Chapter 11
Verity was wearing the same cutoffs she’d had on that day a few weeks ago when she’d strolled into DiFonzio’s Auto Garage, her nephew in tow, and asked Reed to get ice cream with them.
She’d had them on later that night, too, when he’d met her at the lake.
They were short, the bottom of the front pockets peeking out from beneath the frayed hem. They were tight, the light-colored denim molding to the curves of her hips and thighs.
Reed dreamed of her in those cutoffs. Jerked off to the memory of her standing in the garage in them and a clinging white tank top, her hair pulled back into a smooth ponytail.
He hated those fucking shorts.
Hated them even more today. She’d paired them with a bright pink crop top that clung to her amazing tits and left two inches of her stomach on display. She was barefoot and makeup free, her dark red hair in a messy bun, several curling pieces loose and framing her face.
She was so pretty it made his chest ache.
He hated that, too. How she stole his breath. How she made him want something he had no right wanting.
Something he could never, ever have.
He hated how much he thought about her and that he was jealous of the guy she’d been talking to when she’d answered the door.
The guy who’d said he loved her.
“You,” Verity snarled when the blonde reached the bottom of the porch steps, her tone vibrating with fury.
The blonde jerked her head up, her face going white. But then, she pulled back her shoulders, lifted her chin and schooled her expression, the previous unease there replaced with a polite smile.
Blondie was good at hiding her emotions.
“Verity, right?” she asked, climbing the steps. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself when we met before.” She held out her hand. “I’m Tabitha.”
Mouth pursed, Verity crossed her arms, leaving the blonde—Tabitha—hanging.
It was the rudest thing he’d ever seen her do.
And it was killing her. A guilty flush filled her cheeks at this little rebellion against good manners and proper etiquette.
“We didn’t meet before.” Uncrossing her arms, she covered her nephew’s ears. “You slept with my brother,” Verity whispered harshly. “Accused him of being the worst kind of creep, and then left without so much as an oops, my bad.”
Smile straining at the edges, Tabitha lowered her hand. “You have a very good memory. And obviously hold on to a grudge as well as your brother.”
“When the situation calls for it,” Verity said, shooting a hard glance at Reed, “I can hold onto one even better.”
He got it. She was pissed at him. Wanted nothing to do with him. Had even tried to ignore him at his boss’s wedding two weeks ago.
Another thing Reed had hated.
He didn’t like her pretending he didn’t exist.
Even if he had been the one to ignore her first.
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here. And why are you meeting him?” — she jerked a thumb in his direction— “You know you can set age parameters on dating apps, right? Because after what you accused Miles of, you being with an eighteen year old isn’t exactly a good look.”
“We didn’t connect on a dating app,” Tabitha said. “I met Reed at The Cockeyed Chameleon last night and hired him to help me move.”
Verity’s eyes widened. “Move where?”
“Here. I’m renting the upstairs apartment.”
“You’re kidding,” Verity said, flat and final. “You have to be kidding because I refuse to accept or believe otherwise.”
“And what Verity Jennings wants,” he muttered. “Verity Jennings gets.”
She stiffened by slow degrees. “At least I’m not afraid to be honest about what I want. I’m not afraid to go after it.”
No, she wasn’t afraid. She’d stood at the lake a few weeks back, looked him in the eyes and told him she liked him. That she wanted to spend more time with him.
She’d told him he could kiss her. That she wanted him to.
He hadn’t turned her down because he’d been afraid.
He’d been fucking terrified.
Tabitha cleared her throat. “I’m not kidding. And I’d like to pick up my key.” She peered behind Verity’s shoulder into the house. “Is Katarina Caputo here?”
“That’s my mom,” the kid piped up, peeking around Verity’s side. “She’s at work.”
Tabitha’s smile softened, looking way more real than the one she’d aimed Verity’s way. She crouched so she was eye level with the kid. “Looks like we’re going to be neighbors, then. I’m Tabitha.”
And she once again held out her hand.
Unlike his aunt, he shook it. “I’m Ian Jennings. Nice to meet you.”
“Polite kid,” Reed murmured to Verity. “You might want to take some notes, princess.”
She opened her mouth, more than likely to rip him a new one using big words and a snotty tone guaranteed to prove her superior intelligence, but then Tabitha spoke again.
“Jennings?” she asked, head tipped to the side as she studied the kid. “Is Urban your dad?” The kid shook his head. “Toby?”
