by Dani Collins
“You fill your boots,” she shot back. “So now what? You’re going to sleep up here and have sex and—and—and I’m sleeping down there alone?”
“No,” her dad said with a smarmy grin. “You get the dog.”
*
It had been a short five weeks ago that Wren had sat here in Marvin and Vivien’s apartment trying to sip oxygen out of the thick fog of tension that permeated the air. Today’s meal was being fetched by Marvin, who didn’t know what he was coming back to. Trigg helped himself to a beer and poured her and his mother a wine and a soda for Sky.
“I see,” Vivien said when Trigg announced a desire to remodel some third-floor rooms, so Sky could have a room that adjoined theirs. “That will be a fun project for us, picking out paint and furniture for your room,” she said to Sky. “I wanted to do that before the wedding, to welcome you, but there simply wasn’t time.” Vivien was made of Teflon, she really was, not batting an eyelash. Her only opinion was a pleasant: “I think you’re right to give this a proper shot.”
Sky looked up from her phone to glare darkly at Wren. “Bruno says I should go to his boarding school in Switzerland.”
“In what grade?”
“I’ll finish grade seven before the end of summer.”
“I’m delighted to hear it.”
“If I do, you’d better send me to his school.”
“Finish. Then we’ll talk.”
“That’s a lie.” Sky looked to Trigg. “She’s trying to trick me into doing it. Will you promise to send me?”
“No.”
“Why not?” she cried.
“I’ve known you a month. You live with both of us for the next six years.”
“I don’t want to know either of you. Not anymore.”
“Tough.” Trigg turned his attention to his mom. “Skylar is upset that we didn’t ask her permission to sleep together. I don’t remember you asking me if you and Marvin could shack up.”
“And I remember your consternation when we told you we had decided to.” Vivien sipped her wine, eyes laughing at him over the rim of her glass. “It’s always difficult for children to realize they’re not the center of the universe, isn’t it?”
“That wasn’t my problem. I thought you’d give ol’ Marv a heart attack and this place would never get finished.”
Marvin came in at that moment carrying some of the food proving most popular in the lounge around this time of day—a heap of loaded nachos, hot wings, and Reuben fritters with mustard sauce.
He set the feast on the table and smiled warmly. “What did I miss?”
*
Wren said she wanted a nap. Trigg suspected Sky wanted to follow her and have it out with her so he asked her to drive him down to the base in the ute.
“I’ve had a beer,” he said when Sky curled her lip.
“Fine.”
They got the dog and Murphy trotted beside them as Sky practiced driving angry while still showing care and attention.
“Whatever you need to say,” he invited. “Keep it to yourself.”
“I will. Because I don’t have anything to say. Except that you’re being gross and dishonest. You said one thing and did another. I get in trouble for that.”
“When I asked your aunt to marry me, it was to get the vote. That wasn’t a lie. While we were in Germany, we talked—”
“Is that what it was?” So scathing.
“—and decided it would be good for you if we stayed married.”
“Oh, you’re having sex for me.” Sky took her hand off the wheel to splay it on her chest. “In that case, thank you.”
He was secretly adoring how deeply she drew from her well of sarcasm, but only said, “So we’re good?”
“Pffft.”
He sighed. “Princess, the day will come when you decide to have sex. Think carefully—” he almost said ‘long and hard,’ but caught himself “—about the precedent you’re setting here.”
“How about you think about the precedent you’ve already set? All weekend, people have been coming up to me and saying, ‘Oh my Gawd, Trigg married her? He’s such a man-whore. How’s that going to work?’”
“Who the f—Who said that? To you?” His daughter. Who was twelve.
“Are they wrong?” She had to pull into the weeds to make room for a flatbed delivery truck to rumble by. She stared at him. “Because I know there’s a whole section in the employee manual about how lodge workers aren’t supposed to have sex with you.”
“It’s a fraternization clause and Glory shouldn’t act like I’m the only person who has ever had slept with people who work at the lodge. She was the manager when her and Rolf got together.”
