Page 3 of Return By Fire

I cross one expensively shod foot over the other and stare with utter boredom at the half-naked woman my mother has paraded back and forth in front of me. It’s like she’s leading a Thoroughbred horse around on a lead line, I think.

Then a woman in a silk ball gown sneaks out the veranda doors, and I shoot to my feet. My mother and—oh, hell. What’s her name? Astrid? Chrysanthemum? I know it was some flower, wasn’t it? They fall back with identical smiles. I cringe inside even as I worry about the unique woman in the tawny dress alone on the balcony. There are too many predators around tonight.

And I don’t mean the kind you can make designer handbags from.

“If you’ll excuse me?” I nod politely, grateful my grandparents’ lessons about manners included the people I most wanted to pitch into the St. John’s River.

“Of course, dear. Now, Zinnia—” Right, Zinnia. I forget about the vapid little money-hungry wench as I make my way through the crowd out another set of doors.

I can’t help but chuckle when I spy the woman checking in both directions before reaching beneath her seat for an enormous textbook. I shuffle toward her, careful to avoid a full view from the people milling around my parents’ ballroom. As soon as I’m close enough to block her light, her head snaps up—horror in every line of her expression. I tease, “Kara, sweetheart, what are you doing?”

Amber eyes matching mine down to the brown rings and flecks narrow in frustration. “I have a final tomorrow, Dean. I’m trying to find a quiet place to finish studying.”

My brows shoot upward as I shove my baby sister over. Younger by six years, Kara’s already a senior at the University of Florida at nineteen. “Then why did you drive back from Gainesville today?”

Her eyes roll. “Can you imagine the nonsense I’d have had to listen to if I missed Mother’s birthday? Please. It was easier to accept the fact I’ll be exhausted.”

“What a crock,” I inform her bluntly. I pluck the book from her lap and almost strain my wrist lifting it. “Christ, did they combine all your books into one this year?”

She frowns thoughtfully. “No, that’s prep work for my master’s classes.”

I run a finger down her nose and bop the end. “No rest for the genius?”

She elbows me. “You’re just as smart as I am.”

I lope an arm around her shoulders. She snuggles against me like we’ve been doing since she was two and used to crawl into my bed when thunderstorms would strike our family’s house near the beach.

Our parents—of course—would be out for the evening.

“I may be as smart, but I’m lazy.” I wink at her to show I’m kidding. After all, I’ve been a fireman for four years. It’s a requirement—one made necessary by our grandfather on his deathbed. Even though we knew he and our Grams loved us, he was fond of saying, “I didn’t take the easy way out. You won’t either. You’ll work before you’ll see a dime. I’ll see to it.” As an homage to the old man— a fireman in his youth—I became one just a few years ago.

Much more than the trust I stand to inherit as Dean Kevin Malone of the Jacksonville Malones, I wonder how much I’d give to have the ability to be open about who I really am. Nothing about freedom is free, my grandfather used to remind me. Now, I appreciate the words so much more. Just a few more months and freedom won’t be simply a word—it will be tangible. Something I no longer have to rely on my parents for.

If only I could work up the courage to tell them all to go to hell and live the way I want to, I think grimly.

Kara lays her head against my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

I blink down at the small bundle I’m holding. Automatically, I answer, “Nothing.”

Kara tips her head back and smirks knowingly. “You mean nothing that taking Senator Wesson’s son up on his offer won’t help?”

My hand comes up and slaps across her mouth. My head whips from side to side before I whisper, “You know?”

Batting my hand down, Kara gives me a look that screams, oh please. “I flirt with him, and he has the same expression on his face you did when Zinnia Potter tried her wiles on you.”

I stuff my fist in my mouth to muffle my shout of laughter.

This deters my sister not in the least. “You say hello, and he’s ready to drop to his knees.” With a calculating expression, Kara murmurs, “At least I know who to go to for tips on how to give a blowjob.”

I affect a shocked face freeing my hand from my lips. “You mean this is something the birthday bitch wouldn’t help you with?”

“I’m not certain she would know where to find Father’s,” Kara declares bluntly.

I affect my most haughty expression and mimic our mother’s snooty tones. “I would if I knew my efforts would be appreciated.”

Kara flutters her eyelashes before glancing away bashfully. It’s an almost perfect impersonation of our father. She mocks, “What do you mean, dear?”

I continue our charade. “I mean, if you wish for me to incorporate sploshing—”

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