Jackass! I am so done with him diagnosing me all the time. “So you’re not going to have sex with me because of what happened last night.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“So are you,” he throws back.

We stare at each other, all sorts of tension swirling between us. I both want to jump him and smack him.

Jump him . . .

Or smack him?


Colin

I want to both jump her and smack her, which is the craziest thing ever because I have never had violent thoughts toward a woman before in my life. And hell, she was just mugged, for the love of God. The very thing I should be thinking is how much I want to shake some sense into her.

Those few weak moments when she was touching my mouth, touching my chest, kissing my neck, I was more than ready to cave. Just give in to that uncontrollable urge I feel whenever she’s with me. Where I’m desperate to tear her clothes off and make her mine. Brand her, mark her, demand that she say my name when I make her come. Then she’ll know who she belongs to.

Me. And no one else.

“You’re not working tonight and that’s final,” I finally growl out because holy shit, I have no idea what else to say to break this almost unbearable tension brewing between us.

“Who are you, my dad?” The sarcasm in her voice is unmistakable.

“No, I’m your fucking boss.” I pull away from her and exit the kitchen, needing the escape, but she trails after me, muttering under her breath.

“What the hell did you just say?” I whirl on her, anger running through my veins, making my blood boil. She’s getting under my skin, and not in a good way.

“I said that’s exactly it. You are my fucking boss. As in, you’re my boss and we’re fucking.” She smirks—actually fucking smirks—and crosses her arms in front of her chest, as if daring me to deny it.

I have no answer for her. She’s driving me out of my ever-lovin’ mind and I have no idea why we’re acting this way toward each other. As if we’re both full of hostile resentment that we’re ready to unleash on each other at any given moment.

It reminds me of a pot primed to boil over—and I think we did just that.

“Is that all I am to you?” I ask, my tone just daring her to say yes.

She shrugs one shoulder, all irritated nonchalance. “So we’ve known each other for a long time. So what? It’s not like we owe each other anything.”

My head is spinning. Doesn’t she realize I owe her everything? I care about her, more than I want to admit. The closer we get to her leaving, the more I don’t want her to go. I need to tell her. I need to let her know what she means to me, but . . .

It’s fucking hard. I’m not one to blurt out my feelings. My parents aren’t touchy-feeling and rarely talk about their emotions. I hide behind a mask most of the time. Whatever people want to see, I give it to them. With the exception of Jen.

She’s the only one who sees the real me.

“Besides, I’m nothing but a burden, right? Don’t you get tired of taking care of me all the time? Making sure I’m safe and protected and nothing bad ever happens to me?”

“I let something bad happen to you last night,” I say, my voice low, my anger barely contained. The renewed guilt I feel over what happened to her is almost too much for me to handle.

“That wasn’t your fault. You can’t feel responsible for everything that happens to me. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

“No, I don’t. I want to take care of you. Danny would’ve wanted me to take care of you, too.” It’s the least I can do. I’ve already failed her numerous times. I can think of at least three.

“Do you really believe Danny would have wanted us together? Fucking around on the side?” she asks.

I flinch. “Don’t call it that.”

“Don’t call what we’re doing what it is? Come on, we don’t need to tiptoe around the truth. We’re just fucking each other until I leave. It doesn’t mean anything. We already agreed. You can’t back out of it now.”

“Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

“Doesn’t feel so good when someone challenges you, huh? I know that doesn’t happen very often,” she tosses at me like a giant bomb.

I open my mouth to retort something extra sarcastic right back at her but the doorbell rings, interrupting me. We stare at each other, her eyes narrowing, mine narrowing in return, and we’re like two gunslingers ready for a shootout at the O.K. Corral.

Fuck, I think I’ve been watching too many reality shows on the History channel. I’m starting to sound like them.

“Are you going to get that?” she asks. “I’m sure whoever’s on the other side of that door is far more important than I am.”

What. The. Hell. I don’t get her. She’s defiant, angry, and smug. It’s like she’s completely changed in the last twenty-four hours.

“This conversation is not over,” I tell her as I head toward the door. Thinking it might be the police, I don’t bother checking. I unlock the door and throw it open.

