Cook Brothers: The Whole Flipping Family

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Cook Brothers: The Whole Flipping Family Page 31

by BJ Harvey


  “He’s lucky in other ways.”

  “He obviously thinks he’ll be getting lucky in Vegas.”

  “He knows he’ll be getting some way before then.”

  She jerks her head back and quirks a brow. “Does he now?” Her lips twitch.

  I slide my hands down to her ass and give a gentle squeeze. “Yep. Because he’s going to win the chase and get the girl by then.”

  Her eyes shine with amusement. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Does she get a say in this?” Ronnie asks.

  Of course, that’s when Bry decides to make his presence known. “This is hot and all. But I believe you both already know there’s a guest room upstairs. With a bed,” he says with a knowing grin.

  “Oh my God,” Mom gasps as the penny drops. I groan, burying my face in Ronnie’s shoulder as she starts giggling like a loon along with everyone else within hearing distance.

  At least she’s not nervous anymore.

  14

  Ronnie

  Friday night following Axel’s birthday, I’m at my condo, half-dressed with full hair and makeup, trying to prepare myself for dinner with my parents. A quick glance at the time on my phone tells me I’ve got fifteen minutes before Jax is due to pick me up.

  Gilly—Are you prepared to meet your makers?

  Ronnie—Are you ready to cover me if I need to save Jax from them and run away?

  Gilly—Have I ever NOT had your back?

  Ronnie—Never.

  Gilly—Exactly. Just get a few wines down you so you relax a bit and think positive thoughts about how they’ll see your hot professor and fall at his feet.

  Ronnie—I don’t think I’ve ever seen our father impressed with any man either one of us have brought home.

  Gilly—To be fair, YOU have never brought anyone home with the purpose of introducing them to our parents.

  Ronnie—By the way, I got an A- on my first photography assignment.

  Gilly—Jeez, what did you do? Sleep with the teacher?

  Ronnie—Ha ha, very funny. He didn’t mark it. The dean did.

  Gilly—Wow. Friends in high places.

  Ronnie—Or a boyfriend who doesn’t want anyone to question his ethics or my achievements.

  Gilly—I really can’t wait to meet the man now. I want to shake his hand for looking out for my baby sister.

  Ronnie—Not such a baby anymore.

  Gilly—You’ll always be that to me. Now, go. Drink. Get loose—but not TOO loose—and I’ll see you in an hour or so.

  Ronnie—Yes, ma’am.

  Ten minutes later and right on time, my doorbell rings. With one last glance in the mirror to make sure my navy sheer blouse, black pencil skirt, and matching navy heels all look perfect, I make my way down the short hallway.

  I open the door and instantly, my mouth waters. I’ve seen Jax in nothing, I’ve seen him in smart-casual when he’s on-campus, and I’ve seen him in variations of wife-beaters or tees and jeans. But I’ve never seen him in a grey open-neck button-down, tailored slacks, and so-shiny-I-can-see-my-face-in-them black dress shoes. His eyes meet mine. They’re so full of hunger, I’m forced to lock my knees to stay standing.

  “Fuck,” he says, taking me in head to toe before he advances on me. His hands go to my hips, the door slamming behind him as he walks me backward until my ass hits my dining table.

  His head begins to descend. Thankfully, I have enough forethought to lift my fingers to press against his mouth and stop him.

  “Wait,” I rush out. His eyes flash. “My lipstick.”

  “You’ll need to reapply it,” he says, his voice rasping.

  My lips curve on one side. “Oh, really?”

  He reaches up and grabs my wrist, dragging it down and around my back. “Yep.” Then he’s roughly pulling me in for a hard, spine-tingling kiss that I feel through every part of my body. His hips rolling against mine tell me he really likes my outfit.

  Fifteen minutes after he walked through my front door, my hair and makeup are fixed, and we’re pulling away from the curb outside my building. Forty minutes later, we’re driving down my parents’ street.

  “I think Cade’s parents live near here,” Jax says, looking out his window.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure of it. His dad was the ex-mayor.”

