doing my makeup when the doorbell rings. Crap. James is really early. I'm not even close to being ready, but that's okay. I'll give him a beer and he can wait while watching TV or something.
I'm about to run out of the room when I realize I'm still in my bra and panty set. The doorbell rings again as I'm shoving my arms through the armholes of my robe. "Coming," I yell and hustle down the hall to the door.
"I'm sorry," I say, adjusting the robe to cover myself completely. "I didn't expect you this early."
"I always loved watching you get ready."
At the sound of that voice, my head jerks up and my voice catches in my throat. I take a small step back which allows Patrick just enough space to enter. "Patrick," I whisper. "What are you doing here?"
"I’m saving you from being bored with whomever your mother set you up with. Call him and cancel. I've been missing you." I open my mouth, but snap it shut again. Wondering if this is a dream, I dig my fingernails into my palm until I feel a bite of pain. When my palm twinges, I realize this is indeed happening and I want to laugh.
Patrick steps forward, brings me into his arms, and nuzzles me, dragging his tongue along the crook of my neck. The urge to laugh flees quickly when I feel his mouth on my neck. My hands grip his biceps, firmly pushing him away. "My mom didn't set me up."
"Perfect," he says, grinning. "Let's go together. And leave together. No one is quite like you, Tate."
Ugh.
"I have a date," I say a little coldly, fisting the opening of my robe tightly together.
"You just said your mom didn't set you up." He's stalking toward me while I'm backing up, trying to keep some distance between us.
"She didn't. I'm...." I stop, not really sure how to describe James. I go for the easiest explanation. "I'm seeing someone."
Patrick stops dead in his tracks, raising his eyebrows. His mouth slowly opens, disbelief written all over his face. "You're seeing someone?"
"Yes." I curl a loose strand of hair behind my ear and bite the inside of my cheek.
"I... I don't like that," he says softly, almost to himself. He runs his hand across his smooth-shaven jaw, looking down at his dress shoes.
He doesn't like that. He doesn't like that. I roll my lip between my teeth trying not to explode. I don’t have the time to yell at him or have this argument. I need him to leave. Now. "It's not really up to you," I respond, moving around him to the door and opening it. "I need to finish getting ready. He'll be here soon."
Patrick stares at me for several long moments, taking me in from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, then slowly nods. "Right." He walks to the door, but pauses, facing me. "Is it serious?"
I hesitate, looking down at my feet before meeting his eyes again. "It's early."
Patrick gives me one last once-over before walking out the door. I breathe a sigh of relief, slamming it behind him and lock it when the doorbell rings again. My forehead rests against the door as I groan is frustration. I don't have time for this conversation with him.
I swing open the door, but it's not Patrick.
A delivery man in a green polo stands with a bouquet of flowers. "Tatum Rothschild?"
"Yes," I say, wrapping my fist around my robe to close it even tighter as the delivery man’s eyes rake over my body.
"These are for you, beautiful."
"Thanks." I grab them and shut the door quickly, throwing the lock in place. Now that I'm not under the scrutiny of the delivery man, I truly look at the flowers. They're lovely—a mix of deep red and pristine white roses in a crystal vase. The scent brings a smile to my face as I pluck the card from the top.
I'll see you tonight.
Save me a dance.
A giddy feeling consumes me as I hold the card to my chest. I set the vase on the living room coffee table where James will see them when he walks in. Maybe this is something that could become serious.
I hustle back into my bedroom to finish getting ready before James arrives. I'm sliding the silk material of my dress up my body when the doorbell rings. Reaching behind my back to pull up the zipper, I can't get it all the way. I'm struggling when the doorbell rings again.
<
br /> Softly holding the material to my chest, I go to the door, opening it to reveal James. In a tuxedo. Dear God. I inhale in a sharp breath, completely blown away by the sight of him. It fits him perfectly, framing every hard, solid inch of him.
"Tatum," he says, looking down at me with a cockiness in his gaze. He knows I'm checking him out, and that I truly like what I see.
"James.” I say his name on a breath.
He brings out a hand from behind his back. revealing a gorgeous bouquet with deep fall colors and a mix of flowers. I gasp putting my hand over my chest. "They're beautiful," I whisper. His hand extends a little farther, prompting me to take them. I chuckle. "I need some help with my dress. Can you put them down and help me?"
James walks past me, laying the flowers on the coffee table next to the other bouquet. I turn my back to him when he steps toward me. His breathing picks up, turning just a little heavier when his finger skims along my back, creating goosebumps in its wake.
He trails his finger down my spine to where the zipper starts just above my ass and slowly back up to my neck. His lips take the spot where his finger left off. His tongue caresses my skin as he slowly zips my zipper.
My nipples pebble through the fabric as I crane my neck to the side, giving him easier access. When he's done zipping me up, his large hand wraps around my hip, sliding up my body until his thumb brushes over my extended nipple. I moan, arching into his hand, silently pleading for more. He bites my neck before spinning me around.
James doesn't say anything, just stares at me standing before him. He drags his finger along the neckline of my dress. It's a sweetheart neckline with a small, sharp V showing off a hint of cleavage. The straps hang loosely around my arms, leaving my shoulders and neck bare.
"You look gorgeous. You are gorgeous, Tatum." James’s voice is husky and thick as his hand wraps around the nape of my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes before he bends to kiss my lips.
