Page 3 of Taming Her Temptations

“I don’t get it.” Asher shakes his head. “This house is full of expensive things. And you risk being arrested for this?”

“Luckily, you don’t need to understand.” I grab the mug, wrapping it back in bubble wrap, and I shove it back in the box. I press the lid back on the box and lift it.

I head to exit the kitchen but turn around. “Have a good life. I’m going to change the radio station when your songs come-”

I don’t get to finish. Instead, my eyes lock onto a small black-and-white photo taped to the refrigerator door behind Asher.

The box slips through my hands and I don’t know if the loud sound is the thud of the falling box or my heart hitting the ground.

“She’s…” I start. “They’re…”

“Shit,” Levi mutters, taking a step closer to me. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

He bends down and picks up the box, then guides me by the shoulders towards the front door.

“Let me drive you home,” he offers.

I just shake my head. “How far along?”

“It’s not my right to discuss-”

“How far along?” I interrupt him with a raised voice, my eyes still frozen on the ultrasound photo.

“She’s due in August” He at least has the decency to look ashamed. As he damn well should be. Both for being related to her and for being associated with my ex.

Because that means that while I was preparing our Christmas dinner, asking him if he’d be ready to start trying for our own family someday, he had already impregnated another woman.

“Let us drive you home.” Levi is whispering now, as if I’m a horse he doesn’t want to startle.

“I don’t need a goddamn thing from you.” I snatch my box out of his hands and walk out the front door. This time, truly feeling like the house isn’t mine anymore.

CHAPTER TWO

Ruby

Concern overtakes my dad's usual easy-going face. His overgrown white eyebrows knit together as I take another sip.

“You’re hitting the punch a little hard, don’t you think, gemstone?” He says with a tight smile.

I clutch my rabbit mug close. No one is taking my Easter punch away. This little bunny filled to the brim with fruity alcohol is the only thing giving me a glimmer of joy right now. Thank god none of them broke when I dropped them. It might have just made me catatonic.

“How did you manage to get mom’s punch set back from Shithead Steve, anyway?” My brother Ryan asks me as he plops down on the old green velvet couch next to me. It’s the same couch we’ve had since childhood and we always settle into the same spots as if they’re assigned.

“He’s on vacation,” I say into my mug. Probably the fewer details, the better.

“Ruby,” my dad assesses me. “Tell me you didn’t break into the house.”

“Okay, I didn’t break into his house.” I tug the porcelain ears towards my lips. “But actually, I did,” I admit as I look anywhere but in my dad’s eyes.

“I would have done it for ya.” Ryan raises his glass to me.

“Awe, cheers. I appreciate that.” We clink the bunny butts together. “But it would have prevented me from finding out just how much shittier Shithead Steve is than we realized.”

“Can we lighten up on that nickname around Daisy?” Ryan’s wife Jessica shouts from the kitchen as she bangs pots with their two-year-old daughter Daisy on the floor.

“You’re going to even want Daisy calling him that when I tell you what I found out today,” I shout back at her. She’s like a sister at this point, so I can get away with it.

I feel both the eyes of the Rivers men on me, waiting for me to elaborate. Jessica comes to the doorframe, curiosity piqued.

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