Another shake. “My dad’s Silas.”
Verity leapt in front of the kid, tucked him behind her like she was shielding him. “How do you know my brothers’ names? Are you stalking Miles? Is that why you’re moving here? You’re obsessed with him and our family and you want to insert yourself into our lives?”
Frowning, Tabitha straightened. “You have a very active imagination, don’t you?”
“Yes. But that has nothing to do with this and it’s certainly not an answer to any of my questions. More like an evasion.” She unlocked her phone and pushed a button. “I’m calling Miles.”
Reed slouched back against the rail.
Fuck.
He and Verity’s cop brother had a history. While Reed knew he’d never be able to put his past behind him, he’d hoped his future would be free of Miles Jennings.
The cop didn’t answer. Frown deepening, Verity hung up.
“If you’re done,” Tabitha said, smile long gone, as Verity typed something into her phone—a text to the cop, no doubt, “could you please get me my key? I’d like to get started moving in.”
Verity lifted her phone, snapped a pic of the blonde, then sent it before tucking her phone into her back pocket. “Ha. I don’t think so. What if you’re not the woman who’s supposed to move in? What if you, like, hit the real Tabitha over the head and are keeping her hostage in your basement while you take over her identity?”
Tabitha pulled her phone from a side pocket in her leggings. “I have the text from Mr. Roberts telling me to pick up the key here.” She opened her phone, scrolled and then turned the screen toward Verity. “See?”
“You could have copied that. Or stolen it. Or it could just be a fake.”
“I realize we got off on the wrong foot,” Tabitha said, lowering her phone. “Maybe we can start fresh?”
Princess Verity wrinkled her nose. “That’s your apology? Needs some work. Like, a lot of work.”
“I really need to get into the apartment now. I only have the rental truck until noon.”
Verity shrugged, all high and mighty and on one hell of a power trip. “And I can’t, in good conscience, give you the key until I hear back from Miles.”
Then she opened her phone and started scrolling Instagram.
It was the second rudest thing he’d ever seen her do.
Girl was on a roll.
Tabitha stared at her for a second before crossing the small porch and going down the steps.
He should take off.
He didn’t know Tabitha. Sure as hell didn’t owe her anything. But there was something about her that poked at his protective instincts.
Protective instincts he’d only ever had for his mother until Verity showed up at his door needing his help a few weeks ago.
Fuck his life.
“Get the key,” he told Verity.
She flicked him a dismissive glance. “Not until after I hear back from Miles.”
Reed looked down. Caught her nephew watching him.
“Why don’t you go get Titus some water?”
The kid turned to go inside, but Verity stopped him by taking a hold of his arm. “Uh, first of all, don’t tell my nephew what to do. Second, he has a name. Which you very well know. And third, if you’d like Ian to do something for you, you need to ask. Politely. Just because he’s seven doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be treated with respect.”
He inclined his head toward the blonde who was talking on her phone as she paced next to her car. “Like you treated her with respect?”That seemed to stump her. Or just pissed her off enough that she was unable to speak for a moment.
Not going to lie. The silence was nice.
“Ian, would you go and get Titus some water?” he asked, deliberately leaving off the one word Verity wanted him to say.
Please.
Christ knew it would do her some good, not getting what she wanted all the time.
With a nod, the kid tugged free of Verity’s hold then went inside.
Eyes narrowed to slits, she glared at Reed with enough heat to fry his balls. “You should have brought water for Titus, especially since you knew he’d be stuck in your truck for at least an hour. It’s irresponsible and sel—”
“Selfish. Got that in your in first lecture.”
“Well, it is. And I don’t lecture. My brothers lecture. I share my thoughts.”
“No shit. But not everyone cares to know what you think or how you feel about every goddamn thing.”
“Maybe not, but at least people don’t have to guess what I’m thinking or feeling or where I stand on certain issues. There’s no confusion or assumptions. It’s quite altruistic of me, really. Me putting my truth out there, sharing it with others so they, in turn, can feel free to share theirs with me.”
She smirked, looking so pleased with herself, so expectant, like at any moment someone was going to pin a shiny gold star to her chest.
He didn’t know the exact definition of altruistic, but he could guess.
The princess had a high opinion of herself.
“It’s not about being truthful. You want to prove how special you are. How smart. How much better than everyone else.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “Excuse me?”