“But you had sex with the other one. You’ve had sex with, like, a lot of people.”
He glanced around, more incredulous than worried anyone was overhearing. He scratched his eyebrow. Thought about telling her this was none of her business, that she was too young and she was out of line.
But this also seemed like a teaching moment. If this was Bruno, he wouldn’t hesitate to be frank.
“Okay, listen. When you say, ‘a lot,’ it sounds like a lot. Do I date a lot? Yes. But I’m fine buying a woman a drink and having a laugh. It doesn’t have to end in fireworks.” It often had, but that was definitely not her business.
She sniffed and punched the gas, swerving back onto the road and crossing toward the operations building. “Well, you have a reputation as promiscuous. People are laughing and saying you’ll cheat on Auntie Wren. Grandma told me to ignore the gossip and that when you got back you would make sure everyone understood it was just so you could vote, but apparently you’re not going to straighten them out on that.”
“Oh, I’m going to straighten people out. Soon as you give me names.”
“How? What are you going to say?”
They got out of the ute and he whistled for the dog, then led her up to his office. Brooding. Nate’s office was empty. He went into his own and picked up his safety vest. He threw it down again, too angry to walk around when he was this mad and wasn’t sure who his target was.
Sky shrugged into her own, then looked at him expectantly.
“Who said it?” he demanded.
“Are you going to fire them? For telling the truth?”
He looked at her and saw himself. Belligerent. Confrontational. Convinced she was right because she wasn’t entirely wrong. He wanted to wring her skinny neck for forcing him to view his adult life in such an unflattering, red light.
“Aunt Lydia said—” She clammed up and suddenly had to adjust all the Velcro straps on her vest with snicks and scritches.
“You talked to her about this?”
“I thought you wanted to walk around and you’re so drunk, you need me to hold your arm.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
She sighed shortly. “She asked me if I thought you’d be nice to her. I said it wasn’t a real marriage.” She tucked her chin as she glanced at him, checking to see if she was in trouble for revealing that. “I know that was supposed to be a secret but she was my mom’s best friend. She knows, like, all our secrets.” A little frown of consternation chased across her brow.
“Did she know I was your father?”
“She always said she didn’t, but this time she admitted she knew your name was Trigg, but not your last name. She sometimes wondered if it was you, when she saw you on TV, but that seemed too far-fetched.” She bent to scratch under Murphy’s collar, making it jangle. “She said when my mom died, her and her mom tried to figure out how to find my dad, but the social workers had already taken me to my grandparents. Nana wanted to keep me and they knew my mom wanted Auntie Wren to have me. All Aunt Lydia and her mom could do…”
Sky knelt and dug in around the dog’s shoulders and chest, making his foot thump.
“What?” he prompted.
“All they could do was make sure the social workers knew that my granddad had to be watched, but he was on medication
so Nana said he would be okay. They couldn’t do anything except let me stay there and wait and see.”
“Had to be watched for what?” he said flatly, stomach muscles tensing as though for a blow.
She smoothed all the dog’s fur in long strokes. “To make sure he wasn’t mean to me.”
“Was he?”
“No. I hardly saw him.”
“But he was mean to your aunt.” The blow struck, but landed higher than he expected, into the middle of his chest. It cracked against his heart, stopping it. Then a hard beat slammed him back to life with a pulse of adrenaline that burned through his arteries, down his limbs to sting the tips of his fingers and toes. Emotions spilled out, anger and helplessness and hurt and sadness and something fierce that wanted to taste an old man’s blood.
“Aunt Lydia said that when they were growing up, my mom always kept hoping that my grandparents would go back to being like they were when her little brother was alive. But my granddad was mad that Auntie Wren was there and his son wasn’t. He made sure she knew it. Aunt Lydia wanted to know if you loved Auntie Wren and were going to look after her because no one except my mom ever did.”
