Arrogant Bastard

by Jennifer Dawson

That makes everyone around the table laugh, and Jackson says to his daughter, “You’re not getting drunk, young lady.”

  “Oh, Daddy, I know.” She puts on a big pout. “But you’ll let me watch, right?”

  “Most definitely not,” Jackson says, his voice stern.

  “Please.” The little girl holds her hands together in prayer. “Please, please, please.”

  “Nope.”

  Natalie turns her attention to Gwen. “Can you please get him to be reasonable, Momma?”

  Gwen’s features soften, and I can practically see her heart melting for the little girl that will be her daughter officially as soon as the adoption papers are signed.

  She turns to Jackson. “We can let her stay for one, right?”

  Jackson shakes his head at the ceiling. “Have we not talked about this? You’re supposed to side with me, to present a united front.”

  “I’m not saying the whole night, but what’s the harm in letting her have fun with us for an hour?” Gwen turns and winks at Natalie. “Your father is obviously right.”

  “Obviously,” Natalie says, her voice light, her expression mock serious.

  “Fine.” Jackson gives a heavy sigh. “One hour, and then off you go.”

  “Deal.” Natalie beams.

  I jut my chin at Cat. “Ready?”

  “Fine. Ready.” She huffs, exasperated.

  “Cat, if you don’t want to go with him, I will.” Payton offers oh so helpfully.

  Before Cat can take her up on a possible escape, one that will only hurt her in the end, I say, “Thanks, sweetheart, but I need Cat for this.”

  Payton gives me a little wink. “Gotcha.”

  Cat sighs again, like she can’t believe she’s saddled with me, but I know it’s all an act. When she walks by, I grab her wrist and whisper, “You don’t fool me one bit.”

  She glares up at me. “Coming?”

  “Not yet, but you might be.”

  She rears back, her eyes wide. “You’re the worst.”

  “That’s the rumor.” I let her go, and she continues to walk through the door. Just so everyone in the room is crystal clear on the matter of Cat and me, I give her a good slap on the ass as we depart.

  That should put her in a better mood.

  The woman needs a good claiming.

  17

  Cat

  I’m stomping my feet as we make our way into the tasting room, irrationally irritated at Caden. At Gwen and Jackson. And especially at Payton, who left absolutely no doubt that she was interested in the jerk.

  In an unreasonable huff, I walk to the bar and start arranging glasses that don’t need arranging, just to collect myself.

  I’ve always liked both of Gwen’s sisters, but right now, Payton and her flirting have gotten under my skin. I’m not going to lie, I wanted to smack her. I wanted to lunge over the table and pull her hair, screaming like a banshee that he was mine. Mine, goddamn it!

  It’s the most annoying emotion I’ve ever experienced.

  Made all the worse because I should not feel this way.

  What’s even more horrifying is I’m positive Caden knew I was jealous.

  As much as I keep telling myself to play it cool, I cannot seem to stop the minor tantrum I’m throwing.

  The door clicks closed, and he chuckles.

  It’s like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Working on quite a mad there, aren’t ya?” That low, amused voice.

  Ugh, I want to punch him. I think of him slapping my ass and flash hot at the memory of other things he’s slapped, but I latch on to indignation, whirling to face him.

  He’s leaning over the edge of the bar, all casual like. A washed-out T-shirt with the words good with my hands emblazoned over it stretches over his broad chest and hugs his biceps far too tightly for comfort. He’s got a toothpick hanging out of his mouth that he’s twirling.

  He looks so…so…relaxed. It raises my ire exponentially.

  I jab a finger at him. “You slapped me!”

  “I did.” He utters the statement like it’s no big deal. He darts a gaze down my body. “I’ll probably slap you again sometime soon.”

  I can only blink at his gall. “You are the most despicable man I’ve ever met,” I sputter.

  He flashes me a smile. “Really, now? Well, Catarina, I’m honored.”

  My hands curl into fists, and some logical part of my brain knows I’m being entirely unreasonable, but I cannot control myself. I deliver my next words like bullets. “Fuck. Off.”

