Page 46 of Making It While Faking It
My body jerks upright. Shit, another outlandish question. I consider whether I should answer or not. Could she use whatever I tell her against me? Could Max use it against me? My mind quickly travels down all avenues that can lead to harm. She’s not close to Max, though. I’ve been informed that she doesn’t like him much at all. But they’re family.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” she says.
At this time of night, her skin is dewier than usual. I allow my gaze to drop to her firm nipples poking her nightshirt. I wonder how they’ll feel against my tongue. How will she respond when I suck them?
I shrug indifferently. “My father lives on a tropical island. He owns a restaurant that makes terrible food but great drinks, and he likes it there.”
She says, “Hmm,” as she nods thoughtfully. What the hell is she thinking? I want to know now.
“How long have he and Marigold been divorced?”
“They’re not divorced.” Shit. I let that slip.
Her eyebrows quirk up. “No?”
I press my lips. I’m not saying it twice.
“But you’ve been the man of the house for many years, no?”
I jerk my head back. “Man of the house?”
“Well, yeah. You’re obviously in charge of Orion and your mom, and I believe Hercules too. Paisley told me…” Then she catches herself.
So they do talk and share.
It doesn’t look as if she’s going to back down from whatever she was going to say. It looks as if she’s reframing her words. That’s why I wait patiently. I want to hear whatever she’s going to say.
“Hercules was supposed to marry Rain Mueller, his cousin, your cousin?” Tilting her head, she waits for a response.
“What of it?” Everybody knows that, which is why I have a sneaky feeling she’s dropping crumbs, leading me to the bear trap.
“But you’re the oldest. Why him and not you?”
What the fuck.
“Why does it have to be me? Marrying off the eldest son or daughter is an outdated trope, don’t you think?” I pull one side of my mouth up into a smirk as I watch her eyes dance with amusement. I’ll like bringing that expression on her face to bed with me tonight when I rub one out. Because shit, I’m hard again.
“Yes,” she agrees. “It is an old trope. Did you have a girlfriend?”
And there it is—the big reveal. Did Hercules know about me and Penelope, and if he did, why in the hell is he sharing it with Paisley?
“Is that what Hercules told Paisley?” I ask.
Her head tilts as she watches me while smiling. Then she sits up straight and cuts a bite-sized portion of her omelet with her fork. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I can’t picture you in love with anyone. And no, that’s not what Paisley told me. I was just fishing.”
I don’t believe her, but while silence prevails, I let the subject at hand drop. I’ll get in touch with Herc later to ask him what the fuck she’s talking about.
But I’m still troubled by something else she said.
“You can’t picture me in love?”
She casually shakes her head as she finishes swallowing. “Why do you look at me the way you do?”
I like her style of rarely ever answering a direct question. I would guide her back on the path to answering what I asked, but I’m intrigued by this new path we’re traveling.
“How do I look at you?”
She points to my face. “Like that?”
