Page 65 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

“Who’s that?” Mom asks.

“That’s Lincoln.” When she looks confused, I add, “Dad’s stepbrother?”

She sniffs. “Oh. I remember him. Chloe! Are you nearly done?”

Interesting. She doesn’t want to hang around when Lincoln comes in. They must have met, maybe at her and Dad’s wedding long ago.

Chloe is already coming down the hall, and Mom ushers her out just as the kitchen door opens and Lincoln steps inside.

“Evelyn?” Lincoln says. “You home? Who’s here with you?”

“Bye, darling,” Mom says as the door closes behind them.

I lock up after them and lean against the wall, taking some weight off of my ankle. It doesn’t hurt much, but walking around all day hasn’t done me any favors.

Lincoln appears from around the kitchen, his brow furrowed and those brown eyes curious.

“It was just my mom and Chloe,” I say. “We went wedding dress shopping today.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

I hold up a hand. “Don’t judge me, okay? I’m trying to keep my family together through a shitty situation.”

He leans back and says, “I’m not judging you. I’m judging them. Fucking assholes, asking this of you.”

“I agreed to it,” I say.

“They shouldn’t have asked.”

“You’re right, but I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I say.

He looks me up and down, then stops at my ankles. “You hurting?”

“Not really. Just going to rest for a bit.”

“I have to shower off the construction site. Give me a shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” I watch as he walks up the stairs, his powerful legs moving him forward. There’s a subdued strength to him, a quiet command. I squeeze my thighs together and tell myself I’m happy to mess around with Caleb and I don’t need anything or anyone else.

But I know what it’s like to have the two of them in a room together, their focus entirely on me.

Maybe I’ll go take a “nap” while thinking of the two of them and using a vibrator. I’ll take myself on a trip down memory lane, straight into Club Vice and that upstairs room they took me to. Only in my fantasy, the three of us are truly together, both men fucking me.

Closing my eyes, I allow the scene to play out.

Maybe, in my fantasy, I’d let one of them take my ass.

Before I can discard that thought as far too dirty for even a fantasy, the doorbell rings. I freeze in place. If it’s Mom, I’m going to throw a fit. Lincoln’s right. I’m so over her treatment, all of it. I just want my mother to love me but I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen, no matter how much I debase myself for Chloe’s benefit.

It isn’t Mom standing on the front porch, though—it’s Troy. His hazel eyes are hidden behind sunglasses. He’s wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts, and sweating in the late afternoon heat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask. “Did Chloe send you? I told her, I’m not moving back home. I told our mom, too.”

“Uh, Chloe doesn’t know, actually. I wanted to talk to you.”

I have to admit to myself, I’m curious what he could possibly have to say, and that curiosity is the only thing keeping me from slamming the door in his face.

I remain in the open doorway, not moving aside to invite him in. “So, talk.”

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