Dakota retrieved her ball and drove it back into play. On my turn, I gave a half-hearted swing. The ball ambled a few feet and came to a stop.
Venetia turned accusing eyes to mine. “Seriously? Is that all you’ve got?” She frowned. “I expected better from you, Beckett.”
“Me, too,” Tucker added. He had a mint julep in one hand and twirled his mallet through the air with the other. “You’re a professional ball handler. Have some pride, man.”
I shrugged. “Was. I was a professional basketball player. A million years ago. My specialty is law now. Besides, it’s too damn hot.” Humidity plastered my shirt to my chest. I plucked at it with two fingers but found little relief from the heat or the tension of the game. “This isn’t even a real sport.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little friendly competition.” Venetia had gotten closer until I could see the smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose brought out by the sun. Her breath held the faint odor of liquor. With a fingertip, she lowered her sunglasses and peered over the frames at me. Challenge lit her eyes.
“I like competition,” I replied, meeting her stare. “Especially when the prize is something I want.” What? Wait. Shit. I shouldn’t have said that, yet the fire in her eyes made my groin tighten with need and the wish to taunt her more.
“What do you want?” The timbre of her voice lowered, sultry and smooth, so only I could hear. “Care to make a wager?”
“How about another kiss?” My gaze dipped to her mouth.
Her pink tongue smoothed over her lower lip in a decadent slide. Too many mint juleps before lunch had loosened my inhibitions, had my common sense tied up in knots.
“What the hell, Venetia?” Sam’s angry voice brought a screeching halt to our wordplay. A half dozen long strides placed him between us. I glanced away, flushed with guilt. He wrapped a hand around her bicep and jerked her to his side. “No drama. You promised.”
“The only drama I see is yours.” She yanked her arm out of his grip and glared back at him with equal intensity. “It’s a game, Sam. Get over it.”
“You get over it,” he growled.
“Touchy, touchy,” Venetia teased. I’d witnessed a hundred similar altercations between them. They were passionate, playful, quick to anger, and quicker to forgive. She loved to irritate him in the way only a little sister can do, and Sam ate it up.
“Give him a break, V,” I said. “The man’s under a lot of stress.” I watched him gather Dakota and retreat in the direction of the house.
Venetia poked me in the chest with the handle of her mallet. “You’re so sensitive for a big guy.”
“And you’re so drunk.” I gripped the end of the mallet and gave it a small tug. She stumbled forward and placed a hand on my chest to recover her balance. My heart thudded against her palm. She stared at her hand. A live connection jolted between us. Her gaze lifted to mine, dropped to my mouth, and flickered up again.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m done. It’s too hot out here.” Tucker approached. “Let’s go swimming.” His gaze bounced between Venetia and me. “You need to put a leash on that anaconda.” He pointed his mallet at my crotch.
Venetia’s fingers lingered over the swell of my chest. Whatever had sparked between us flickered and died. She backed away, looking everywhere but at me, then turned and disappeared in the opposite direction as Sam. I exhaled in relief, feeling like I’d just passed through the eye of a hurricane.
Chapter 6
Venetia
TO COOL our tempers and sunburned skin, the group headed to the pool following the croquet match. Sydney arrived in time for the fun, wearing a Hawaiian print sarong and matching bikini. She floated on a raft next to me, a mimosa in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
Within seconds of her appearance, Tucker paddled over to greet her, all lazy smiles and quiet stares. “Sydney,” he said, drawling out the syllables, making her name sound almost dirty in his Kentucky twang.
“Hey, Tucker,” she replied, red lips parted in a brilliant smile of her own.
He rested a hand on the corner of her raft and treaded water next to her. They regarded each other in wordless admiration. The sexual tension between them thickened the air around us until I blinked away, uncomfortable. If I didn’t know better, I’d think something was going on. But I did know better. Sydney had a boyfriend, the co-star of her television show, a handsome, charismatic Australian.
“Hey, yourself,” Tucker said.
She batted long, black lashes at him. For a second I thought they might kiss or do something equally reckless, but Beckett broke their trance by diving off the board in a perfect arc. His lean form sliced the surface at the opposite end of the pool without a ripple.
I followed the shadow of Beckett’s body through the clear depths and felt a small thrill when he passed beneath me, close enough to cause an undercurrent to swirl and eddy around my body, rocking my floating chair. Was there anything this man couldn’t do and do well? Handsome, athletic, and smart. The trifecta of male pulchritude. He surfaced a few feet away, shaking his head and flinging water in all directions, dark locks hanging in messy waves over his forehead.
Tucker fist-pumped the air. “Yeah, man. You’re the king.” Taking Beckett’s prowess as a personal challenge, Tucker abandoned Sydney. He splashed to the ladder for a turn, but my attention remained on Beckett.