  “Mayor Carsen?” I ask. Then I remember why I know that. “He’s the one who got caught diddling his secretary, right?”

  Jax nods, a huge grin on his face. “Only you could make the word ‘diddling’ sound hot.”

  I roll my eyes but lean his way to whisper “diddling” as seductively as possible, earning a deep chuckle.

  “Did you grow up here then?” he asks as the GPS instructs him to turn right into the large sweeping driveway of my parents’ Lake Forest mansion.

  “No. This is just where we ended up after the firm grew bigger. Otherwise there’s no way I would’ve met April. All the kids around here are born with twenty-four-carat-gold spoons in their mouths.”

  Jax brings his truck to a stop next to Gilly’s BMW by the side of the house.

  I look out my window before turning back to face Jax. “Please don’t judge me for whatever happens in there.”

  He reaches over for my hand and lifts it to his lips. “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, beautiful.”

  My brows lift. “Nothing?”

  “Nope. As I’ve said, they raised you.”

  “Or the nanny did.”

  “Okay, then the nanny deserves a medal of commendation because she did a fucking fantastic job,” he says with a grin. “Besides, if your mom’s a knockout, it means good things for my future.”

  That makes my lips twitch. “Your future? You sound pretty confident there.”

  “I am. That’s because I know you’re hot for your teacher.”

  “He is pretty damn special to me,” I say softly.

  His eyes soften and he reaches over to give my leg a gentle squeeze. “A man is only as good as the woman at his side, and from where I’m sitting, she’s pretty damn special too.”

  The air between us crackles with sexual tension—something that we don’t have time to give in to right now, which is probably why Jax puts his hand up to stop me getting closer.

  “If we start something, there’s no chance you’ll be able to fix what I wreck,” he says with a lascivious smirk.

  I laugh, my smile widening. “Cocky.”

  “It’s not being cocky if I know I’m right.”

  I sigh and shift back in my seat. “Oh alright then.” I cross my arms over my chest for added effect.

  Jax chuckles and gives my leg a gentle squeeze. “Wait there. I’ll come around and get you.”

  When he reaches the passenger side, I’m already halfway out. He holds his hand out to me, and I love the feel of my skin sliding against his as I lace our fingers together.

  “You ready for this?” I ask, suddenly feeling wary.

  “I’ve got you by my side. I could move mountains right now.”

  My gaze drops to Jax’s tanned, muscular arms. “Now I’m having mountain man fantasies.”

  He drops his head and groans. “Ronnie, don’t make me meet your parents with a hard-on. It wouldn’t make a good impression.”

  I meet his gaze and breathe a silent sigh of relief that I have him by my side.

  His eyes flash with heat as he shifts to stand between me and the house. Lifting his hand to cup my jaw, he sweeps his thumb over my cheek. I lean into his touch. “You’re absolutely fucking spectacular, and I’m in awe of your strength, determination, and the balls it took for you to draw your line in the sand and go after the life you truly want.” My eyes sting with tears. “You’re amazing, Veronica Nelson, and that’s all you. No one can ever take that away.”

  My breath hitches and I try to duck my head, but he flexes his fingers to stop me. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He dips his chin and brushes his lips a
gainst mine. “I’ll always look out for you, Barbie. That’s my job.”

  “I thought GI Joe was the protective one. Didn’t Bry volunteer?” I smirk, and his eyes narrow, a look I know probably means he’s contemplating kissing me again—and not a quick, appropriate peck.

  He shakes his head. “One twin is not enough?”

  “Oh, you’re more than enough. Although, it has been a while. Maybe I need a reminder of what you’re bringing to the table.” My smile broadens when he groans.

  “You love to torture me, don’t you?”

  “I like to think of it as motivation.”

  “Glad it’s appreciated,” he muses.

  “I appreciate everything about you, Jax. Now, we better go inside before they send out a search party.”

  “Let them,” he says with a grin. “Maybe I want to appreciate you a little more.”

  I roll my eyes but smile at the same time. He sighs and shakes his head, something I’ve noticed he often does when he’s around me.

