Chapter Three
I glanced at my watch; only an hour had passed since I arrived. I usually tried to stay for at least two, but my social tolerance was teetering on the edge. Chardonnay had that effect on me. One interaction with her and I was ready to head to my cabin in the woods, pour two fingers’ worth of whiskey and lose myself in a history book. It’s either that or she gets me so aroused I have no choice but to take matters into my own hands. Literally.
Nero—Grasso sibling number four—stepped from the house, adjusting his shirt with a shit-eating grin. Considering Lainey was also missing, I could guess where he was. Ever since he opened his eyes to the girl who’d been right in front of him since we were kids, he had given up his playboy ways, and his dick and his heart belonged solely to Lainey now. I wished they would ease up on the all-over-each other phase. I didn’t need to walk in on them fucking.
“Hey.” Nero stopped beside me, patting my back.
“Hope you washed your hands.”
“Huh?” Nero looked down at his opened hand and turned it over. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” I nodded toward the door Lainey was walking through, a flush coating her cheeks and chest. “You’re not as smooth as you think you are.”
“We didn’t have time for foreplay.” He smirked in that annoying way he did.
“Franc’s going to kick your ass if he finds out you’re fucking in his house. Speaking of, don’t both of you have houses of your own?”
“Yes, but Lainey was working on a cake all night, and she forbade me from going to the shop.”
“I wonder why.”
Nero shrugged, feigning innocence when anyone who knew him knew innocence was not his forte.
Jack, my best friend and worst guard dog, plopped his ass on my boot and rested his furry head against my leg. I leaned down and pet my Australian Shephard, who I rescued after he was brought to the local shelter from a puppy mill. Some days, I think he rescued me.
“So,” Nero says, leaning on his heels and looking awkward.
“What?”
“Your dad,” he started, and my hand stilled on Jack’s fur, every muscle in my body tense.
Nero, a former thirty-six-year-old playboy, somehow became best friends with a group of old military vets, and that group included my old man. Nero kept me posted on how he was doing, and I hated that I cared. After everything that man put me through, I shouldn’t give two shits. But somehow, growing up with so much hate and anger, I couldn’t allow myself to default to what was most likely in my DNA. I fought against it as much as I could. Sometimes, Nero would catch me off guard and the resentment and bitterness that simmered beneath the surface would rise, and I’d tell Nero to fuck off. But the guilt of not listening would follow me home.
“What about him?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“The guys are worried about him.”
“Okay.” Just because I kept updated on him didn’t mean shit. Ron wasn’t my problem and hadn’t been for a long time. He was lucky he had any friends at all.
“He’s been a little forgetful lately.”
“Is he drinking again?”
“No, he hasn’t touched alcohol in years.”
He waited until I moved out, got my shit together, to give it up. Maybe if he’d given the bottle up when I was a kid, living at home, needing my father, things could have been different.
When he got sober, he tried to contact me. Through a fucking letter. He didn’t even have the decency to meet me face to face with his half-assed apology. I’d tossed the letter in the fire and let the flames speak for me.
I tipped my glass to my lips, appreciating the complexity of the liquid gold—respecting it and never abusing it. “He’s getting old.”
“He’s seventy. Gramps was much older than him and was sharp as a tack until he died.”
“He took care of himself.”
“I guess, but it’s still concerning. I mean, he went for a walk and couldn’t find his way home.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do,” I bit out, harsher than I intended.
Nero held his hands up, and guilt flooded through me. “I’m just letting you know.”
“Sorry. I—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself. I know.”
He’d seen the bruises Ron’s fists left behind and the cigarette burns on my forearms before I used tattoos to cover up the evidence.
People changed, recovered, started doing good, and I was of sound mind to believe everyone deserved a second chance, but there were just some things I couldn’t forget. Those horrible moments where a man I only ever wanted to love me attacked me. I stared the devil directly in his eyes, and every time, my father faded more and more until all I could see was the evil he’d stopped fighting against. He didn’t love me enough to fight those demons. He let them consume him.
Why should I care now that he forgot where his keys were or the street to get to his house? At least he had a house to go to. Because of him, I lost that privilege before I graduated high school.
I thrust my hand over my hair, pulling some of it loose from its band. My old man hated long hair, always preferring the buzz cut of his military days, so I guess a part of me defied him even today.