He gestured at Tabitha. “You don’t like her? She gets it. We all get it.”
“You don’t know what she did. I have reason not to like her.”
“She fucked your brother. I doubt she’s the first chick to make that mistake. Get over it.”
She twitched, her leg lifting an inch, like she was about to stomp her foot but then caught herself just in time. “That’s not the issue. It’s what she did afterwards and the fact that she never apologized for it.”
“She insult you?”
“She insulted Miles.”
“The person she owes the apology to is him, then. Not you. Like I said. Get over it.”
“He’s my brother and I will not stand idly by while his reputation and good name is maligned.”
“He’s a grown ass man. He doesn’t need you fighting his battles for him. And you being pissed at Tabitha doesn’t give you the right to stop her from moving into an apartment she’s rented.”
“I’m not stopping her. I’m just waiting for confirmation that she’s who she says she is. At the most, I’m delaying her.”
“She told you the rental truck’s due back in a few hours.”
“So she might have to pay for another hour or two. Big deal.”
“How old’s your car?”
She frowned. “What?”
“Your car? How old is it?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. “Two years? Three?”
“One year.”
“You make payments on it?”
“No,” she said, the one word ground out from between her gritted teeth.
“Why not?”
Her mouth went flat. Her lips sealed shut.
“Why. Not.”
“My brother bought it. But it’s not even in my name.”
“But you get to drive it? Whenever you want?”
“Not whenever I want. I had it taken away from me for two weeks after that night you helped me get it out of the ditch.”
As if that was some form of extreme and painful punishment.
Christ, but she really was a princess.
“You pay for the insurance on it?” he asked. “Repairs? Maintenance?”
“I don’t see wha—”
“You foot the bill for your cellphone? Pitch in for your family’s groceries? Are you getting loans to go to college?”
She crossed her arms again. “No.”
“No to which?”She sent him a look that said she wanted to skewer his balls on a stick and roast them over an open flame.
While they were still attached to him.
“No to all,” she muttered.
“Paying for an extra hour or two of a rental wouldn’t be a big deal to you because you wouldn’t be the one paying for it. But to her?” He jerked his head in Tabitha’s direction. “To someone whose car is over twelve years old and, from the sound of it when she pulled in, needs new brake pads; to someone who can fit everything they own into the back of a rental van; to someone who’s renting a second-floor apartment in a house that needs painted, a new porch, a new roof and Christ knows what else? It’s a hell of a big deal.”
Something in Verity’s eyes shifted, something that looked a hell of a lot like guilt. But then she lifted her chin, pulling her shoulders back, ready to battle to the bitter end.
“If it turns out she is who she says she is, and if she really is supposed to move in upstairs, and if she ends up owing extra for the rental because of this delay, I’ll cover it. With my own money.”
She was stubborn.
And even more entitled than he’d realized.
He edged closer, noting how her eyes widened slightly. How her breath stuttered out of her parted lips. Even now, when he was calling her on her bullshit, when she was so pissed at him that she was vibrating with anger, when the differences between them were slapping him upside the head, the pull between them was still there.
And so strong, he knew if he touched her, if he gave in, even once, those differences wouldn’t matter.
“Stop being such a fucking spoiled brat,” he said soft, but no less brutal, “and get the goddamn key.”
Her head jerked back, hard and fast, and she made a sound, a low whimper, like he’d just punched her in the stomach.
Like he’d hurt her.
Again.
Face bright red, eyes suspiciously bright, she whirled around, ran inside and slammed the door shut.
Shoving his hands into his front pockets he glared at the door, wanting to pound on the wood and demand she open it.
If only so he could make sure she was okay.
Fuck that. He had no reason to feel guilty. It wasn’t his job to coddle her or to check on her.
She wasn’t his to protect.
Even if he had defended her against her cop brother that night when he’d found her with Reed on the side of the road.
She wasn’t his to please.
Although, yeah, he had left work to get ice cream with her and the kid just because she’d asked him to.
She wasn’t his to be jealous over.
Like he’d been when they’d been at the ice cream shop and some asshole who’d graduated a year above them had flirted with her.
And she sure as hell wasn’t his to save.
But he’d done it anyway, dancing with her at the wedding because she’d looked sad and lonely sitting at a table with her brothers.
She wasn’t his. In any way, shape, or form.
But she could’ve been.