He was tall enough to stand on the bottom near me, the upper third of his torso above the surface. From behind the safety of my sunglasses, I admired his shape, the perfect slope of his shoulders, the round swell of his biceps, the definition of sinew and muscle roped by thick veins. He had to work out every day to have a body like that, eat right, train hard. I held my breath as he waded toward the side, his gaze flicking over me in the briefest of glances. One look from him sent me back through the years. I was fourteen again, heart hammering in my chest, mouth dry, overwhelmed by his hotness. Droplets of water glistened on the six-pack of his abdomen. Each step revealed another inch of smooth, tanned flesh, a flat belly button, a trail of black hair leading into the waistband of his trunks, the deep cut of muscle on each hip. When he reached the edge of the pool, he hoisted himself to the deck in one effortless motion and sauntered back to the diving board.
“Did you see that?” Sydney whispered. “Holy hell.” She grabbed the edge of my float and pulled me closer. “I think my ovaries just exploded.”
One of the things I loved best about Sydney was her sense of humor. I laughed, relieved to have a distraction. “You’re a goof.”
“No. I’m serious. You were with that last night, V. My respect for you has reached a whole new level.”
“Shhhh.” I scowled and cast a covert glance around the area. “In the vault, remember? You need to lock it up tight and never let it out.”
“Right.” She didn’t sound convinced but nodded anyway.
“And stop staring at him. He’s going to know I told you.”
“Why do you care? If it was me, I’d send out a press release.”
While Tucker took his place on the end of the diving board, Beckett stood alongside. Although he was too far away to see his eyes clearly, I felt the weight of his gaze on us. Heat burned in my cheeks, intensified by the afternoon sun. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never shown this much interest in me. I liked his gaze on me. After a lifetime of going unnoticed, I gloried in the attention and the long-overdue boost to my ego.
“Your whole life is public property, Syd. You couldn’t keep anything a secret, even if you wanted to.”
For a moment, she looked wistful, and my heart squeezed for her. While no one ever noticed me, everyone noticed Sydney. She lived in a fish bowl and had grown accustomed to the total invasion of privacy, the constant swarm of cameras, everyone talking about and watching her.
“What’s with you and Tucker, anyway?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Her eyes lit with playful fire. “Yet.”
“Syd, do I ne
ed to remind you that you have a boyfriend? Alex? Remember?”
She dipped a shoulder in a dismissive shrug, smiling again. “We have an agreement. When we’re apart, we can see other people.”
“Really?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Does Tucker know about Alex?”
“I don’t know. Does Sam know you’re screwing his best friend?” Her pretty face puckered into a scowl. “Don’t be a grandma. I’m just going to play a little with Tuck. No one will ever know.” Narrowed eyes bored into me. “Unless you tell.”
I groaned. “I wish I’d never said anything.”
“You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.” The smile returned to her lips. She splashed me playfully.
“That’s blackmail.”
“I know.” Obvious delight lilted in her voice, and I bit my lower lip to hold back a smile. “Now, get over there right now and stake your claim on Mr. Ovary-Exploder.”
For the briefest moment, I contemplated her suggestion. What would it feel like to belong to him? I fantasized about walking up to him, digging my fingers into his thick hair and planting a kiss on his full lips—in broad daylight—in front of everyone. The idea curled my toes. Only his ambivalence stopped me. My gaze wandered back and collided with his. He looked quickly away to chide Tucker.
“This is my specialty dive,” Tucker announced. He gave Sydney a wink. Two running steps and one leap sent him high into the air. The tip of the board vibrated from the impact of his feet. He somersaulted, tucking his knees beneath his chin, and landed with a resounding smack a few feet from us. The resultant tidal wave capsized my float. The cocktail in my hand tumbled into the pool.
Sydney shrieked and clutched her raft. “Tucker!” she fumed. “That’s not funny. You know I can’t swim.”
“Don’t worry, darling.” He stroked through the waves to her side and steadied the raft. “I’ll save you.”
“Nice,” Beckett called after him. “Now, let a real man show you how it’s done.”
“Jesus. What the hell happened to your back?” Tucker’s attention drifted from Sydney to Beckett, who’d turned to mount the diving board.
“What?” Beckett twisted in an attempt to see over his shoulder.
Bright sunshine glinted off his back and highlighted a series of five red scratches from his nape to his waist. Blood rushed into my cheeks. I put a hand to my mouth to hold back a gasp. Sydney laughed so hard I thought she might tumble from her float.
“It looks like a hellcat got hold of you,” Tucker chided. “That must’ve been some good time you had last night.”
Beckett avoided my stare. He bounced on the end of the board, testing the spring. “A gentleman never tells.”
“That’ll be a first.” Sam sauntered onto the scene. “Usually you like to regale us with all the sordid details.”