*
Wren didn’t let herself sleep long. Just enough to stay up until bedtime so she could adjust back to Montana time, since she had to get up and work tomorrow morning.
When she went in search of coffee, she ran into Ilke who persuaded her onto the patio where she bought her an Irish coffee and ordered a Bloody Mary for herself.
“Busy for a Sunday,” Wren murmured as they found the only empty table. Crossing the small space took longer than it should have. Tradespeople and other staff who worked at the base saluted her and shook her hand. Their drinks arrived as they sat.
“Thank you.” Ilke offered to clink her salted rim against Wren’s sugared one.
“I should buy you a drink,” Wren said. “You did my job while I was gone.”
“I answered the phone a couple of times so other people could do your job. And you saved my dream. Thank you.”
Wren paused in licking the whipped cream off her knuckle. “Oh, please. Now you’re just embarrassing me.” She had left embarrassed miles back. She was squirming with unbearable self-consciousness.
Ilke blinked grave blue eyes, angelic blonde hair wafting around her exquisite face. “If the resort doesn’t open, I lose the only sponsor willing to take a chance on me.”
Wren sat back. “That can’t be true.”
“It was very true until a few months ago.”
Ilke was gorgeous. She ought to be doing perfume and swimsuit ads.
“Well, all I did was let Trigg put a ring on my finger and fly me to Berlin.”
“Wren.” Ilke leaned in to say in softly accented English, “I have my sources. I know that’s not all you did.”
Flustered, Wren changed the subject by asking about Ilke’s training schedule. By the time they finished their drinks, the guys were back from the base with Sky and they all had dinner together.
Nate bought, getting all sincere with her as he waited for the check, so Wren wished herself to be that old-fashioned TV signal that shrank into a dot and winked out.
“Why does it bother you that people are grateful?” Trigg asked her as they were getting ready for bed in his room.
“Because I hate calling attention to myself.”
He finished pulling off his shirt and let it dangle from his hand, ridiculously gorgeous with his broad, satiny shoulders and six-pack abs painted with mountains and waterfalls.
When she finished admiring that and got back to his eyes, she saw an odd, arrested expression on his face. She had called his attention. Completely. He stared at her as if he read things into her words she hadn’t meant to reveal.
It made her uncomfortable, so she did what she always did. Deflected. “Maybe I should stay with Sky. I wouldn’t put it past her to run away just for the attention.”
“She’s not going anywhere.” He threw his shirt on the chair. “I told her Bruno asked if he can visit again before school starts. And I told her very firmly, under no circumstances, is she to let the dog sleep with her.”
She had to chuckle at his reverse psychology. “She’ll take him with her if she does run away.”
“She’ll be pinned under the covers. He’s dense in many ways.”
She smiled and plugged in her phone. Felt unexpectedly nervous as he padded toward her. Not that he was menacing, but she smelled danger. She didn’t think he wanted to hurt her, but she feared very deeply that he could. He already held enormous power over her. Wealth and influence and this infernal sexual chemistry that she couldn’t resist. He could destroy her with the lightest pressure against her true Achilles’ heel, Sky. But all of that was overshadowed by a new specter—her own feelings for him.
Her desire for more than his touch. For a piece of his heart.
She was so terrified of that, of the anguished, screaming want inside her, she tried to burn it with the other. She threw herself against him, arms going around his waist to embrace the flash-fire heat that touching him shot through her.
His breath caught and passion flared in his eyes. Against her abdomen, the ripple of his fly became a more insistent pressure.
She let her head drop back in invitation, lips parted, and feathered her touch in the base of his spine, signaling she was eager for another wild consummation.
He only gathered her hair, smoothing it into a blunt ponytail in his fist as he scanned her features. Again she was struck by a painful twist of exposure, a terror that the touch of his gaze would do more damage than anything else in this world ever could.
“Don’t you want to…” She swallowed, so uncertain she might as well have been balanced on a tightrope above a canyon full of jagged boulders, rough waters, and sharks. Her voice thinned to a singed end, making it impossible for her to finish.
