Chapter 23
Dallas
I’m grateful I didn’t need to explain to Macon this morning why we were hosting the sister of the guy trying to take our home.
I have no doubt he had a good gripe about it when Krisjen helped get her settled last night—and probably another pout or two when I stayed in St. Carmen and when he heard what I talked Trace into doing—but as soon as I walked in the door this morning, it was laughter and smiles around the breakfast table.
It’s impossible to not like Anna-Katherine.
She reminds you of everything you miss about yourself before the world got to you.
Drifting past the kitchen window, I loosen my tie and pull it off over my head, watching Iron straddle a deck chair outside with a laptop in front of him. Three women play in the pool, none of them straddling him.
I shake my head and unbutton my shirt before grabbing the Buffalo Trace bottle out of the cabinet and two glasses. Carrying them outside, I squint against the waning sunlight as the early evening wind sweeps through my hair.
No rain today.
No storm, no hurricane. The weather couldn’t be more perfect.
Fuckin’ awesome.
Stopping between the two chaises, I set the glasses down on the round table.
Iron doesn’t even have to look up to know it’s me. “I’m surprised you don’t run out of there as soon as the students leave,” he says.
I unfasten the cap. “Always more work to do.”
“You like it.” His little smile peeks out as he stares at the screen. “Macon knows best, after all.”
Yes, he does. I like my work. I’m in charge in that room, and no one in this family knows more than me in that one place. I may not have a clue about most other things, but my oldest brother knew all too well that if you can’t give people peace, then just give them something to do.
At least it’s not still mowing lawns and cleaning assholes’ pools.
I pour two drinks, not telling Iron that I stayed late today only because I hoped to run into Callum.
To fight. To taunt.
Even just to look at him.
He never showed, though. Anna-Katherine was with my sister all day, so he didn’t have to pick her up.
“Yeah, Macon knows a thing or two,” I tease. “I guess we’ll really see when it’s your turn.”
Iron chuckles. “Fuck off.”
I hand him a glass.
“Nah, I’m good,” he says.
“Please.” I jiggle the glass at him.
What the hell is his problem? Macon rarely drinks anymore, and neither does Trace, and he owns a bar! The only one I can count on is Army, and given his bitching lately, I don’t think we should be drunk around each other right now.
“I was in a prison without you,” I point out. “And it still feels like you’re not home.”
It’s slight, but I see how he reacts. The miniscule slump to his shoulders just before he turns his eyes up at me. And immediately, I realize I’m an asshole. Again.
He takes the glass, and I plop down onto the chair, legs bent and feet planted on the ground on both sides.
When I take a sip, the weight of his presence next to me grows heavier. Why did I say that? As if he owes me something.
As if I have a right to make demands on him after what he’s been through. He owes me nothing, even if it’s his own fault he was in prison.
He’s changed so much, though.
And we’ve yet to see if it’s for better or worse. He wanted to be a pilot—even started studying for it while he was in jail—but nothing is the same anymore.
He’s calm now, and I don’t know why that scares me.
I drain my glass and tip my head back, closing my eyes. It’s almost five. Getting on to dinnertime.
My stomach tightens, and I shake my head clear. Fuck it.
Opening my eyes, I lower my chin, eyeing the girls in the pool. A blonde, a brunette, and one with light brown hair. She’s the shortest. I like short girls. Easy to carry.
An image of Golden Boy enters my head, and I blink long and hard.
“What’s wrong?” Iron asks.
I snatch the bottle off the table and pour in three fingers. “I’m fine.”
I drink, but he doesn’t return to his work. Just stares at me.
I swallow, clearing my throat against the burn. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you screwing him again?”
I scowl at my brother. “What did I just say?”
How the hell did he figure that out, dammit?
I don’t need advice or a scolding. I just need to go to the bar with my favorite brother and get drunk and laid.
Or better yet, the field trip with Serena Oliver this weekend would be a great opportunity to stick it to that little shit. Going at it in a nice hotel room on the boosters’ dime? Hell yes.
I can have fun, too.
Pulling the bottle up from the ground, I pour another double shot.
“Slow down,” Iron tells me.
What for? To make more shitty decisions? No, I need out of my head and for it to happen as soon as possible.
Swallowing another mouthful, I gaze ahead, meeting the short girl’s eyes.
Her cinnamon-colored hair is piled on top of her head in a messy but beautiful twist, locks draped around her face.
Her tanned stomach is flat, all of her meat in her tits and ass.
Rosy cheeks, big blue eyes. I’d love to see all that hair bouncing over her spine as she takes it in my bed.