  He steps back so he’s standing beside me again. “Lead the way, Barbie.”

  “Sure thing, Ken.”

  We make our way up the opulent—expensive—steps leading to the front door and ring the doorbell.

  Jax looks over the front of the house. It’s more modern than the pink lady but there are definitely features that I’m sure would work well on the Dream House too. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone just as the giant slab of wood in front of us swings open to a smiling, brunette, and ever so slightly older version of me.

  “Ronnie bear,” Gilly says excitedly, stepping forward and pulling me in for a big hug.

  I squeeze her tight. “Long time no see.”

  When we finally pull away, my sister’s eyes turn to Jax. “And you must be the naughty professor,” she says with a wink.

  “Behave,” I warn, half-heartedly. I reach out my hand, which Jax takes willingly. “Gilly, meet Jax.”

  “Hi. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says with a laugh. I sigh and roll my eyes at my not-so-subtle sister. Jax chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in close.

  “Is that right?” he asks, sounding more than a little amused.

  “Yep. By the way, I’d love to see the not-so-sneaky photos you took of her when you thought she wasn’t looking. They tortured her for so long. I thought she was going to spontaneously combust with curiosity and frustration by the end of it.”

  “What can I say?” He looks down at me with a half-smirk. “She’s a captivating subject.”

  We stare at each other, and I almost forget we have an audience until that audience starts making gagging noises.

  “When you guys are finished eye-fucking each other, we can go inside.” Gilly taps her foot expectantly, her hand on her hip in a way reminiscent of our mother.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, stepping forward and holding my hand back for Jax. Something about having him by my side buoys me and makes me feel impervious to any barbs that may be thrown my way tonight.

  “I’ve got you, Barbie,” he murmurs for my ears only.

  I tilt my head his way. “You’re about to find out exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

  As soon as we enter the formal dining room, my mother jumps into her role as the dutiful wife and hostess.

  “Veronica, you’re here,” she says, all smiles and warmth. She comes toward me, puts her hands on my shoulders, and gives me air kisses on either side of my face. “You look well.”

  “You too, Sheila,” I say. I don’t need to turn around to imagine Jax’s expression. It’s probably the same one I’ve seen many times when people find out I call my parents by their first names.

  My parents stopped being Mom and Dad to me at age nine when I was firmly instructed to call them Sheila and Vincent when in the company of others. Me being a surly, sassy, and strong-willed almost-teen decided to take it further and immediately stopped thinking of them as my mother and father. From that point on, there was an unseen separation between myself and the people who brought me into the world.

  If it weren’t for Gilly and my previously held, misguided obligation to my parents, I would have left them behind a long time ago, and wouldn’t have wasted years living a life I never wanted in the first place.

  “How are you?” I ask, my posture shifting instinctively, as if a string is being pulled tight between my shoulder blades, my head held so high and still I could rest a book on it.

  “I’m well. You’re looking good. Have you lost weight?” Sheila says. I feel Jax at my side, his arm snaking around my waist. His body is tense and a glance his way finds a jaw so tight he’s likely in danger of snapping something.

  “Must be my outfit,” I say, fighting the instinct to offer a snarky reply. My mother isn’t nasty; she’s just clueless when it comes to being considerate of other people’s feelings. Though she has always been appreciative of platitudes. “Thank you, Sheila. You’re looking good. Are you still seeing Julian the trainer?”

  Julian the trainer has been working out with her in a number of horizontal ways I don’t care to think of for at least ten years.

  “I am. He’s a miracle worker.” Finally, she acknowledges the man at my side. “And you must be Jaxon. We’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”

  “Subtle, Sheila,” I mutter under my breath.

  Her eyes snap to mine. “Veronica. Manners,” she scolds.

  I quirk a brow, wondering why I’d expected anything more. If they treat Jax badly, there won’t be any decorum left for me to uphold because I will not stand by and let them belittle him for any reason.

  “Sheila,” I say, pointedly. “Jax and I are your guests, and we deserve to be spoken and referred to as such.”