  He laughs. “You ready to get started?”

  I breathe out, hard, trying to get ahold of my patience. “You know what I fantasize about? Murdering you.”

  “Sure, you do.” He straightens and walks around the bar to stand in front of me. He dips low and whispers in my ear, making me shiver, “I’m sure when you lie in bed at night, that’s exactly what you’re fantasizing about.”

  “I am.” My voice has lost some of its edge.

  His hand slides over my hip and curves around to my ass, where he squeezes a little. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  I square my shoulders, trying with all my might not to fall under his seductive spell. “Why would I be happy?”

  His teeth scrape over my earlobe. “I made sure Gwen’s little sister knows she has no shot at me.”

  He did. I’ll give him that. But that’s the problem. I shouldn’t want that. I shake my head. “You’re an arrogant bastard.”

  He pulls me close. “Here I am being all nice, making sure you can let go of your jealousy, and this is the thanks I get?”

  I push at his chest, but my fingers curve into his shirt. “I’m not jealous.”

  “Uh-huh, sure you’re not.” His mouth brushes over mine, just the lightest of touches. A tease, really. “Want me to make good on that promise?”

  I can’t hide my breathlessness now. “What promise?”

  “To make you come.”

  I swallow hard. God, I’d like nothing better, but I can’t admit it to save my soul.

  He squeezes me tighter, moves to the shell of my ear. “I could bend you over the bar, pull down those jeans, and lick your pussy until you scream.”

  My lashes flutter closed. I can picture it, his mouth moving over me. He’d be dirty while he did it, the way he does everything, driving me crazy.

  His lips move, brushing the fine hairs and sending goose bumps over my skin. “All you need to do is say one little word.”

  “What?” It’s as much as I can get out.

  “Yes.” He pulls me close, and I can feel his erection against my stomach.

  I rise to my tiptoes, hoping to encourage him lower, where his strength can do so much good.

  Thank God he obliges.

  He bends his knees, and the next thing I know he’s put me on a stool, pressing into me.

  All my agitation is forgotten, replaced by lust. I grip his hips with my thighs.

  He lifts me so I slide against him. “I’m making it so easy for you.”

  But I cannot make the word leave my lips. I just can’t. It feels like surrendering, admitting I can’t resist him, that I’m powerless. And I cannot do that. There will be no hiding from it then.

  He’ll win. He’ll use it against me. I can’t give him that kind of upper hand. I’ll never get it back again.

  “One.” His teeth scrape my earlobe. “Little.” His lips brush the corner of my jaw. “Word.” His tongue licks the curve of my neck.

  My mouth stays firmly shut, even though I’m screaming yes in my head. Why won’t he just do it? When he knows he can? He knows I can’t resist. That I want it. Want him.

  I put my hands on the chair and thrust up, rubbing against him.

  He moves away, laughing. “Say the word, Cat.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I’m sure.” These words, the ones I don’t want to say, hav
e no problem at all escaping my lips.

  “All right then.” He plants one open-mouthed kiss against my throat, his tongue fluttering over my pounding pulse for a fleeting second, and then he’s gone. He straightens, untangling my legs from around his hips. “Let’s get to work.”

  I stare back at him, unblinking, my mouth slightly agape. “Are you serious?”

  He picks up an apron and throws it at me. “I’m giving you what you want.”

  And just like that, I hate him all over again.

  Later that afternoon, I’m coming up the back staircase, tired and dirty. After setting up the tasting room with every herb imaginable and making sure we were fully stocked, Caden and I spent some time in the garden going over the crops.

  Under his care and diligence, the garden is practically bursting with life.

  He also has ideas.

  Good ideas.

  Ideas that are like a kick in the gut because I didn’t think of them.

  I sigh, pinching my eyes shut for a second to work the dust from them. I feel like I have a fine layer of filth on me, and I can’t wait to wash it all off.

  Just as I’m heading down the hall, Payton exits the guest room she’s occupying, and I practically feel myself shrink. She looks far more gorgeous than should be fair.