“Make love to you?” His voice was a deep rumble in his chest. The way it seemed to reverberate inside her was disturbing. Unnerving. “I do. Very much.”
The oxygen disappeared from her lungs. That wasn’t what they did. ‘Making love’ sounded too big and impactful. They were just enjoying a side benefit of a convenient marriage. She tried to say something to that effect.
But he kissed the side of her neck. It wasn’t even a kiss. Just a brush of his lips in a tender gesture that paralyzed her and made her eyes sting. He kept doing it. Tiny little nuzzles down the sensitive cord at the side of her neck that tickled, but sent tingles of warmth through her shoulders and down her chest.
“You’re so pretty,” he said, breath hot against her skin. “Sexy and dangerous.” He lifted his head so she could see that he was teasing her a little, but only a little. He was his confident, cocky self, but there was gravity in his expression that made her think he recognized their peril as clearly as she did.
Her heart began to beat outside her body.
He let go of her hair and cradled her cheek, lowered his mouth to kiss her.
She went on her tiptoes. Slid her arm around his neck and mashed her mouth to his and swept her tongue between his lips, seeking the fire that was uncontrollable and terrifying, but somehow not as risky as tenderness.
He didn’t let her incite him, though. Not past his control. He cradled her face in his two hands and kissed her slowly. Deliberately. He used his tongue and teeth, but sweetly. Arousing, then easing back to reassure, then heating things up again, before turning chaste and worshipful again. He made noises of enjoyment as he kissed her. As though this was all they would ever do. As if it was enough.
As if she was enough.
Her eyes stung. She was breathless and panting. Moved and shaking with emotion over a damned kiss. She followed the waistband of his jeans and found the button, popped it and tried to work his fly down.
“There’s no rush,” he murmured, skimming his lips down her throat again. Peppering soft kisses across her collarbone. “But let’s get rid of this.” His lips curved into a rueful
smile as he drew her T-shirt over her head.
Her bra was dispatched as swiftly, then he set his hands on her hips, thumbs on the front pockets of her jeans, two fingers on the bare skin of her waist.
He looked her over and she wished he’d turned out the light. The curtains were closed, the room still stuffy from the late afternoon sun that had set a few hours ago, but she shivered under his gaze. Her breasts prickled and her nipples hardened as if he caressed them with more than his eyes.
She was already hot and edgy and grew more frustrated as he lightly cradled her breasts. Feathered his thumb across her nipple as he watched.
“Trigg—” She ran her hands up his arms, just as he rolled the pad of his thumb over her nipple again. A nerve that ran straight down between her legs thrummed. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders in reaction. “I can’t stand it.”
“No?” His gaze came up, dazzling her with the exalted blue of his irises around liquid black pupils. “Am I hurting you?” He did it again and her knees weakened, making her cling harder to him to stay upright.
“No,” she had to admit. But he was peeling away protective layers inside her with each reverent touch, thinning her skin so she was all the more sensitive to each touch. All the more vulnerable.
At the same time, raw tendrils of desire seduced her into letting him continue his delicate assault.
His arm went around her back and he bent to lick her nipple, toying so tenderly, she surrendered, arching to offer herself as she let him take her weight. Trusting him to hold her.
He blew across her wet nipple, stimulating it to firm attention before he engulfed it with his hot mouth. She released a strangled moan of acute arousal. Carnal need. She dug her fingers into his hair, tousling and massaging his scalp, encouraging him to continue his exquisite torture.
He shifted slightly, kept hold of that breast with his big hand while he sucked on the other. Sucked and let her feel the edges of his teeth. It was basic animal bonding, teaching her that he could hurt her, but he wouldn’t. She was safe with him.
In a sudden move, he swept her feet from under her, turned and set her on the bed.
Now. Finally. She opened her jeans and wriggled them down her hips. He helped her, swept them away onto the floor, then crawled over her like a jungle animal.