by Emilia Finn
“Don’t.” Olivia’s word is a mere whisper as she shakes her head. “Don’t do it, Deputy.”
I look to Oz for a moment more; his firing eyes, his ticking jaw, his growing muscles as adrenaline floods his system. He’s a dad, and a murderer is standing right beside his daughter. Then I look back to Olivia and nod. That’s all she gets, that’s all either of us get, because then I walk away and leave them standing in the hall.
I have shit to do, and having that guy watching me too closely won’t be conducive to the results I’m hoping for. I still plan to look at Olivia Conner like she’s ice cold water on a steaming hot summer day. But I’ll be doing it while no one else is looking.
What I do in my leisure time doesn’t have to overlap in any way with what I do on business time. Zero connection, zero chance of spillover. Just like I keep that shit away from my sister, I’ll make damn sure it stays clear of the beautiful Olivia too.
Olivia
That Tower High in the Sky
I sit at my mom’s kitchen counter with a glass of orange juice clasped between my hands, and a nasty case of anxiety spinning in my stomach. Mom and Oz stand on the opposite side of the counter and cook together. It’s so natural for them, so practiced and smooth, the way mom chops peppers, and Oz browns onions. My mom’s glass of wine sits not so far from my juice, and Oz’s beer moves as he moves. He sips, and sets it down. Then he comes to the counter, so he takes another sip, and sets it by the chopping board.
“How are things going at work, Daddy?” I try not to make it sound like I care too much. Mild interest, mild chit-chat, and perhaps a change of subject from the elephant in the room. “Still giving you trouble?”
“Yeah.” My stepfather’s jaw grinds as he thinks so much more than he says. “My whole fucking career is a Groundhog Day repeat of bullshit right now.”
“And the drug stuff?”
He sighs. “X set up a taskforce. This shit is getting out of hand.”
“But you said it’s just a kid, right? A teen.”
“Yeah, but it’s growing,” Oz huffs and turns back to the onions. “Every time we peel a layer back, we discover a whole bunch more shit that needs to be untangled. X had me and Tate working it when we weren’t busy with anything else, but that’s not getting the job done. Now he’s got me creating a team and dedicating our time to fixing this shit.” He stops what he’s doing and meets my eyes. “Drugs in small towns are like a cancer, Beauty. That shit spreads and spreads and spreads. Folks die, and lives are messed up.”
“So you’re gonna dig in and get rid of the cancer?”
He grabs his beer and tips it back for a swallow. “It’s why I joined the force.” Then he sets the bottle down on marble with a clink. “I have to head out tonight and take a look at some stuff.”
“Wait.” Mom stops chopping and looks to her husband with a frown. “You’re heading out tonight?”
“Yeah.” He grabs the spatula and goes back to work at the stove. “I got word today that something was happening tonight, so I’ll take a drive around town and check it out.” He draws a heavy breath, then lets it out on a sigh. “I miss the good old days of arresting Jeremy Doyle for showing his wang to Miss Dixie through her parlor windows.”
“The good old days,” I snicker. “Can’t say I’m sorry for not seeing Doyle’s wang, through a window or otherwise.”
“I saw it a time or two.” Mom picks up a slice of pepper and takes a crunching bite. “You’re better off not knowing what that looks like. It can never be unseen.” She offers me a fresh slice of pepper and grins. “You wanna stay for dinner?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Oz rolls his eyes. “And here I was, assuming you enjoyed hanging out with me,” he drawls. “You want the food, not the company.”
“I come for the company,” I tease, “I stay for the food.”
“Where’s that other toolbag tonight?”
Thankfully, Oz goes back to his onions, which means he can’t know the way my eyes shoot wide, or the way my pulse skips when a certain face plays through my mind. I know he’s asking about Brenten, so why the hell does a man with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a dimple in his chin come to my mind?
“Brenten The Pussy Prosecutor,” Oz continues. “Is he busy watching Judge Judy? That’s how he learns his job, right?”