“He has Ray and Albert and Chris,” I said, letting the anger and bitterness settle. “They’ll keep an eye on him.”
“They are,” Nero assured me.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
Nero’s lips cracked slightly at the edge as he gave a quick nod.
“What am I missing?” Franc asked and stopped in front of Nero and me.
“Other than your sense of style, nothing,” Nero said, and Franc glanced at the ridiculous yellow Hawaiian-esque shirt with an array of Big Foots and foot prints scattered all over.
“My son and Quinn bought it for me. Steve apparently got new merchandise in at the museum, and Gio thought I’d love this yellow monstrosity.”
He didn’t. It was not his style at all. But Franc would do just about anything for his son. I respected it. Respected him. Wished more kids had dads like him.
Franc turned, and Nero smacked my arm as a laugh burst from him. My eyes landed on the back of Franc’s shirt, Steve’s face with a thumbs up plastered across it and the words Big Foot Museum arching over him, and I lost my shit. A laugh rumbled up my throat before I could stop it.
I cleared my throat and tried to compose myself. “You do look kind of hot,” I joked.
“Fuck off.” Harsh words, but even he couldn’t keep the laugh out of his tone. “Or I’ll give Gio money to buy his Uncle Brady a matching one.”
The smile dropped from my lips, and I shook my head. “Don’t even think about it.” I loved to support small, local businesses, but I had to draw the line somewhere. A shirt with Steve’s doofy ass face was the line.
“You still good with taking Gio tomorrow night?” Franc asked.
He and Quinn were having a date night, and I volunteered to take Gio for tacos and some evening fishing.
“Of course.” Ever since Gio was born and Franc’s ex took off without as much as a glance, we all had chipped in to help. Now helping with Gio was just part of my life, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I loved that kid as if he was my own flesh and blood. “But if he catches a bigger fish than me again, we might have a problem.”
“You always were insecure about size,” Franc quipped, backhanding me in the chest.
“Are you really going to joke about the size of my dick while wearing that shirt? That’s an automatic two-inch deduction.”
Nero all but snorted, which made me laugh a little harder.
“What are we laughing about?” Chardonnay asked, taking a sip of her Merlot. Jack sat up and nudged Chardonnay’s hand until she scratched behind his ears. Trader.
“Dick sizes,” I said.
“I guess it’s funny, but if I were you, I’d probably be crying.” Her dark brown eyes locked on mine, challenging me to a battle of word banter.
“Tears of joy all the time, baby.”
Death shot from her eyes and went straight for me. “Don’t call me baby.”
“Sorry.” I held my hands up. “She-devil.”
Her eyes widened. And if Franc didn’t step in between us, I imagined I’d be wearing the rest of her Merlot.
Franc’s shoulders slumped. “Will there ever be a day where you two aren’t at each other’s throats?”
“No!” we both said in unison, eyes locking over Franc once again.
“Well, at least they agree on something,” Nero said.
“Who’s ready for cake?” Lainey called from the table, where she placed one of her masterpieces. I hated most get-togethers, but if Lainey was bringing cake, I could tolerate them.
Mr. Grasso raised his hand, and Gio, with Sally in his arms, ran across the lawn to be first in line. Franc and Nero headed toward the table, and I was about to follow, but Chardonnay’s up and down glance of me stopped me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, just nice of you to dress for the occasion.”
I looked down at my carpenter pants with brown splotches from when I stained my deck. They were my favorite pair of pants. They were broken in and might as well have been sweats. I wasn’t about to stop wearing them because of a few stains. My eyes darted to her, and I dragged my gaze over Chardonnay’s typical uptight dress pants and tucked in button-up shirt.
“And what board meeting did you just come from?”
“Better than looking like I spent my day rolling around in the dump.”
“Jealous?”
She scoffed. “Of you?”
“I think you are.”
“I think you’re delusional.”
“Don’t you ever just want to kick off the heels and walk barefoot in the grass? Throw away your iron? Take the stick out of your ass?”
Her eyes narrowed in the way they do when she’s about to light me up. Her rebuttals were brutal, but I prided myself on the fact I could always get them out of her, unlike anyone else.
“I don’t have a stick in my ass, but I do have a pain in my ass, and it’s been there for twenty years.”
“Longest relationship you’ve had.”
Chardonnay had only dated a handful of men in her life. She always put her work first, and most men were intimidated by her strong independence.
