by Karr, Kim
“Who are you?” she said, poking him in the gut with her walking stick.
Startled, I jumped when I heard the stern voice, and then began to worry we were in a house we didn’t actually have permission to be in, and that we were going to jail.
“I’m Jace’s friend, I swear.” Ethan was pleading with his palms raised in surrender. “Tell her, Jace,” he called.
What was going on?
Jace cranked the water off and was stepping out of the shower just as the woman pinned Ethan into a corner.
Instantly, my entire body turned cold.
“Grandmother!” Jace yelled, grabbing a white fluffy towel and tossing it to me, before snagging another for himself.
As soon as I wrapped the towel around my body, I jerked my head toward Jace in question. He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the woman with contempt in his eyes.
“What is going on here?” The woman’s voice was icy.
“Leave him alone,” Jace snapped. “I invited him here.”
Her eyes narrowed as she slowly scanned the rest of the bathroom, passing by me with the same contempt I saw in Jace’s gaze when he looked at her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
After wrapping a towel around his waist, he snatched one more and tossed it to Ethan, who was shaking. “I’m on vacation. What are you doing here?”
The woman was not at all pleased, but she left Ethan alone and used her cane to slowly cross the bathroom. “You should have asked me before coming.”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Jace leaned against the sink. “Why would I do that?”
Ethan scurried out of the room, but I was frozen where I stood. Was this some kind of sick joke?
She stopped about a foot away from Jace. “Because this house isn’t yours and isn’t one of your toys to play with, Jace.”
His temper exploded in a way I had only seen pieces of. “This was my father’s house. Not yours. It is mine to do with whatever the fuck I want!”
Disbelief was all I felt.
Her face was a mask of hostility. “You will not use that tone with me, young man. Get dressed and then come talk to me when you are presentable. I’ll be waiting for you in the study downstairs.”
Jace only glared at her.
Slowly, she turned and walked out of the bathroom without the aid of her cane. She did not close the door behind her.
All I could do was stare at Jace as I felt an anger boil up inside me. “Who is she?” I asked through gritted teeth, even though I already knew she was his grandmother.
When he didn’t respond, there was nothing I could do to prevent my entire body from shaking.
Finally, I was able to move my feet and found myself standing in front of him before I knew what I was doing. I jabbed a finger into his bare chest. “Who are you?” I took a different approach.
He reached for me, curling a hand around the nape of my neck to draw me closer. “Hannah,” he said, his voice guttural.
Without hesitation, I reached back and peeled his fingers away. “Who are you?” I snarled.
He ran his hands through his wet hair. “Not now, okay?”
Ignoring him, I could feel the hostility rolling off me, and I supposed he could too. “How can you afford this house when you don’t have any money?”
Instead of answering me, he repeated himself. “Later, Hannah.”
I knew what he was doing. Shutting me out. But this time I just didn’t care. “Tell me!”
He paced the small space in front of the vanity before he stopped and looked at me. For a while we just stood there facing each other, and still, Jace saying nothing. Not answering a single question. Just staring at me as if shocked by my reaction.
Water dripped down my face from my wet hair. “What? Are you suddenly rich?”
Jace turned around and put his hands on the back of his neck.
“It’s not like you could have forgotten to tell me,” I bit out.
He turned back around. Again, he just stared at me as if I wasn’t the same person he’d spent almost every day with for the past three months. And in a way, I wasn’t. This hurt, hurt deeper than he could ever know. A pain so familiar I just wanted to push it away. Push him away.
When I couldn’t take the balled up outrage I was holding in anymore, I blurted out my feelings. “It’s not as if I haven’t figured out that you have been playing some kind of sick game with me since the day we met. Pretending to be poor like me. Why? Did you get off on it? Did it make you feel like a big shot?”
Flinching, he took a deep breath. “Is that really what you think?”
My pulse was roaring in my ears as I made certain to stare right into those intense, brooding gray eyes. “Tell me otherwise. Tell me you don’t own this house. That you aren’t rich. That you haven’t neglected to tell me what you should have.”
Normally, Jace was a hotheaded dick in situations where he was pushed against the wall, and I braced myself for his shitty temper. Instead, what I got was a lot of breathing, Jace lulling his back on his spine and glancing at the ceiling in an attempt to try to calm himself down as I had taught him.
“Tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me you haven’t been a lie.”
“Maybe sometimes the truth hurts too much,” he murmured.
The features of my face twisted into a glower. “Look at me and tell me why?” I shouted. “Tell me why,” I said again, but this time in a whisper.
Lowering his chin, there was hurt in his eyes, disappointment, and perhaps a bit of regret, but no anger. “I think it would be best if you go. I’m going to ask Ethan to drive you to the airport.”
Unable to stop myself, I poked him in the chest again. “And do what there, let you buy me a ticket because you’re such a big shot? Well, fuck you! I don’t need your money. I don’t need anything from you.”
Jace wrenched his gaze from mine and looked away. “I’m not a big shot.”