  I blink, taking in her lanky, lean body in a form-fitting black jumpsuit that clings like it was custom made for her. She and Gwen are built the same way, all legs.

  My mind immediately fills with Caden watching her entrance in an outfit I couldn’t pull off in a million years. And here I was planning on wearing jeans to the pizza boozefest.

  I plaster a smile on my face, and it hurts my cheeks, it’s so forced. “Hey, you look fantastic.”

  Payton beams at me. She might be one of the friendliest and most vivacious women I’ve ever met. How could anyone not love her?

  How could Caden not want her?

  “Why, thank you.” She sweeps her long, softly curled hair over one shoulder and it drapes perfectly over her breast. She looks sophisticated and has a big city vibe that’s impossible to replicate. Hope and Gwen have it too. It’s elusive and mysterious, something I don’t understand about them. Even in the same outfit, with the same hair and makeup, I wouldn’t look the same.

  Impoverished farm girl is too ingrained in me.

  I clear my throat. “I thought this was casual.”

  She chuckles. “I’m comfortable. This outfit is cotton and stretchy.”

  I point down at her four-inch stilettos. “You’re in heels.”

  She leans in close, like we’re co-conspirators. “Truth be told, I just bought this, and I had to wear it the first second I could because I’m in love with it.”

  I attempt to widen my smile. “I can’t blame you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

  Before she can respond, Hope comes out of her room. She’s also dressed to the nines in a black pencil skirt with a wide waistband and an off-the-shoulder white, capped-sleeve top. She looks like the words va va voom should follow as she passes. She has one of those exaggerated hourglass shapes that makes men’s eyes roll back in their heads.

  Payton cocks a brow and grins. “I see you.”

  Hope smooths her skirt down. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Uh-huh, sure you don’t,” her sister says.

  Completely deadpan, Hope stares Payton down. “I can assure you, I do not.”

  Payton chuckles. “Well, don’t worry. As usual, your strategy is flawless. He won’t know what hit him.”

  I have no clue what they’re talking about. Every time I see the three sisters together, with their easy affection and shorthand communication, I feel a stab of envy. Sisters seem to share a secret bond that connects them. As the lone girl with two brothers, I’ve always felt the odd man out.

  Hope brushes her hair off her shoulder. “Good.”

  Next Jillian emerges, and she’s wearing a slinky sundress that somehow manages to look both innocent and seductive at the same time.

  For God’s sake, they all look like they’re dressed to go out on the town. What is wrong with them? Do they not realize this is Toulon?

  I shake my head. “Are we going to a club I don’t know about?”

  Jillian saunters over, all dark hair and exotic eyes. “Do you guys even have a club in this town?”

  “No, we do not.” Every time one of them steps out into the hallway, it’s like another layer of dirt appears on my skin. I’m hyperaware of my dusty clothes, haphazard bun, and makeup-less face. “Is there a dress code memo I missed?”

  Jillian shakes her head. “Nope. It’s Friday.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  She laughs. “It means we glam out.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Jillian shrugs. “I didn’t really think about it. This is what Leo wanted, and this is what he got.”

  Payton laughs. “Does he always pick out your clothes?”

  “Not always, but when he’s in the mood… He’s in the mood.”

  Payton appraises her. “Well, you look like a slutty virgin.”

  Jillian laughs, putting her hand on her stomach. “I know, right?”

  Well, now instead of a quick shower, I’ve got to go through the energy of getting ready. I can’t let Caden see me, surrounded by goddesses, in jeans and a tank top.

  I gesture toward my room. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to jump in the shower. It’s been a long day.”

  They all smile, and I take my escape, entering my bedroom suite and heading straight to the closet.

  Now what?

  Caden

  * * *

  I’m sitting on a bar stool, watching the mixologist, a pretty dark-haired woman with dancing brown eyes and a warm smile, perform her magic. Here in Toulon, pouring drinks is called bartending, but apparently in the big city it’s an artform.