  Her silent gasp and narrow eyes bounce off me as I step sideways to get past her, grabbing Jax’s hand and walking past her toward the obnoxiously large dining table. Unfortunately, this brings us into my father’s domain.

  “Vincent,” I say with a nod, ignoring my mother’s posturing behind our backs.

  “Veronica. Jaxon.” My father sweeps his arm out like a ruling king on his throne. “Please take a seat. Dinner will be served shortly.” He pins Jax with a stare. “Jaxon, what can we get you to drink?”

  Jax pulls out a chair for me right next to Gilly before pushing it back in once I’m seated. He takes his place beside me before answering. “A white wine if Ronnie is having one. Otherwise, water will be fine.”

  I want to pump my fist at Jax calling me Ronnie. Vincent nods and waves his hand to their waiter, Richard, waiting by the kitchen door.

  Richard turns toward us and shoots me a wink before leaving the room.

  Jax elbows me, gaining my attention and quirks a brow.

  “Long story,” I mouth.

  His lips twitch. “Dirty story?” he mouths back.

  A scrunched up face is my answer. Eww, no. Richard is more like a much older brother. But just Jax asking the question has eased the tension that was holding my body hostage.

  Sheila takes her place at the opposite end of the table from her husband.

  From Jax’s perspective, this entire scene must seem comical. His family dinners are survival of the fittest. It’s first in, first served where food is concerned, a far cry from the stale and cold situation we’re in now.

  So grateful to have him by my side, I reach out and rest my hand on his leg. I smile when he covers my fingers with his own and gives them a gentle squeeze.

  We sit there in awkward silence, nobody saying a single word. I find myself holding my breath until Richard re-enters the room with two glasses of white wine on his tray.

  He rounds the table and places them in front of us before moving back to the edge of the room. “Mr. Nelson, Mrs. Nelson, Ms. Nelson, would you also like refreshments?”

  “I’m fine,” Gilly pipes up.

  My gaze goes from Vincent to Sheila, then back to Vincent. “Not right now, Richard. Please advise the chef we are read
y for dinner to be served.”

  Richard nods and leaves once more, the room falling quiet again.

  “Jaxon, tell us about yourself. How did you meet Veronica?” Vincent asks, cradling his half-drunk tumbler.

  “His brother is engaged to April,” I say, hoping to divert what I sense is going to be a deep interrogation. Even more likely is the fact that Vincent knows the answer to this question already, thanks to the inevitable and mandatory background check he performs on anyone connected to the family. I should’ve warned Jax that he’d likely be treated like an opposing client by my father.

  This round of questioning is thankfully interrupted by two of the kitchen staff distributing plates in front of each of us.

  Once they’ve left the room, Vincent grabs his glass and holds it up in the air. “Let’s make a toast before we start our meal. To family and successful futures.”

  I make the mistake of glancing his way, a gleam in his eye and curved up corner of his mouth confirming he knows his barb scores a hit.

  Going by the flex of Jax’s fingers against my knee, it was subtle but definitely not missed. To his credit, he doesn’t say anything; I half expected him to speak, and if he had, it wouldn’t have helped matters. Vincent thrives on confrontation—one of the reasons I spent years not reacting, and when I did, he never saw it coming or had time to stop it.

  I played the long game with my father. Years of this exact treatment and their ‘looking down their noses’ mentality helped me make up my mind about quitting the firm and following my passion. Gilly and I used to joke that I was dropped off at the wrong house by the stork because my attitude, my empathy, my view of the world, and my loyalty to my friends and family does not come from my parents. Gilly is like me in all of those respects but she honestly enjoys being a lawyer and working for our father’s firm. Part of me wonders if she still plays the big sister role to this day. She’s always had my back and always will, defending me to my father is just one of many ways she does this.

  At thirty, I didn’t want my big sister to have to do that anymore. At thirty-one, I know she’ll do it regardless.

  I focus on the dinner plate in front of me, tilting my head toward Jax and meeting his warm eyes, sending him a half-smirk when he winks at me.

 

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