Looking at me over her shoulder, she pulls the strings of her bikini and makes a show of dropping the top onto the water. Her friends smile, whispering to each other as she reaches up with both hands and pulls the pins out of her hair. It tumbles down her back, blanketing the slender spine.
Iron and I watch her as she spins around, dipping into the water and popping back up. Water drips off her nipples, and she leans back into the edge of the pool, her plump tits bare and begging.
It’s nice. She’s got a nice body.
But as I sit there, I wait to be turned on. For my blood to warm, my heart to kick up speed, my dick to respond…
She’s got perfect breasts, just slightly bigger than her rib cage. Stunning.
All that happens is the image floats into my head of Callum in the school’s pool last week, waist-deep and looking up at the sky and how beautiful he was.
I blink my eyes away, taking another drink. Fuck.
“Who are these girls?” I mumble.
“I have no fucking clue.” Iron focuses back on his screen. “Everyone’s worried about me. I think Aracely rounded them up from the beach and dumped them here.”
I chuckle. “What a world when an ex-girlfriend is trying to get you laid.”
“I think she’s genuinely concerned.” He peers over at me. “She even offered to shower with me this morning.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” he replies as if I had to ask. “But it was weird.” He shakes his head. “Like she’s my sister now or something.”
Interesting. I’m pretty sure Iron was her first. There was a time when they had a lot of fun together.
Before it ended, and I wound up in bed with her.
With the limited population in the Bay, it’s not hard to sleep with half the eligible women, but what sucks is they’re most likely going to be one of your friends’—or brothers’—wives someday.
Thankfully, Sanoa Bay men are big fans of water under the bridge.
I finish my shot. We’re not all that different from St. Carmen, I guess. The important distinction is that we don’t sleep with people who are taken, and we don’t use it to control one another.
“What the hell are you doing?” someone screams.
Iron and I jolt, only to find Liv standing outside the kitchen door, gaping at the girls in the pool. “Put your clothes back on!”
Her dark glare shoots to us, and she charges over.
Ugh, shit.
“Dumbass,” she barks, her eyes on me for some reason. “Kids live here now.”
Oh, that’s why she’s looking at me. Iron’s out of practice. I glance up at the windows, making sure I don’t see my nephew. “Shit, I forgot.”
Liv swipes my bottle off the ground and looks behind her. “Santos!” she calls out to my brother’s friend as he hauls a tire into the garage. “Can you give these ladies a ride back to their hotels, please?”
He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s going to catch heat from his wife. I laugh to myself.
“Out!” Liv yells at the girls.
One by one, they scurry out of the water, the short one grabbing her bikini top with one last look at me.
The blonde carries her drink, spinning to smile at my sister as she passes. “Are you sure?” she taunts.
I snort. Women love the Jaegers, don’t they?
Plucking the bottle from Liv’s hand, I pour another shot, ignoring the girls and watching my sister turn away from us with a sigh to make sure they actually leave.
She takes the bottle again, but I barely register it. Reaching into my pocket, I start to take out my phone to check the time, but I stop.
It doesn’t matter. I should pay a visit to the Coldwells’ tonight. Let the town cameras pick me up at 6:00 a.m. leaving their house.
Or maybe I should fucking leave town for the rest of the week. Put in for a substitute and take off to Miami and let him wonder where the fuck I am as if he thinks two can’t play this game.
I drop my eyes. Or maybe I should just go to bed and go to work in the morning like there’s nothing wrong, because nothing is. Let him see how much he doesn’t matter and how focused I am on everything else.
That’s what the great philosophers would do. We can only control our reactions to things, blah, blah, blah.
But I’m fucking pissed.
“So Anna-Katherine helps you in the classroom?” Liv asks, kicking the beach balls back into the pool.
“Yeah, she’s a volunteer there.” I take a sip. “But she loves my room for some reason.”
“She likes you.” My sister grins at me. “Probably the first woman ever.”
“You don’t like me?”
“I love you,” she clarifies. “There’s a difference. Would I have your back? Absolutely. Would I trust you to plan my funeral? No, you’d dump me in the ocean.”
Iron lets out a quiet laugh. I simply shrug. “Our ancestors were pirates. It’s fitting.”
What’s wrong with a burial at sea? It’s better than that fucking cemetery, some commemoration to our descendants who might not be all that proud we’re still fighting for our lives.
I reach for the bottle, but Liv pulls her hand away. “What are you doing?” she scolds.
“Liv, I don’t need a mother.” I hood my eyes. “Give it to me.”