Shaking my head, I turned on my heels and walked right out of the room, slamming the door behind me.
As I grabbed my things, I thought he’d fling the door open and tell me I had it all wrong.
He didn’t.
When I went to the room Ethan was in and dressed, I thought he’d storm in and tell me I had it all wrong.
He didn’t.
Getting in the car with Ethan to drive back to Michigan because he thought it was best we both go, I thought he’d run down the snow-covered driveway and tell me I had it all wrong.
He didn’t.
Ethan was talking. Telling me not to be upset. That Jace hadn’t pretended to be anyone he wasn’t. That he wasn’t a big shot. That his grandmother had cut him off, and he really was just like us.
Just like us?
That was far from the truth.
He was just like them—the people I grew up with who always treated me like the hired help and claimed I was family at the same time.
Unable to listen any longer, I tuned Ethan out.
The blinker was signaling left by the time I forced myself to turn around. Snow flurries caused the house to fade from my sight before the distance did.
And I vowed right then the big shot would do the very same thing . . .
Vanish from my life.
Forever.
And I would make sure of it.
Present Day
Jace Bennett
CALLING AMANDA TO talk some more wasn’t the smartest thing I’d ever done.
It was just that diving headfirst in the opposite direction seemed like the best way to handle the situation I was in.
Normally, I didn’t go out on Sunday nights, but I needed to take the edge off before work on Monday, so I asked Mrs. Sherman to watch Scarlett.
With my keys in my hand, I was just about ready to go. “Scarlett,” I called.
She came running into the family room wearing her ballet clothes with the new football shirt we’d bought her when we took Jonah back to the sporting goods store for a helmet on Friday nigh
t.
“Here I am!” Scarlett circled the coffee table with the pink glittery ball tucked under her arm. I had to admit, it defied the ruggedness of the sport. “Look, Daddy!”
“Watch where you’re going, princess,” I called, and Mrs. Sherman jumped out of the way as Scarlett hurtled past her, turned left into the dining room, and ran into the kitchen.
“Touchdown,” I heard her call at the same time there was a crash.
“Why can’t she play with dolls like most girls her age,” I muttered.
Striding that way, Mrs. Sherman replied, “Then she wouldn’t be our Scarlett.”
“You have a point.”
Mrs. Sherman grinned. “Besides, she’s a natural athlete.”
“She’s a natural something, that’s for sure,” I smirked. Her responding laughter told me she agreed.
Scarlett came running back into the family room and looked up at me with flushed cheeks. She no longer had the ball and I wondered what she used as the goal line and where it had ended up. “I did it! I won the game.”
“That’s great,” Mrs. Sherman told her, as she disappeared into the kitchen.
I eyed her, waiting.
“It was only a can of peaches I’d left out for cobbler,” she called, giving the all clear.
I shook my head at my daughter. “You have to be more careful.”
She pursed her lips. “I was careful, Daddy, I promise. I didn’t break anything.”
“Good point,” I grinned. “Tomorrow night I’m going to give you a run for your money.”
Her hair was in her eyes and she pushed it away. “Why can’t you do it now?”
I held out my arms. “Because I told you, I’m going out to dinner, but I’ll be back early.”
Scarlett ran to me, and after she hugged and kissed me, she whispered in my ear, “Are you taking Hannah out for tacos?”
Furrowing my brows, I pulled back. “Why would you think that?”
Again, she pushed her hair from her eyes. “Jonah says his mommy loves tacos, and Max told me if you want to express a woman, you do what they like.”
Ethan.
That had Ethan written all over it.
I gave her a smile. “It’s impress, not express.”
“Impress. That’s what I said, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Scarlett, I’m not taking Hannah out. I’m going over to a business colleague’s to talk about work.”
It wasn’t a lie.
She frowned at me. “Then when are you going to take Hannah out for tacos?”
I scratched my head. Looked at her. Tried to figure out how to tell her I wouldn’t be. But those green eyes got me, so I picked her up and set her on the back of the couch. “How about we see if Hannah and Jonah want to go with the two of us next Saturday?”
Friends.
That was a good way to head down that path.
Scarlett’s little feet banged against the back of the sofa as she clapped her hands together. “All of us are going on a date! It’s going to be so fun. I can’t wait to tell Jonah in the morning!”
It was my turn to frown. “Date? It won’t be a date, princess.”
“Sure, it will. You and me will pick them up. And we’re all going to go out to eat together. Oh, and you have to pay. Then when we’re done we’ll kiss each other goodnight. That’s a date.”
I shook my head at her. “Where do you get this stuff?”
“TV,” Scarlett said blithely.
“You should read more,” I muttered, and swung her off the couch. “How about you let me tell Hannah before you say anything to Jonah, you know in case they are busy.”
She twisted her lips. “I guess I can do that.”
“Good. Now I have to go.”
“Don’t work too hard, Daddy!” she yelled as she ran into the kitchen to where Mrs. Sherman was making them both dinner.
