SweetHarts (5 Book Box Set)

by Kira Graham

  Even I smirk, before I shake my head and shrug helplessly.

  “I don’t wanna.”

  And I really don’t. Mostly because I know why Paris said what he did. That hurt the most, and trust me, when the realization hit, partway between “The Tequila Tornado” and when I was dancing topless on the bar at Adrian’s, it wasn’t a good feeling.

  “Why not? Goddammit, that’s what we do. Zeusy, tell her!” Rosetta demands, her helpless hand gestures falling still when her husband rises, pulls her into his chest, and strokes her back soothingly. “Tell her that that’s how we prove our love.”

  But that’s the point. I don’t want to prove my love, because knowing what I think I know right now, I don’t have a fucking thing to prove. I don’t have to prove it to anyone, and I most certainly will not prove it to Paris freaking Hart, the man I loved—and the man I suspect heard me talking to Tee the morning after he seduced me. I’d bet money—every cent I have right now, in fact—that he heard me talking to Tee about not being able to carry children, and if that’s the case, then what is there to say?

  She can’t give me what I want.

  That’s what he said. He said that he didn’t want anything, or, more specifically, that he wanted nothing. Because I can’t give him what he wants, and you know what? That’s fine, then. I’m never going to change who I am, not for anyone, and even if I wanted to, I can’t change something like this.

  Screw him.

  “Rose, baby, I don’t think—”

  “That’s how we do things!” she cuts in, as if he hasn’t spoken. “We screw things up a little, but then we do crazy stuff to prove our love. Where’s the crazy?” she demands, her eyes sparking when I huff and cock my hip to the side with a surge of attitude.

  “Crazy is taking a back seat to cold hard reality right now, Rosie, and the reality is that Paris doesn’t want me. We had a shot once, maybe, before everything turned to shit for me, and before any of you try to pretend that you don’t know about the fact that I can’t have babies, stop. I’m on the reality train—”

  “What happened to denial?” Tee asks, cutting me off with a raised brow and a funny expression on her face.

  “I’ve been trying, but I’m not quite as loopy as Alex,” I admit, giggling when she preens and smiles at Chilli.

  Who smiles back and looks ready to devour her. Gosh, there really isn’t anything that I can say about us all that would fit in with the others. We’re strange and wacky, and we love each other enough that as a family, the Sweets and the Harts just make sense. Too bad I’m a Sweet for life, I think, shaking off the sadness in preparation for this new phase in my life. Reality.

  “So, you’re done pretending that you didn’t get your heart broken? Great. That means that we can move on,” Tee says, dropping her feet from the coffee table to stand up and come my way. “We should start strategizing now. I’ve got a few soft touches to introduce you to, in order to warm you up again, and then we’ll move on to the real hotties in my little black book.”

  “Firstly, eeeew! I am not dating anyone who’s had his dick anywhere near your snatch,” I tell her, meaning it more than anything in this world.

  Mostly because any guy nuts enough to sleep with Tee, and by sleep I mean get his dick near her crazy self, isn’t my type.

  “Secondly, I’m already hooked up.”

  So…sure, I have no intention of actually going on any of the dates that Mindy’s been setting up for me, but I’m thinking that a middle-aged bald man who lives in his mama’s basement and probably jerks off to porn before going to church on Sunday, is safer than anyone Tee knows.

  “With who?” Tee asks, her face pulling into a grimace of disgust when I tell her.

  “No way. I’ve seen the men that Mindy’s been dating. Gag,” Cleo says, shuddering so strongly that Adonis rubs her back soothingly.

  It’s not that I actually ever intended to date those guys, but hell, you see how well my refusals have been going over with these people. They don’t take no for an answer, and if they’re here to get me moving again, then at least this way, I get to have some choices.

  “What? No! She’s supposed to be stalk-ducing Paris,” Rose whines, punching Zeus softly in the gut when he tries to shush her. “Sin!”

  “Nope,” I tell her, sashaying my ass back towards my bedroom, because no one’s made even a mite uncomfortable by my unclothed ass.