“Hello, son.”

Well, holy fuck. It’s my father. Talk about an unexpected visit.

I haven’t seen him in almost three years.

Chapter 17

Colin

“Are you going to let me in?” The man standing on my doorstep could be my future self. I look so much like my father it’s frightening. Same height, same build, same features, same hair, though his is liberally streaked with gray now.

He smiles at me, looking like a shark baring all of his teeth, and I barely hold back my grimace. No wonder my mom didn’t like me much. I remind her of the man who knocked her up, married her, and then abandoned her, all in a matter of about eighteen months. They pull each other in a constant tug-of-war over still to this day and I’m a grown-ass man. They have nothing to fight over. Their behavior makes absolutely no sense to me.

“Yeah, come in.” I open the door wider and Conrad Wilder strides inside, stopping short when he sees Jen standing in the middle of my living room, looking unsure and kind of adorable with it.

My earlier anger melts away, just like that. Dark circles are under her wide brown eyes and she looks from me to my dad, then back at me. She’s met my dad before, but it’s been a while. It’s pretty obvious who he is, though.

“Who’s this?” My dad turns to look at me, both eyebrows raised. He’s a player, always has been. Women flock to him and he loves it. As he gets older, he likes his women young. The younger, the better. I bet he’s giving me a mental high-five at this very moment.

“Dad, this is Jennifer Cade.” I pause as he approaches her with a too-friendly smile and an outstretched hand. “She’s Danny’s sister.”

“Ahhh.” He draws the word out, giving me a quick look over his shoulder before he turns on the charm for Jen. “I’m positive we’ve met before, though it was a long time ago. Conrad Wilder, but you can call me Con.”

So fitting that he wants people to call him Con. He’s definitely one of the biggest con artists I know. He can talk just about anyone into anything, and that’s why the man is richer than God.

“Nice to meet you,” Jen says, briefly shaking his hand. She shoots me a look, one that says she needs to get out of here, and I can’t blame her. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I watch her exit the room, my gaze zeroing in on her swishing hips, her cute ass barely covered by a pair of tiny cotton shorts. Her legs drive me fucking insane.

“She’s a cute thing, but skinny. Not your usual type,” my dad says the moment he hears Jen shut her bedroom door.

“I don’t have a type.”

Dad laughs. “You do too. Blond, petite, with a tiny waist and huge tits—that’s your type. Always has been. So what gives with this one? She something serious?”

“We’re old friends. That’s it,” I admit grudgingly.

“Ah, well that’s worse. You don’t fuck a friend, son. Didn’t I teach you anything?” He slaps my back with a laugh, acting like we’re nothing but two old buddies hanging out and bagging on women.

That’s the biggest problem I’ve had with him almost my entire life. He treats me like a friend, not like his son. Other than when it’s necessary for him to give me advice and be all fake-fatherly, for the most part he wants to talk tits and ass, get drunk, and brag about his net worth.

When I was younger, I thought it was great. Get the old man drunk, talk about the rack on some hot girl, and the next thing I knew, he was handing me a check for thousands of dollars. Now, though, it sucks. I’m getting too old for this shit. And my father is beyond too old. He’s so transparent with his frat-boy ways—and he was never a frat boy—it’s downright embarrassing.

“I’m not fucking her,” I lie through clenched teeth. I hate how he cheapens my relationship with Jen. More than that, I hate how now Jen cheapens our relationship, too. When did I suddenly become the only believer in this equation?

When have I ever been the believer?

“Then what are you doing, son? Having a little piece like that prancing around your house in shorts that should be illegal, where any man can check out those amazing legs? Not smart.”

“God, would you stop talking about her like that? It’s not like that between us.” What sucks is that I don’t know what it’s really like between us since I’m a confused, screwed-up mess.

“Considering you’re pretty damn sensitive about her, that tells me you’re taking this way too seriously. Like you have feelings for her. And that gets you nothing but trouble.” He plops onto the couch, his gaze shrewd as he studies me. “Danny Cade’s sister, huh? I remember meeting her a few times over the years, what with the way you and Danny were so damn close and always together. Though it’s been a while since I last saw her.”