“Stop saying mean things about him.” I toss half of my pepper at Oz’s back, and grin when it smacks his shirt and drops to the floor. “He’s nice.”
“He’s extremely feminine. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice that about him. We both know he files his nails.”
“So he’s not a meathead from the gym who likes to flex his arms and kiss his own biceps.”
“No, but let’s talk about that guy too.” Oz turns back and points a finger at my face. “William Quinn is bad news, Beauty. Stay the hell away.”
“Um… what?” I sit back and scowl. “First of all, how the hell did we transition to him? And second, why the eff am I being put on notice about a guy I’m not dating?”
“Because he watches you, Beauty. He watches you hard. He’s looking to piss a lot of people off, and who better to target than you?”
“So I’m a brainless bimbo who would fall into trouble simply because a guy with muscles looks at me?” I look to Mom for backup. “Am I that stupid?”
“No, honey. You’re not.” She turns to her husband and matches my scowl. “She’s smart, Oscar. And you’re gonna piss a bunch of people off if you keep going with this discussion.”
“I’m not saying you have no brains, Beauty.” He puts his spatula down and presses his hands to the marble countertop. “I’m saying guys like Quinn have loads of life experience, and they know how to get the things they desire. You won’t even know you’ve stepped over the line until long after the stepping has ended. Guys like that make the dance smooth, unnoticeable.”
“You sound awfully educated on such behavior.” I purse my lips and spin my juice. “Wanna keep going?”
He rolls his eyes and groans. “We don’t have to butt heads, Liv. There’s no need for a fucking female rebellion over this.” He looks to my mom to drive his point home. “I’m just saying, he likes what he sees when he looks at you. And he’s not gonna be the one to stand back and acknowledge that hitting on Livi Conner may not be a good idea. That means you’re gonna have to be the brains in that situation. I’m only trying to take care of you.”
“Much like how Ben takes care of me?” I bring my juice up as my little brother tears through the kitchen and slams a plastic truck against the wall. “You lecture me on this guy – a guy who’s been in town for mere days and I’ve yet to spend a single second alone with – yet you also call my normal, safe, non-threatening boyfriend boring and semi-gay. Who would you have me date, Daddy? Danger, or boring? Meathead, or gay?”
“How about you acknowledge both are wrong, and you try again?”
“How about you admit that you were once a womanizer, and now you’re afraid karma’s coming around to kick your ass through me?”
He jumps back like I’ve punched him in the face. Like I called Ma a whore. Like I lifted my top and told all the boys to come get my milkshake. “Livi!”
“And why do you call me Livi, huh? Am I still twelve?”
“For fuck’s sake. I’m done.” He snatches up his spatula and turns away. “Do something about your daughter, Angel.”
“My daughter?” Mom’s lips twitch. “Mine? After all these years when you say how she’s yours and fuck biology and all that mess, now you say she’s mine?”
“She’s yours for as long as she’s wearing that Conner attitude.” He looks over his shoulder and glares. “Come find me when you’re normal again.”
I can’t even find it in my heart to be mad. He really does love me, and he truly is only trying to keep me safe. The men in my life simply lack the art of subtlety. It’s not their fault they’re simpletons when it comes to this.
Rising from m
y stool, and circling the counter, I step in and press my cheek to his back. From tense, to relaxed in an instant, he sets his things down, and spins so fast that I remain in place and find my cheek pressed to his broad chest.
“I love you, Beauty. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I love you too, Daddy. Even if we all know you were once a slut with too few manners and a solid belief in what goes around comes around. You’re shaking in your boots because you think your goes around is coming around to smack me on the ass.”
“Any man smacks you on the ass, you send them my way. I’ll deal with him.”
I close my eyes and inhale the scent of his cologne. “Do you truly hate Brenten?”
“Well… hate is a strong word,” he hedges on a groan. “I dislike him. A lot,” he adds on. “I think he’s boring, I think he’s a shitty lawyer, I think maybe his nose is brown from how often he sticks it in his boss’ ass.”
“Eww.”