  “But Sinny!” Rosetta whines, following me into the room and into my closet, where I pull out a pair of white skinny jeans, a pink off-the-shoulder sweater, and a white tank top.

  “Stop,” I tell her, shimmying into some clean underwear and my clothes as she tries to list each and every single flaw in my logic, all while getting so red in the face that she looks like a tomato about to explode.

  “Sinai.”

  “Rosetta. Look, let’s get things squared away and cleared off the floor before one of us trips and face-plants into delusion territory. Paris Hart doesn’t want to be with me. I said some pretty unforgivable things at a time in my life when I was too emotional to deal with what he was feeling for me, and, as a result, I ended something that could have been spectacular, before it even started. That’s on me,” I say honestly, sighing when she pouts. “I’ve tried apologizing, I’ve begged for forgiveness, and I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself to prove to him that I’m more than willing to go the distance for him. And it hasn’t worked. I’ve tried to deny it—hell, I’ve sketched out enough plans to stalk him to last till we’re ninety—but at the end of the day, I have to face the facts, and the facts are that we’re done. Dead in the water. A package unopened and unlikely to get delivered.”

  “But…but you’re so perfect for each other,” she whispers tearfully, making me smile softly and slouch down on the ottoman in the middle of my closet.

  Slinging an arm around her shoulders, I try to remember that she’s pregnant and that she’s bound to be a fool, what with all those hormones coursing through her.

  “Not really. Not at all, if we’re going to be honest. In the last few months, I’ve seen a side to Paris that I didn’t know existed, one that I don’t think most people notice at all. He’s intense and hard and cold when he wants to be, and that doesn’t go well with my emotional rollercoaster of personality traits. And that’s okay, because I’m not lying to myself about things anymore. I can’t have kids—no, don’t butt in; listen. I can’t have kids, and I need to find someone that I know will be okay with that. I also need to find someone who won’t sleep with me and bounce the morning after, even after getting a declaration of love like the one I gave Paris.”

  Rosetta gasps, and I feel a groan work its way up my throat when her eyes narrow, glaring at me so hard that it looks like one of her eyeballs is going to bug out of her skull.

  “He didn’t!”

  “He did. And that’s the point, Rosie. I told him that I loved him, and he laughed in my face—”

  “I’ll kill that fucker!”

  “Stop it! You’ll do no such thing, Rosetta. I basically did the same thing to him, so if we’re being honest, I kinda deserved it,” I say ruefully, silently hating him because, even if I deserved it, it sucked.

  “Christ. This is all such a huge mess, especially after everything we’ve all been through,” she sighs, making me sigh as well and give her a side-hug of comfort. “I just thought…”

  “I know. But listen—it’s okay. I’ve wallowed in my own misery, had that all-important grieving period that Uncle Jack insists I needed, and am now feeling better-ish. Who knows? Maybe dating a few gross Bible-thumpers is just what I need to get me over this funk, and then I’ll finally be able to jump-start myself again,” I laugh, giggling when she shudders and makes a face.

  “You cannot date anyone that Mindy suggests to you. You’ll have zero sex,” she whines, her lips twitching when I shudder and make a sound of disgust.

  “Who’d want to, with those guys?”

  “So…so, uh, maybe I could
introduce you—”

  “Rose!”

  “No! This is good. I know the perfect guy!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sinai

  “I’m digging the dress,” Grange purrs, his eyes going all over my slinky pink silk sheath, and the way that the thing clings to my thighs while pooling low at the bottom of my back, leaving an expanse bare to the hand that he slides down my skin.

  I shiver, halfway liking the sensation, yet partly uncomfortable when he settles his hand on my hip and pulls me into his side. The move is meant to convey seduction, and with the way that Grange is looking at me, I can tell that he’s enjoying the task, as I glance around the crowded room and bite my lip.

  When Rosetta told me that she knew the perfect guy, I pictured meeting some hot accountant from her office, not going on a major date with Grange, of all people.

  “The dress was Rosetta’s idea, and while I tried to veto it, she threatened to kill me if I didn’t wear what she’d selected,” I reply ruefully, giving up and melting into him when he doesn’t take the hint and give me some space.

