Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2) Page 9

  Although at that moment, he was shooting his cousin a grin.

  It was a real-deal, tolerant kind of smile. The look of someone who’d affectionately resigned himself to living with a guy who shot-gunned beer and brought home pretty girls like Shay the way other guys brought home a pizza.

  Was that smile something I would have to learn too?

  “Not bad, right?”

  My eyes swung back to Ian.

  “You look nice,” I agreed awkwardly.

  “I don’t mean me. I mean them.” Ian laughed as he inclined his head toward Ridley and Shay. “Make a nice couple.”

  I blushed. “Oh. Yeah. They’re all right.”

  I wanted it to be a lie, but truthfully, Ridley looked more than comfortable with the redhead sandwiched between his arms while he stirred the cheese into the pasta.

  Ian leaned in, and his closeness made my stomach turn. His next words made it that much worse.

  “There was a time when my cousin would’ve tapped that without even blinking. Hell. He would’ve tapped anything with tits.”

  Was my first real conversation with the father of my child really going to be about Ridley’s sexual appetite? And was it really going to contain the word tits?

  I forced myself to answer lightly. “When did that stop? Last week?”

  Ian chuckled. “I fucking wish. I swear it’s been years since I’ve even seen the sonofabitch kiss a girl. I’d pay good money to see it happen.”

  He kissed me, I thought.

  Did that mean something significant? Or was Ridley just better at keeping his indiscretions away from Ian’s prying eyes than Ian believed? I wanted it to be the former. And I also knew I shouldn’t care.

  I opened my mouth to change the subject, but Ian wasn’t done talking. He leaned even closer.

  “Actually,” he said conspiratorially. “I did pay good money to see it happen.”

  My mouth went a little dry. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Shay over there? She’s a call girl.”

  The nausea I’d been fighting since the second I walked in their door suddenly overwhelmed me. Without a word, I shoved my chair backwards and ran for the bathroom.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ridley

  In two seconds flat, I went from putting on the best, most cheerful fucking act of my life, to pacing the kitchen, barely able to control my agitation.

  The only thing stopping me from tearing off after Brenna was my audience.

  Shay kept looking from me to Ian to the chair Brenna had knocked over, then back again. It was the longest she’d gone without touching her phone since she walked in.

  Ian swore he didn’t say anything to upset Brenna, but he was now wearing a nervous smile, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking.

  Five minutes. I’ll give her five more minutes.

  I glanced up at Ian’s ridiculous, free-with-purchase beer can clock. It was the first time I’d ever appreciated the fact that the stupid thing hung in my kitchen. It clicked over.

  Four minutes.

  “So. Listen. Rid.” My cousin sounded more hesitant than I’d ever known him to sound before.

  “What, Ian?” My reply was just short of a snap.

  “Is your girl…uh…a bit…”

  “Is she a bit what?” I demanded.

  “Off?” Shay filled in.

  “No. She’s not off,” I told them angrily, then added belatedly, “And she’s not my girl.”

  Three minutes.

  “Just…” Ian still sounded nervous. “It would explain why you set me up with her. You know. The way you did. Because she’s hot enough, but if she’s all kinds of crazy…”

  “Would you just shut up?” I growled. “She could be listening.”

  “Or she could be halfway to Tibet,” Shay offered.

  “She’s in the damned bathroom,” I replied. “I heard the door slam.”

  Fuck the last two minutes.

  I strode from the kitchen to the hall and paused when I heard Brenna talking out loud to herself on the other side of the bathroom door.

  “You can do this,” she said.

  The determined statement was at odds with the tremor in her voice, making whatever “this” was sound unrealistic. She spoke again, this time in a whisper.

  “Maybe I can’t do this.”

  Her words were sad enough to make my own heart drop.

  I tapped on the door. “You all right in there, Pancake?”

  Her answer came a little too quickly to be truthful. “Yes!”

  I tried another tactic. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you knocked over Ian and gave him a black eye.”

  She flung open the door.

  When she’d torn by me a few minutes earlier, her face had been a little pale. Now it was drawn and dripping with water. The tiny bit of makeup she’d been wearing was non-existent. Even her ponytail looked forlorn.

  Only her eyes were lively, and even then only because they were filled with embarrassed horror.

  “I did what?!”

  I forced a grin. “Just kidding.”

  She sagged against the doorframe. “Hilarious.”

  “I thought so.”

  She tried to slam the door, but my bare foot wedged it open.

  “I know you’re annoyed at me,” I said. “But I don’t think you can justify breaking one of my toes.”

  Brenna sighed and let go of the door. “Why’re you even checking on me? Is Shay already wet enough?”

  As the words left her mouth, she swayed a little and I couldn’t hold my grin any longer. I reached out one hand to steady her while I used the other to feel her forehead. It was cool but clammy.

  “You really don’t look well,” I said.

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  My hand moved down her face to her chin, which I tipped up so she was forced to meet my eyes. “Hey. I’m not being an asshole. If you’re sick, I’ll take you home and put on some chicken noodle soup or some tea or something.”

  “I’m not sick. I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “Nothing. Ian is wearing a lot of cologne and I’ve been a little sensitive to smell lately. That’s all.”