He chuckles. “I think he’s just… I don’t know. I already dislike him because of work. But on top of that, he seems so out of character for you.”
“Why do you say that?” I pull back and look into a pair of whiskey-colored eyes. “Out of character how?”
He turns for a single second and flicks the heat off on the stove, then he comes back to me and rolls his lip between two fingers. “I just… I don’t know, Beauty. You’re so imaginative and smart. You read more than anyone I know, and you read the kissy books, so we both know you know about Pirate Pete and Viking Viktor. You’re surrounded by really amazing couples who truly love each other. You’ve met Ma and Papa, and we’ve all been front row to the romance between your brother and Evie. The way I love your mom is just…” He tries so hard to express his passion without making it weird. “I just feel like you know better. Which, I guess, means I expected you to look for something a little… more. I feel like you’re settling, and I certainly don’t think that weirdo deserves you.”
I do know better. I do expect better. Because I know what true love looks like. “If the right man came along and knocked on our door to take me to dinner, would you let him inside?”
“Fuck no.” He turns back to the stove and leaves me stumbling to find my balance. “He might be the right one, but I’m still gonna make him work for it. A guy that wants you forever, Beauty…” He peeks over his shoulder. “That guy is gonna have to earn it. And I’m telling you now, Brenten Pierce is no Viking Viktor.”
“What is your obsession with Vikings?” I shake my head and turn back to my seat. “I swear, you’re so weird.”
“Stop sassing me, Olivia. You’re never too old for me to send to your room.”
I roll my eyes and drop back down again. “Mom sent me to my room a billion times when I was a teen. Every single time, who was the one knocking on my door to break me out?”
Mom’s brows wing up when Oz tenses. “Really, Oscar? You make a habit of undermining my parenting behind my back?”
“Angel…” He flashes what he thinks is his most enchanting smile. “It wasn’t undermining your parenting. But rather, saving the damsel from her tower.”
Mom growls and whips him with a hand towel, which sends my six-and-a-half-foot tall stepfather squealing like a little girl.
“Ouch!” Oz jumps away and cackles. “Angel! Don’t hit me.”
“Don’t save her from the tower.” She whips again. “She’s not a damsel!”
I pick up my juice once again, and snicker when Oz snags her wrist and pulls her in for a kiss. “You’re just mad you became the evil stepmother who tried to lock our beautiful princess away.”
“If she’s a brat, it’s your own damn fault, Oscar.”
“I can hear you guys.” I glance down into my juice and shake my head. “Not a teen anymore, not a brat.”
Word travels fast when your family is as involved with each other as mine is. So when Evie asked Ben if he’d like to swim at the lake on the weekend, and he said yes, the phone tree began, and what was a two-person – plus a baby – day off, turned into an event that included about seventeen families, three hundred children, and a metric ton of awkwardness when I told Daddy I would invite Brenten to our day of swimming and burgers.
It’s important that my boyfriend becomes involved in our family events. It’s important to me that he try to get to know the people who love and influence me, that he try to make bonds, and find something in common with someone – anyone – to chat about.
At the moment, the only connection Brenten has to anyone besides me is the Devil Twins, and that’s because he’s personally rubber-stamped a whole bunch of their legal documents in the past year.
Oops.
“Brenten?” I leave my bathroom in a black and white, two-piece bikini with a little skirt tied around my hips, my hair tickling the bare skin on my back, and one earring dangling from my ear while I work on the other. I walk the wooden floorboards of my apartment hallway with no shoes on, and poke my head into the living room. “I’m leaving in five minutes. Are you ready?”
Brenten sits at my kitchen counter with a coffee in one hand and the local newspaper spread open in front of him.
I live in a mid-level apartment building not so far from the police station – thanks, Daddy. There are no truly affluent areas in this small town. There are just the regular folks, and then the extremely lawbreaking folks who have no money. My apartment being situated near the police station means I’m as far from the law breakers as humanly possible, which means this building, while not rich and fancy, is nice. The kitchen floor boasts large, glossy white tiles, and the living room, deep chocolate-toned floorboards. The kitchen counter; well, it’s not marble, but it looks like marble, and that’s basically the same thing. Teardrop lights hang from the ceiling, and the walls are double thick, so on the odd occasion, I might hear a neighbor watch a particularly loud action scene of a movie, but for the most part, silence.