Always going a hundred miles an hour. “Later, gator,” I yelled, and strode out the door trying to figure out how the hell I was going to tell Hannah about our date that wasn’t really a date.
The entire time I drove to Amanda’s, Hannah was all I could think about.
As I took the elevator up to Amanda’s penthouse apartment, Hannah was all I could think about.
And when Amanda opened the door, I knew it wasn’t her face I wanted to be looking at.
I was so screwed.
“Hi,” I said, handing her the bottle of wine I’d purchased on the way, and then shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Come in,” Amanda smiled, taking the bottle. “I have to say, I was surprised when you called.”
This wasn’t a date, and I hoped Amanda didn’t look at it that way. Then again, with what she was wearing, it was clear what was on her mind.
Dressed in a white slinky silk top and matching bottoms with some kind of robe or maybe it was a kimono over it, and I got the distinct impression she wanted me to peel the items off her layer by layer.
“Can I get you a drink?” she offered, leading the way to the sunken living room with a view of the river.
“Yeah, sure” I said, “Scotch, if you have it.”
Her clothing matched the apartment. Everything was white from the furniture to the walls to the carpet. “On the rocks?” she asked from the bar, which was all white leather.
“Please.” I swung my head in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows and strode toward them. “Great view.”
Ice clinked into glasses. “For what this place cost me, I should have a view of the Eiffel Tower.”
My palms felt sweaty as I stared out into the dark. Summer was fading quickly and it was getting darker earlier and earlier. I hated this time of year for many reasons, but one was the longer nights.
“You look scrumptious,” she purred, handing me a glass.
If my black slacks and white button down were scrumptious, what the hell were my bright blue Calvins going to be? Edible? “I’m not sure what to say to that,” I grinned, keeping it sly.
I had this.
She took a sip of her drink, a scotch as well. “Well, you could give me a compliment, or we could skip all the small talk and get right to what you came here for.”
The amber liquid went down smooth, and once I swallowed, I cocked a brow in her direction. “You don’t pussyfoot around, do you?”
The corners of her mouth turned up. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Why don’t we sit down and start that small talk. I ordered sushi. I hope you don’t mind. I know I said I’d make dinner, but I really don’t cook.”
I threw my head back in laugher. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
Rising up on her toes, she got really close to my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. I like this side of you.”
It was my opportunity, and I could have kissed her, yet something inside me begged off, knowing coming here to fuck her was all kinds of wrong. It wasn’t who I was anymore. I didn’t have to get lost in women to forget my shitty life, because my life was anything but shitty.
There was, however, something missing, I just refused to see it that way. Then again I always was a stubborn prick.
“Come on,” she laughed, taking me by the arm. “Let’s get to know each other.”
That I could do.
And who knew . . . maybe I might actually like her.
We spent the following hour doing just what she had suggested . . . making small talk. It was obvious after those sixty minutes that there was zero chemistry between us. Those few sparks that had presented themselves at that lunch we shared had long ago fizzled. And I think it was on both our parts.
It didn’t help that the only thing I talked about was my daughter. I even went as far as to show Amanda pictures of Scarlett on my phone. Seriously, even I started to wonder just how lame I really was.
The stud magnet that I once had been turned into Mr. Mom, and Amanda was not turned on by that side o
f me. Then again, aside from agreeing to go to the Outreach Fundraiser, I didn’t see children being a part of her life, at all.
Hell, instead of making my way into Amanda’s pants, it was clear with every second that passed I was pushing her away, and yet I couldn’t stop. I went on and on. And it became painfully obvious stepmom wasn’t a title she was looking to capture. Not that I was looking either. I wasn’t. Dominatrix, now that seemed to suit her much better.
After telling her all about Scarlett’s love of the White Sox, the Bulls, and the Bears, I stopped all the talking. Even I was getting tired of hearing my own voice.
Amanda was lounging with her head resting on the back of the sofa and her feet propped up on the coffee table. She rolled to her side and batted her eyelashes in my direction. “Can I ask you something?”
I slid down on the couch and turned my head in her direction. It was a flirty move, and my last attempt at trying to figure out if Amanda was what I needed to help get Hannah out of my head. “Yeah, sure. After listening to me, I think you earned it.”
Reaching over, she gave my hair a slight tug. “You’re really something. So good looking, and I know you already know that. I also know you’re the kind of man who takes what he wants. So why is it when pussy keeps being handed to you on a silver platter, do you keep turning it down?”
We were at eye level, and our mouths were just a few breaths apart. I could prove to her right now that I had no intention of turning her pussy down, except I did have every intention of doing just that. To ease the burn of my rejection, I brushed my fingers down her chiseled cheekbone. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
She flipped onto her back and threw an arm over her eyes. “You don’t seriously think that line is going to work on me, do you?’
I sat up straight, keeping my eyes on her. “It’s the truth.”
Catching my gaze, she sobered. “Whoever has your attention is one lucky girl. Tell her I said so, will you?”
“There’s no one,” I said in a terse voice.