  I knew she was lying. But I also knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be able to force the truth out of her. The determined set of her jaw was visible even through her pallor.

  So I made a joke instead. “I’d apologize on my cousin’s behalf, but I don’t want to start a trend I can’t keep up with.”

  She relaxed and smiled weakly. “This is a pretty terrible first date.”

  “Puke-worthy,” I agreed.

  “Ew.”

  “Don’t feel too bad, though. I’m sure it’s not the worst date Ian’s had.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That Ian’s had?”

  “Hey, he tried.”

  “That’s what has me worried.”

  “I swear he had you guys booked into a nice restaurant. Chez Pierre.”

  She eyed me thoughtfully. “You booked the reservation yourself, didn’t you?”

  “I may have used a few industry connections to get you in,” I admitted.

  “Figures.” She sounded miserable.

  What was it about this girl that made me want to soothe all that away?

  “The cancellation wasn’t his fault, PC. And all this stuff going on out there…That was Ian’s attempt to make it work anyway. He cared enough about the date to make a complete idiot of himself. And of course to destroy my fucking kitchen in the process.” I nudged Brenna’s shoulder. “There’s not much I can do but smile about it, Pancake.”

  “Apparently, you’re better at it than I am.”

  “I’ve had years of practice,” I pointed out, still smiling. “And as weird as it sounds, I owe that jerk my life. When things were at their absolute lowest point for me, Ian and his mom took me in. I had no one. And then I had them.”

  “Your own parents are both gone?” she asked softly.
<
br />   “A long time now,” I confirmed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. And I spent a long time making everyone around me suffer because of it.” I went quiet for a full minute, marvelling over the fact that it was so easy to tell her these things I didn’t normally share with anyone. And then I let some more tumble out too. “The other thing about Ian is this…When I moved in with them, I was a fucking disaster. My cousin’s only a year younger than I am, but he seemed even younger than that back then. Still playing with toys trucks in the sand while I was out committing grand theft auto with the real thing. But Ian worshipped me. He tried to do everything I did. All his shitty behavior toward girls and his inability to see past his own overinflated ego…Those things are on me. On my bad example. Two years trying to live up to my juvenile-detention-center self…That’s what brought him down. So if he wants to bring me a girl, and if he wants me to be nice to her for an evening, I’ll do it just to show him how it should be done.”

  When I finished, Brenna’s face betrayed a wave of emotions. Understanding. Sadness. Appreciation. Concern mixed with something that looked like horror.

  “You still all right, PC?” I asked.

  “Shay’s an escort,” she blurted in response.

  One of my eyebrows went up.

  Well. That explains her expression.

  “Are you telling me this as a concerned friend?” I teased.

  She ignored my question. “Ian told me he paid her to be your date tonight.”

  “Well, thanks, Pancake. But I already knew.”

  “You knew?”

  I shrugged. “She told me Ian only paid her enough for the date and if I wanted the girlfriend experience, she’d need double. Apparently cooking together is outside her job description.”

  “On what planet are you okay with this?”

  I took her hand and squeezed it tightly as I said the first thing that came to mind. “On the planet that makes you happy because it gets you your date with Ian.”

  She floundered. “Oh. Um. Uh. Oh.”

  I grinned. “Plus, I really think he meant well.”

  “By getting you a hooker?”

  I winked. “By guaranteeing me a good time.”

  Her face went a little pink, but it wasn’t the blush I was used to seeing in her cheeks. She looked almost angry.

  Why would she be angry?

  Because she’s jealous.

  The answer popped up immediately, but I didn’t get a chance to confirm whether or not it was true.

  “Are you going to do it?” she asked in a rush.

  I stiffened and pulled my hand away. “You mean am I going to do her?”

  Her reply was a whisper. “Yes.”

  “What do you think, Pancake? Should I? Would I?”

  “Ian told me you used to sleep with any girl who came your way.”

  “Did he now?” I replied darkly. “What else did my dearest cousin say?”

  Brenna squirmed at my tone and she eyed the hall like she was looking for an escape route.

  No way in hell was she getting away that easily.

  Without warning, my arms shot up to the wall, blocking her in.

  Her gaze moved to the space between my shoulders and the wall.

  Nope.

  I dragged my palms down so they were at level with her waist. She had no way out.

  “I’m waiting,” I stated, my voice low and dangerous.

  Brenna swallowed nervously. “He said it’s been years since you’ve even kissed a girl.”

  “I guess you and I both know that’s not true.”

  My hands were no longer just at her waist. They were so close that my wrists brushed up against it.

  Brenna stifled a gasp.

  I smiled.

  “I happen to have become very…Very. Selective,” I said slowly.

  I leaned in, every hard plane of my body pressed almost – but not quite – into the curves of hers.

  Goose bumps formed along her bare arms.

  She took a breath and it sent her chest up into mine.

  I inched closer.

  My lips were near enough to hers that I could feel their heat.

  “Rid!”

  Ian’s holler made me pull away, but my gaze stayed on Brenna’s face. I wanted her to beg me to follow through with the kiss.

