“To be with him? Hell, no.” I forced a smirk. “I defrosted the last of the leftovers from the food Christine brought last week.” Of course, Brenner didn’t know the real reason the sight of Preston Lively sent my mood swinging wildly between uncaring and wanting to punch his face in.
“In that case, it’s six o’clock. Do you have anything else to handle, or do you want to leave? I could take a cab if—”
“I’m ready. Just let me shut down a few things, and I’ll meet you in reception.”
Brenner left, and I powered off the computer and was about to shut off the television, when the station aired some reporter interviewing my father and his wife. Even though I said I didn’t care, I couldn’t turn off the broadcast. His arm was wrappedaround her waist, and she held little Emily, who, as my father was making his talking points, held out her arms and babbled, “Daddy, Daddy.”
“Oh, she’s precious,” the reporter gushed. “A real daddy’s girl.”
“There’s my sweet baby.” He took her in his arms and kissed her blond wispy curls. “Yes, she is. I spend all my free time with her. There’s nothing like having a little girl. A true blessing.”
“Oh, the cuteness,” I snarled, my already crappy mood turning dark. No. It wasn’t little Emily’s fault. The blame rested totally on my father. Paige was nineteen when he’d hired her as his personal assistant, and after my mother died in the middle of my father’s third term, she’d stepped right in her place. Nothing like having a stepmother younger than you.
“How does your son feel about his little sister? Of course, there’s a huge age difference, but is he as doting as you?”
I stilled and held my breath, waiting to hear what my father would say.
“My son has a very busy life in New York City, and unfortunately, he hasn’t had the time. But Emily is still young, and I’m sure they’ll be close and Weston will be a big brother to her if she needs it.”
Paige flipped the gleaming blond hair that hung well past her shoulders, sunlight catching the massive diamond on her finger. “We’re hoping Weston will join us for a family celebration real soon.” She flashed a perfect, camera-ready smile.
“Don’t count on it,” I muttered and stabbed at the remote to turn it off. I gathered my things and left, and found Brenner waiting for me. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you stand for so long.”
He shot me an odd look. “I wasn’t. I just came out about a minute ago.”
I could see Brenner was becoming more adept on the crutches, and his face was almost healed from the scrapes and bruises.
“How’s the ankle doing?”
“Better. It’s all different colors and still puffy, but not as much. Hopefully at my next appointment, my doctor’ll say I can start putting some weight on it soon.”
“Good. That’ll be a relief. The black eye is fading too. It’s now only a little green and yellow.” Our conversation remained stilted. I helped him into the car, and he sat stiff when I leaned over him to click the seat belt in place. I had a crazy notion of kissing him, for no other reason than to see what he’d do. I always had been one to push the envelope. However, because we were in a public garage, I refrained.
At home we separated to change clothes, and I came out first and decided to get dinner ready. The night before, we’d had chicken parm and broccoli. The last tray was eggplant rollatini and chicken marsala, so I heated that up with pasta. It was plated and ready by the time Brenner joined me.
“This is domestic,” I joked, pushing the plate to him.
“I’ll probably be healed enough to go home this weekend. I’ll see what the doctor says. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your apartment to yourself.”
Brenner chewed his food, and I did the same, with less of an appetite than I’d had for the delicious food. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t mind. We chatted about our cases and other things that happened during the day, and though he’d only been here about a week, he fit right in.
With the meal finished and the dishwasher loaded, I stood in the kitchen, watching Brenner make his way to the living room. I had two devils on my shoulders—my father on one side and Brenner on the other.
My father I could deal with. I shut his lying, cheating ass out, and that was that. Brenner was a different matter. We were deliberately ignoring each other and what had happened—twice now—between us. I couldn’t figure out if it was because he was too scared to continue or freaked out that he wanted to.
Me? I didn’t know either, but something urged me to scratch that itch and see. The first time I could write off as a fluke—being drunk and horny led to many unintended consequences. But last week wasn’t a mistake. I’d wanted to kiss him—hell, I’d been fucking hungry for him. So yeah, curiosity was definitely spurring me on.
Brenner turned on the television, and of course the stations were all carrying election news. It was primary day here in New York for city council seats as well as other positions, but not in my district, so I didn’t care. The reporters, naturally, were concentrating on the presidential race.
“Sorry, I can turn it off.” Brenner reached for the remote, but I snatched it away.
“No. It’s fine,” I reassured him. “I’m actually curious to see what happens. I’m going to get a snack and something to drink. What do you want?”
“Uh, it doesn’t matter. Beer is fine.”
I poured some chips into a bowl and put it on the table. To hell with beer—this was a job for vodka. I prepared two tumblers with ice, took the bottle from the refrigerator, and set everything on a tray. Laughing, Brenner took his.
“This is how I know we grew up differently. I would’ve shoved the bottle under my arm and carried the two glasses.”