Her lip curled, and I had to bite away my smile. She was about to go nuclear, and I was ready for it. Her mouth parted, and I could see the lashing her tongue was gearing up for. I crossed my arms, and a cocky satisfaction spread through me as her gaze lingered on my bicep before quickly snapping away.
“Do you two want cake?” Lainey called to us. “It’s apple spice with a maple buttercream.”
Chardonnay’s eyes met mine, challenging me to be the first to back down. After twenty years, I’d think she’d know me better.
“Are you having a staring contest?” Gio asked, running up to us. “Did you know that bearded dragons have a third eyelid?”
Chardonnay’s jaw clenched, and I broke free from her dark brown eyes.
Gio’s head tilted up at us, buttercream frosting all over the edges of his mouth. “I did, buddy.” I patted Gio’s shoulder. “It’s called a nictitating membrane.”
“How the hell did you know that?” she asked, and Gio gasped.
“You said hell.”
“Gio!” Franc exclaimed. “Don’t say hell.”
“But you just said it.”
“I’m allowed.”
“That’s not fair,” he pouted.
“Life isn’t fair, kid,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
“Don’t tell him that,” Chardonnay snapped.
“So you want me to lie to him so when he gets older, he’s not prepared for a world that isn’t there to hold his hand?”
“You’ve always been so cynical.”
“Cynical and realistic are different, but considering you have no idea what it is to struggle, I can see how you can’t decipher between the two.”
Her nose twitched, a sure sign she was about to erupt. Throwing in her face she came from a stable life of money and privilege always got under her skin. It made her feel less than like she didn’t work her ass off to get to where she was in the family business. The thing was… I knew damn well she did. She was one of the hardest working people I knew.
“Come on, bud,” I said to Gio. “Let’s go get you a napkin.” I ignored Chardonnay and guided him toward the table, where Mrs. Grasso wiped Gio’s face and Lainey handed me a piece of cake.
I took a bite of cake and watched as Chardonnay tried to fix the anger on her face. She was struggling, and I loved every second of it. Jack sat at her feet. I wanted to call the traitor to me, but I didn’t want her to think my dog liked her better.
She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, plastered a smile—if you could call it that—on her face, and joined the rest of us, purposely standing on the opposite side from me. She forked a piece of cake and brought it to her lips. Her tongue darted out, swiping along the edge.
My muscles tightened at the sight, and I turned away from her, cursing my dick for not being able to resist her. It was a shallow prick who only cared about how fucking beautiful she was and could not care less that she’d been a rigid bitch to us for years.
Jack pressed against my leg. Now he wanted my attention. I bent down and scratched behind his ears. Traitor or not, I’d always give him scratches.
Side conversations started up—a cacophony of sound that made it hard to decipher the individual words. I glanced at my watch, and Franc sidled up beside me.
“It’s been two hours. You can bail.” There was a reason he was my best friend. He knew me better than anyone. “I appreciate you coming. Slip through the side gate. I’ll tell everyone you said bye.”
“Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”
Franc patted my shoulder, and I snapped my finger toward Jack. He rose beside me, and we left together.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and threw my truck into park. I opened the door, and Jack jumped down with a bark as if he had to let the surrounding woods know he was home. He sniffed the perimeter as I made my way to the front door.
My mind drifted to my conversation with Nero about my old man. Disgusted annoyance swelled in me for even giving a damn. Refusing to let that man occupy my night, I shifted my thoughts to another annoyance…
Chardonnay and her upturned nose and too pouty lips. The dark brown eyes that could bring any man to his damn knees. And that confidence bordering on arrogance fit her like the perfect dress, highlighting every angle of her attitude.
My dick hardened, pressing uncomfortably against the restrictive fabric of my worn carpenter pants.
Fuck. So much for a relaxing night. If I didn’t handle this, I’d never be able to sit in my favorite chair and pick up the book I started last night. Chardonnay and her too perfect body and her too perfect everything would haunt me, begging me to stroke myself while imagining her pouty lips taking me to the hilt.
She was my enemy, but she was also my weakness—something I’d managed to keep to myself all these years.
Jack finished securing the perimeter and ran into the house, plopping his fluffy ass on his bed and munching on his favorite bone.
With a sigh, I shut the door and made my way for the shower, where I would envision my enemy and succumb to my weakness.