  “Rid?” Ian’s voice was a little closer.

  “Yeah, man,” I called back as I dropped my hands from the wall. “Just waiting for your girl to finish up.”

  Ian’s girl.

  Jesus. I’d almost forgotten she was there for him.

  “She all right?” Ian asked.

  “Relax,” I yelled. “It’s not like you’re paying Brenna by the hour.”

  Ian’s laugh echoed down the hall. “True enough.”

  Brenna’s face lit up bright red, and she put up a hand to push her way past me, but at the last second I grabbed her arm.

  “One more thing,” I said quietly. “As your concerned friend…I’m going to suggest that maybe what you should be asking is if Ian is the kind of guy who’d do a girl like Shay. Now. Let’s go eat before I decide to leave you to what will undoubtedly turn into a threesome.”

  “Ridley…” Her voice was small and hurt.

  I ignored the way it made my heart compress and strode toward the kitchen without looking back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brenna

  Dinner was a painful blur.

  Shay mentioned on at least five occasions that she wasn’t wearing underwear. After that I stopped counting.

  Ridley shovelled the mac and cheese into his mouth while I picked at mine.

  Ian seemed oblivious to the amount of tension in the room, cracking innuendo-filled jokes and talking about sports.

  And none of those things were the worst parts of the evening as it dragged on.

  The worst part was this – Ridley was right. I should’ve cared a hell of a lot more about why the father of my child had easy access to a girl like Shay than I should care about whether or not my concerned friend would use her services.

  But I didn’t.

  I even tried to talk myself into it. I worked on a mental list of why it should be the other way around. I would get started on it – What if Ian brought hookers around our son? What if he thought our son should have a hooker of his own? Or worse, what if we had a daughter? – and then my eyes would find Ridley. They’d stay there while my mind wandered to an image of him and Shay stripped down. Nausea would make my stomach churn. And I’d have to force my thoughts back to the present and to the baby before I could dwell on the consequences of the feelings I shouldn’t have.

  The second we finished eating, I mumbled an excuse about not feeling well, thanked Ian – but not Ridley – for dinner, and slid my chair out. I didn’t want to wait and see whose bed Shay ended up in.

  I scurried from the kitchen to the front entryway. As I slipped into my flats, a warm hand closed on my shoulder.

  Ridley.

  I wasn’t sure if I was more relieved or more annoyed that he followed me out. I chose to stick with the latter.

  “What now?” I snapped.

  But when I spun to face him, I found Ian instead.

  In spite of my tone, he grinned. “Thought I’d walk you home. But if you really object…”

  My face warmed. “No. That’s fine. Nice. Thank you, I mean.”

  “Thought I was Rid, didn’t you? When I grabbed you?”

  I was too drained to form a lie. “Yes.”

  Ian held the door open for me.

  “You two have some strange bug up your asses about each other, you know that?” he observed.

  I started to argue, but when I glanced at him, his expression was amused rather than bothered. In fact, as we crossed from their lawn to ours, he slipped his hand into mine.

  “He’s probably looking out the window, right now, being all pissed off,” Ian stated, his grin widening.

  I resisted an urge to yank
my hand away. “Why would he be mad? He’s probably already in bed with Shay.”

  Ian chuckled. “Are you kidding? Right before I followed you out, Shay called her boss to send a car. She said – and I quote – she needed to make up for the ride she wouldn’t be getting here tonight.”

  I managed a smile, then took a breath and made myself ask, “Do you know her personally?”

  “Shay? Yeah. Personally. But not personally, if you know what I mean.” Ian waggled his eyebrows. “Shay worked at my favorite juice bar before she moved up in the world.”

  I exhaled. I wasn’t sure if I agreed her career choice was an upward move and I had a hard time imagining Ian sipping wheatgrass, but I was glad he didn’t subscribe to Shay’s services.

  “I’m guessing this wasn’t the date you were hoping for,” Ian stated.

  Here it comes, I thought. The easy let-down.

  Not that I could blame him. And not that it actually felt all that terrible.

  Aside from one night of rock-your-world sex and the baby – which he didn’t even know about yet – I doubted we had a single thing in common. And Risa would help me find another way to break that news to him. Eventually.

  Maybe during birth, I reasoned.

  I braced myself to take it gracefully.

  Except Ian took my other hand in his and smiled. “I’d like to try again.”

  “You would?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.

  “Yeah, babe. Did you think I was going to just let you walk away?”

  My bewilderment kept me honest. “Kind of.”

  He laughed and pulled me a little closer. “I haven’t even got to the lovin’ part of love ’em and leave em’. You gotta give me a chance to make it up to you.”

  “What did you have in mind?” I replied, hoping I sounded more flirtatious than I felt.

  We’d stopped in front of my door. I willed myself not to compare how it felt to stand there with Ian right then to how it felt to stand there with Ridley a couple of nights earlier. But I couldn’t help it.

  With Ian, there was no electricity in the air. My stomach wasn’t flip flopping around. My hand in his wasn’t sweaty. My heart wasn’t pounding. I wasn’t fighting to keep from throwing my arms around him and pressing my lips to his.

  But maybe this is better.