Brenten sits on a white leather and silver stool, with one foot on the floor, and the other on the footrest about a third of the way along the silver support column. His hair is gelled back like he’s heading to the office, despite the fact it’s Saturday, and he promised he was taking the weekend off.
“You’re not dressed?” I fix the second earring into my ear and walk the length of my dining area with a frown. “Brenten? I said I’m leaving in five, and you’re not even dressed.”
Calm, controlled, quiet; he sets his coffee aside and glances down his pant-covered legs. “I’m dressed. Isn’t that what pants and a shirt mean in your world?” He grins like he thinks he’s hilarious, and when I’m close enough, reaches out to hook an arm around my hips.
But I’m faster. I dodge, and spin to the fridge. “You’re supposed to be dressed for the lake. Not the office.”
He groans and turns back to his coffee. “I don’t have a lake look, babe. I just… this is how I dress.”
“Well, if you plan to swim in black leather shoes and dress pants, then fine. I guess you’re ready to go.”
“Why don’t you stay home with me today?” He closes the newspaper and pushes it and his coffee aside. Standing as I come back to the counter with a can of Pepsi, he tries his damnedest to catch my eyes. “Movies, snacks.” He grabs my chin and pulls my eyes up to meet his. “Air conditioning. It is way too hot to be sitting outside in this heat, Liv, and I’m telling you now, if you go to the lake today, your skin is going to regret it tonight when it hurts from sunburn.”
I take a single step back so his hand on my jaw has no choice but to fall away. “I have sunblock, a hat, shade, and a family who wants to spend time with me today.”
Turning away from him and the counter, I move across the living room with my can of Pepsi in hand, and stop by the far wall to slide my right foot into a flip-flop. “I’m leaving in two minutes, Brenten. Because I want to spend the day with my family. I know in your world, these types of get-togethers are a chore involving snifters of whiskey and too-tight neckties, but I actu
ally enjoy my family, so I’m going whether you are or not. I would love for you to join us, because I think it’s important for my family to get to know my boyfriend, but if you don’t want to go, or if you plan to go but sulk the whole time, thus making me regret bringing you, then fine. I don’t care. I’ll go without you.”
“That easy, huh?” He saunters his way across the room. “You’d leave me behind and go anyway?”
“Yes. Because you and I have been dating for a couple of months, but my family has been my family my whole life. You’ve been invited, and this has been planned for a week, which means you’re outvoted. Also, if you decide you don’t want to come with me, I still need you to hurry and get your stuff. I need to lock up.”
“I can’t even stay here and chill out while you’re gone?” He stops just three feet away and studies my eyes. “You would put me in the street?”
I finish my flip-flop, and work on the second. “You have a home, Brenten. Stop being so dramatic. And yes, because I agreed to take on a few administrative duties for the gym this week, which means I have a bunch of sensitive information that they trusted me to bring home. That means I can’t leave someone inside my apartment for hours, unsupervised, while I’m not here.” I smile and stand tall when I finish with my shoes. “It’s not personal. I’d have to ask my best friend to leave, too.”
“I’m not just someone you know, Liv. I’m your boyfriend. I’m also a highly respected man who understands what sensitive data is and how important it is that it remain locked up.”
“So you understand why I’m asking you to leave. Great.” I grab my purse and head to the front door. “I appreciate your understanding on this. But I’m a little sad you’ve decided not to join us at the lake. It’s going to be fun.”
“Ugh. Fine. Just wait a second.” Instead of coming to the door, he swings into the hall and into my bedroom on the end. A minute later, he comes out wearing the boardshorts I bought for him this week, since I knew in my heart that he isn’t the kind of guy who would already own a pair. He wears the same shirt he already had on, but carries his pants, belt, and leather shoes in his hand. “I’m ready.”