  What, like it’s a huge chore to melt into the body of a man who isn’t just hot, but smoking? I think not. Plus, I like Grange. Unlike Heath, he doesn’t seem to give a shit that I’m recovering from a broken heart and am on the rebound. Trust me—he actually said those words to me, and also advised me that he’d be totally into rebound sex with me for the next few months because he was willing to “take the hit”—he said that part tongue in cheek—if it meant that we’d eventually settle into a relationship.

  I can say this for the usually stoic and expressionless Grange: he doesn’t lack confidence, and so far, I understand why, especially when he sees Paris across the room and peers down at me while licking his lips and sliding that hand precariously close to my ass.

  “Stop trying to annoy him. It’s not going to work. Besides, I thought that you were into more than a revenge date,” I purr, giggling when his lips twitch into an almost-smile, and he shrugs.

  “I enjoy riling the little shit up, is all. And while I do not want to undermine my own chances of getting laid, I’m not averse to earning points by impressing you with my mercenary side. Admit it—you’re enjoying those silent glares,” he prods, his enjoyment causing a bubble of mirth to burst free.

  I admit it. I do really like that Paris has been glaring his way across the room, so slowly and sneakily that he’s closing in little by little. Why he’s doing it is beyond me, but like I said, I enjoy knowing that he’s annoyed. It takes some of the sting out of attending Lovey’s party after everything that’s happened. It also helps that Rosetta is in full kill mode tonight, and she’s going out of her way to throw shade at Chantel, the blonde bimbo who has somehow managed to stick with Paris over the last few weeks.

  Do I like that he’s been outright dating the same woman for more than just a few days? No. Not really. It sort of tells me that this one is more than just a fuck-bunny to a guy who’s basically avoided commitment for the better part of a decade. But hell, I’ve been living every guru’s dream of reworked broken-hearted fool for the last three weeks, and the whole point of it all is that I am now over him. Totally over him. According to Tee, who’s my unspoken guru of “get over it,” the best way to shake off a broken heart is to get back in the saddle and ride the horse like a hell-bent cowgirl. Of course, her version includes my riding a man until his balls are dry and my vagina is one big strip of chafe, so we’re not quite on the same page, buuuut…we’re compromising.

  Which is why I finally caved and let Rosetta set me up. With Grange, of all people. But he’s hot, guys. Like, drool-on-your-chin hot, and all that angry, dangerous darkness that he’s got going pushes all my buttons. It does. It really does!

  Goddammit, stop looking at Paris and pay attention to your date, Sinai!

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re awesome?” I ask Grange, trying to get back into the flow of things and not make an idiot of myself tonight.

  I’m on a date. With a sexy man who could rip a guy apart with his bare hands. I have no business staring at Paris Hart, or picturing ripping all of Chantel Strutland’s hair out. I’m over him!

  “A few women,” Grange murmurs, smiling a little when I sigh and turn away from Paris to meet his eyes.

  “Well, they were right. You are awesome. And sexy. And more than a little wantable,” I say softly, hating myself a little when his eyes go soft on me and fill with a knowing light.

  “But you’re not feeling me,” he finishes, his hand stroking my hip softly as I growl low in my throat, frustration making me so angry that I want to break something.

  “Dammit. I should be. Any woman worth her vagina would throw you down in the middle of this room, straddle you like a bucking bull, and have her way with you.”

  “Sin, like I told you, honey, I’m more than willing to be your rebound bull, and I’m completely okay with you using me to make him jealous.”

  “But I don’t want to!” I mutter, my words filled with frustration and a sense of hopelessness. “I like you, and I don’t want you to be some fling for me.”

  Look at me being all in touch with my feelings, I think snidely, my frustration growing when I sneak a peek over at Paris and see Chantel practically dripping all over him, her face so filled with adoration that it galls me.

  Grange sighs, and in that sound, I hear amusement, acceptance, and a little anger. That last is most definitely directed at Paris, because he curses the guy even as he turns me fully toward him and slides his hands to both of my hips, the move seductive and meant to convey a message.

  “Your problem is that you care too much about people.”

