Page 1 of Sinful Seduction
MINKA
“It’s so fuckin’ hot.” Sweat dribbles along Cato’s forehead and into dark green eyes, almost the same shade—but not the same shape—as my husband’s. He plops a heavy box on a pile of two others, then, bringing his arm up, he swipes his brow with the short sleeve of his shirt and hisses as sweat transfers into his eyes. “Remind me again why we’re the idiots frying our brains in the heat when there are people we could hire for it?”
“Something about helping family.” I drop my box—not as large or heavy as Cato’s—on the floor beside his pile and straighten out again. Even if I wanted to pretend the heat doesn’t bother me, I bring my hands up anyway and brush the hair off my face. “Something about having all this spare time, and how volunteering our efforts for those we love makes us better people…allegedly.”
“Yeah? Well, fuck that. I don’twantto be a better person.” He stomps across the expansive living room, this single room larger than my entire apartment twice over, and, tugging the cover down on the thermostat, he cranks the air conditioning until icy air blows through the vents and onto my moist skin.
The fact that every door and window sits wide open is a problem for someone else.
“I have never once in my entire life said I wanted to be a better person.” He smacks the cover back into place and spins on a pair ofexpensive Jordan high-tops. “In fact, I enjoy being a depraved, unkind, bastard son of a murderer. That kinda reputation keeps expectations low. So on the off chance I do something somewhat normal, I’m celebrated. And when I’m a prick, everyone shrugs. Because that’s what they expect of me.”
“Never thought I’d see the daymylittle brother complained less than someone else’s little brother.” Aubree strolls into the room with a box, a playful smirk teasing her lips and dancing eyes flickering between me and Cato. She sets her load down and hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “He tried the low expectations thing, too. How do you think that worked out for him?”
Duane Emeri is a prick, too, I guess. That’s what I’ve gathered from my observations over the last several months. But he follows his sister into the house and deposits his box with a grunt, deep lines marking his forehead and sweat dribbling over his temples. He firms his lips into straight lines, unspeaking, as he looks from one person to the next. He narrows his eyes and studies each of us, then he huffs and turns on his heels. “Whatever.”
“He’s getting grumpy.” Giggling, Aubree bounces her shoulders and scoots out of the way, making room for Tim and Archer as they carry a couch in. “The heat makes everyone cranky. It’s the same every single year.”
“Oh. My. Gosh!” Mia—sweet, pigtailed, overalled, flip-flops-wearing, five-year-old Mia—hugs a lamp to her chest and dances her way into Auntie Aubree’s new house, groaning, and yet, beaming. “It’s so hot!” She sets the lamp on top of Cato’s pile, right on the edge, and turns to Archer. “So, so hot, Uncle Arch! This is too much.”
Fast as a viper, Cato catches the wobbling lamp and nudges it back to safety. “I think we should blow this popsicle stand and go findactualpopsicles.” He sweeps the girl into his arms and buries his lips against her neck. Blowing noisily, he turns her unhappiness to peeling laughter, and her lazy, sweaty form into bucking legs and flailing arms. She kicks out and honk-snorts, her feet missing Tim’s jaw by mere inches. “Ice cream and a water park,” Cato continues. “They can’t make you work anyway, McStinkerson. There are labor laws in place that protect youngins from this torture.”
“You movedabox,” Aubree drawls. “One single box.”
“I movedfourboxes.” He plops a bright red Mia on his hip and shuffles left to give Fletch space to pass with a television: the remote, glued to the screen. “Four boxes are more than Felix moved. Or Micah.”
“Felix is in New York,” I counter. “Dealing with his three-minute-old baby.”
“Freeminutes?” Mia swings around, loose brown curls slapping the side of her face. “It’s been more than free minutes since baby Darling got here! You’re being silly, Auntie Minka.”
“It’s been fiveweeks,” Aubree adds. “Auntie Minka was definitely being silly. And sweet baby Zora is already getting so much bigger.”
“Zora.” Mia rolls the name over her tongue. “Baby Zora. Zora kinda rhymes with Mia, huh?”
“Yup!” Cato breaks away from our group and starts toward the kitchen. Though, this isn’t some small city-living apartment. This is a mansion on the hills. A house made for families of fifteen, with three floors—might be four?—six bedrooms, I don’t even know how many bathrooms, and a room off the kitchen that used to be for the maid andpaid help. “Zora and Mia do sound kind of the same, because Uncle Felix named his baby girl afteryou.”
Mia gasps. “Really?”
“He sure did. He said he loves yousoooomuch, and he thinks you’re the coolest kid on this side of the country. And he knows you’ve been working so hard at school and stuff, and now you’re reading grade two books and everything. So he thought,hmm, how can I reward that cool kid? I know! I’ll name my baby after her.”
“Oh my gosh,” she trembles, her voice audibly bouncing with emotion. “That’s so cool, huh?”
“He’s gonna be the reason she accepts nothing but total adoration when she’s older.” Tired, Fletch sets the TV down and swipes the sweat from his brow. “Not that I have a problem with that. But humans are inherently flawed, so even if she finds someone nice in…” He sets his hands on his hips and scowls, “twenty-five years, even if the dude is pretty awesome, she’s gonna demand nothing short of perfection. And then she’ll call in a fuckin’ mafia favor to take the trash out when he doesn’t live up to the hype.”
“Better she aim high than low.” Aubree walks to the far wall and snags a bottle of water, then, straightening out, she unscrews the lid and chugs half before wandering to Tim and pressing the bottle to his palm.
Like the good husband he is, he guzzles what’s left.
“She’s got a dad who would burn the world for her. One who would kill for her.” Her lips curl into a taunting smirk. No need to say he has…literally. “Add in the confidence Cato shoves down her throat until she’s bursting at the seams, and she’s gonna do amazing things when she’solder. It’s about damn time women are celebrated for being strong, instead of held down for fear they might betoohappy.” She leans against Tim’s side and rests her ear over his heart. “I’m here to watch the show.”
“Personally, I’m here to get this shit moved so we can go home.” Archer drags his shirt up, exposing his ridged stomach, the ink he placed on his skin long before we met, and with it, the scars he collected over a long, hard lifetime spent with a father who, for reasons no rational person will ever understand, hated his sons. Wiping his face, he shoots a sneaky wink my way. “I need a shower and a cold beer. I intend to have both, while naked, with my wife.”
“We’re almost done.” Aubree pulls away from Tim, but she takes his hand and starts back the way they came. “Only half a truck left, then we can rest.”
“Half a truck.” Archer drops his shirt and crosses the room, blinding me with a beautiful smile and eyes that warm my face more than the blistering July sun. “Still half a truck, Minnnka.” He grabs my hips and tugs me forward. “Half a truck is still a lot.”
“Remind me again why we didn’t hire movers to transfer Aubree’s shit to her fancy new mansion?”
“It’s not a mansion!” Aubree shouts from the front door. “It’s just a house. A regular, housy-house that regular people live in.”