  We’ve already gone through all the herbs Cat and I prepped for her, and we’ve had an extensive conversation on whether basil complements the rum or not.

  I’m not sure who won, but it was an interesting discussion. Over the course of the day Amy’s done all sorts of things—infusing essences into tiny bottles, muddling herbs, crushing raspberries.

  It was pretty fascinating. And it gave me something to do while I waited for Cat.

  Everyone is here but her.

  All of us guys are dressed in jeans, but through some unspoken female communication, all the women are decked out and gorgeous. In the richness of the tasting room, they look like they’re attending a modern-day Gatsby party.

  Wyatt is sitting next to me and can’t seem to take his eyes off the lovely Hope. Although, he’s mostly glaring at her while she pretends to ignore him.

  I chuckle, sipping a glass of water.

  Gwen won’t let anyone drink anything, so our senses aren’t dulled when the cocktail menu rolls out.

  Wyatt looks at me. “What?”

  I shrug. “You’re gonna burn a hole in her.”

  “Not my type,” he mutters.

  “Sure, she’s not.”

  “She’s one of those annoying, workaholic types.” His gaze darts back to her.

  “A hot workaholic type.” ’Cause I’m helpful that way.

  He turns away, swiveling back to put his elbows on the bar. “Not my type.”

  “So you keep saying.” I laugh, dropping the subject. “You got time on Monday? I’ve got some ideas for the reserve cane I want to go over with you.”

  “I’ve always got time to talk rum.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “I miss it, you know? Working the crops, getting my hands dirty.”

  I nod. “Price of success.”

  “It’s true. We’re growing so fast now, I’m less and less involved in the day to day.” He waves his hand across the bar. “It’s hard to believe, considering where we started.”

  “Life’s funny that way. Sometimes you can’t plan how things are going to turn out.”

  “It’s what
I wanted.” He tightens his hand on his glass. “Just comes at a price I didn’t anticipate.”

  I hear him. Life has a tendency to zig when you expect it to zag. But I forget what I’m about to say as I catch sight of Cat in the doorway.

  She’s wearing a black, sleeveless dress that clings to her body and makes me instantly hard. As I take her in, I wish the drinking would get under way so I can dull the edge of my need.

  I keep waiting for her to give herself to me. To surrender.

  But she’s been resistant so far, stubborn in her refusal to give in.

  Of course, I could use the lust between us and overpower her, but that’s no longer good enough for me. I want her knowing and voluntary submission.

  I’m making it as easy for her as possible, but I’ve underestimated her obstinance.

  It’s getting to me, but my resolve is absolute.

  Although, the sight of her in that figure-flaunting dress makes me determined to prod her along.

  “I feel I should object to the way you’re looking at my sister.” Wyatt’s wry tone rips my gaze from Cat.

  I raise a brow. “Are you?”

  He shrugs. “Can’t be smart.”

  Of course it’s not smart, but I’ve given up the good fight and am prepared to go down in flames. I don’t know how to keep good things, and she’s not going to be the exception.

  I shake my head. “Never been known for my brains.”

  Wyatt studies his sister, who hasn’t looked in this direction once as she’s made her way around the room, saying hello to the small pockets of people littered around in leather chairs.

  He glances back at me. “Just promise we won’t lose you if things go south.”

  I frown, thinking of the last time things went south. “I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The acquiescence surprises me, so I give him my full attention. “That’s it?”

  His steely eyes, a shade or two darker than his sister’s, narrow. He contemplates Cat, then turns to me. “Our dad did the classic going out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back deal. My mom, she loved him too much, and it broke her. She died still wondering if today would be the day he showed up. Jackson couldn’t take it, and he had a talent we couldn’t understand, so he left to travel the world, cook, and meet interesting people. Then it was just Cat and me in this house, which at the time was crumbling down around us. Those were some lean, desperate years, and when I look back, I can’t believe we didn’t lose everything. But we turned it around, only I think along the way she got used to suffering and doesn’t know how to turn it off.”