  “No, I don’t! Yesterday, I stole an old lady’s parking spot at the supermarket, and then I laughed my ass off when she found me and tried to hit me with her cane. I told Alex that her boobs look gross, and I made Rosetta cry when I sent her birthing photos and told her that her clam is going to turn into jam after she gets that baby outta her junk. Last week, I even called Honey up and told her that her new haircut makes her look like a middle-aged lesbian!” I whisper defensively, the thought of being soft, like Alex, turning my stomach sour.

  I’m not soft, dammit. I’m still the same Sin who put superglue in my father’s shampoo bottle and laughed herself hoarse when he came out of the shower screaming, with his hands stuck to his hair!

  I prank people, and I say just what I want to, no matter how people feel, because I don’t care. That’s who I am. Isn’t it? Dammit! What the hell is wrong with me lately?

  Grange chuckles, and the sound is so sweet and husky that I find my head shooting up and almost topple over when I see his face. God help me, the man is beautiful when he smiles.

  “I think you care very much, Sinai, which is why I’m here with you, offering myself, even though I suspected that you’d turn me down,” he says ruefully, tenderly laying a kiss on my cheek when I blink and try to find something to say.

  “I don’t want to turn you down,” I whisper, a little choked up.

  “Then let’s not focus on that right now. How about we relax—talk, eat, have a few drinks, and just enjoy ourselves tonight? Let that be a start, and we’ll go from there,” he suggests, his calm, easy manner going a long way towards easing the tension that I’ve been holding in since he showed up at my door looking sexy, naughty, and ready to blow my world apart.

  Smiling, I nod and allow him to pull me towards the buffet table, where Lovey and Cleo have set out a spread good enough to impress royalty. The next two hours are spent eating, sipping on cocktails, and listening to people praise Lovey as we celebrate another charity event that she’s hit out of the park. By the time I’ve had enough cocktails to spark a good buzz, and Grange is talking football with Zeus, I feel as if I’m in the clear. That could be because Paris finally stopped looking this way, I think, giggling as I disentangle myself from Grange and whisper to him that I’m going to go use the facilities.

  On the way the
re, I pass more security than I think can be found at the White House, and I even catch sight of Heath, who throws me a wave and a smile before making his way into the big ballroom, where most of the guests look to be just starting this party. When I reach the downstairs bathroom, or rather, bathrooms that are open for guests, I see a line that makes my bladder scream and curse me for the water I drank when Grange shoved a bottle at me.

  “Yo. Anyone here willing to let me go first? I need to pee like no one’s business!” I yell to the crowd of women, silently cursing them to hell when they frown, and someone gives me an unequivocal no.

  Well.

  “Fuck you, anyway,” I mumble, ignoring the rope that declares the upstairs area off limits.

  Lovey wouldn’t mind my going up there, and anyway, it’s either this or popping a squat over one of her precious potted plants. By the time that I’ve found a bathroom upstairs, drained my bladder, and washed my hands, I’m more than ready to go back downstairs, eat some more, and then maybe blow this party.

  My phone rings inside the clutch that I’ve laid beside the sink, and I answer it with a grin when I see who’s calling.

  “Please tell me that I can leave now,” Tee whines, her ever-present snarl evident and growing louder when I hear Ares chuckle on the other end of the line, his amusement telling me that he’s been goading Tee again. “I need some real booze, a good round of dancing, and better company than this peace-loving yahoo.”

  “Aw, trouble in paradise?” I tease, smiling when she curses so soundly that I hear a hiss, and then Honey’s own threats that I can just imagine Tee rolling her eyes at.

  “Screw you. There’s no paradise! Please let me leave. If I tell Rosetta that you said it’s okay, then she’ll stop following me around.”

  “Fine, but—”

  The phone goes dead before I can make her promise to wait for me, and I giggle when I picture Nefertiti making a sprint for the door as Honey and Rosetta chase after her. This isn’t exactly Tee’s scene, especially not when the people present are off limits for a beat-down and I’ve watched her side-eyeing Chantel all night, so it’s safe to say that she needs to get out of here before she pulls an assault that she can’t shake.