I groaned and slid from the chair into the cool depths until the water closed over my head. Beneath the surface, I could hear my heart beat and relished the serenity of the moment. A shaft of sunlight cut through the waves and cast prisms on the concrete floor. I wasn’t sure how to deal with Beckett, and I most definitely didn’t want to discuss my sex life in front of an audience. Drowning seemed like a viable alternative. A muted splash rescued me. Beckett’s form torpedoed through the blue water and glided past me. A sharp pinch stung my bottom. I pushed off the pool floor to resurface, in need of oxygen. Beckett popped up a few feet away, a smirk curving his mouth. For a few blissful seconds, everyone else faded away, and we were alone. I returned his smile and forgot to be afraid.
After Tucker and Beckett completed their diving competition, the atmosphere began to quiet. Crockett stretched out on one of the hammocks beneath the trees. Sydney and Tucker sprawled on a blanket near the garden gate. Rockwell, Mrs. Atwell, Sam, and Dakota sat around a patio table. Their smiles and laughter floated over the mirrored surface of the pool. From my vantage point a few yards away, they looked like a typical family, one to which I didn’t belong.
I sat on the edge of the pool and dangled my legs in the water. Mrs. Atwell leaned forward and squeezed Dakota before dropping a kiss on her forehead. An uncomfortable ache filled my ribcage. They seemed happy, contented. I turned my attention to the young man trimming roses in a nearby flowerbed. What was it like to have a mom who gave out hugs and smiles instead of reprimands and admonishments? Sit up straight, Venetia. Enunciate clearly, Venetia. Not now, Venetia. The muscles in my forehead tightened. The unpleasant memories were all I had of my mother, yet I clung to them.
“If you frown any harder, your face is going to freeze like that.” Beckett’s deep, smooth voice interrupted my pity party. He sat in the deck chair at my left and stretched his long legs in front of him. Coarse black hair covered the bronzed muscles of his thighs and calves. Mirrored aviators hid his eyes, but I felt them peruse over me.
“Maybe I just have resting bitch face.” I lowered my sunglasses from my hair to my nose, abashed to be caught staring at my new in-laws.
“You’ve got a beautiful face.” The praise buoyed my spirits. He smiled, lifting my mood even more when a dimple popped next to his mouth. “There we go. That’s better.”
“Last night—how did that happen?” I asked, overwhelmed by the need to know. “I mean, what’s changed? You barely noticed me before.”
His brows dipped lower and furrowed. I wished he’d take off those damn sunglasses so I could see his eyes, because I had no idea how to judge his sincerity. “Oh, believe me, I noticed you before then.” The corners of his lips tipped up. “But you were a kid. Off limits. You’re still off limits.” Even though I couldn’t see the direction of his gaze, I felt it slide over my breasts. My nipples tingled behind the small triangles of the bikini top. “As for last night—well—I’m only human.”
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“It’s not a compliment. It’s a fact. And if Sam wasn’t your brother, and I wasn’t a jerk, you’d have to fight me away with a baseball bat.”
Holy hell. This confession muddied the anger I’d been clinging to for self-preservation. I melted a little inside.
“Excuse me,” said an unfamiliar voice. “Are you Dakota Atwell?” I looked up into the face of a plantation employee. He held up a small express mail package. “She’s got a delivery.”
“No. She’s over there.” I pointed toward Dakota. The young man nodded and made his way across the lawn to my future sister-in-law. She took the package and turned it over a couple of times in her hands, shooting a quizzical look at my brother.
Sam shrugged, a half smile on his lips, but I saw the concern in his eyes. “Don’t look at me.” He lifted his hands into the air in a gesture of non-compliance.
“Well, don’t just sit there. Open it,” Crockett prodded.
Dakota tore open the plain brown package to reveal a smaller black velvet box inside. The name Cabot & Cabot, the most prestigious designer of upscale jewelry in the country, was engraved on the top. She opened the lid and gasped. I blinked against the blinding glare of diamonds and sapphires set in platinum.
“Oh my,” Mrs. Atwell said and placed a hand over her heart.
“Sam?” Dakota’s brow furrowed as she lifted the necklace into the air. Sunlight winked from the gemstones. I’d seen a similar handcrafted piece in Cabot & Cabot’s display window and knew it was worth at least ten thousand dollars.
“It’s not from me.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. He withdrew a small card from the box and read it aloud. “All my love and best wishes. You’re going to need them. M.S.”
“Maxwell Seaforth?” Dakota dropped the necklace into the box like her fingers had been burned. I gaped at her while a hundred contradictory thoughts galloped through my head.
In all of my life, my father had never given me anything. Sure, he’d provided a roof over my head and financed my education, but I’d always felt it was because he had to and not because he wanted to. He’d never bought me a birthday present or a gift for Christmas. Nothing. All I desired was five min
utes of his time, his acknowledgment, and to know he cared. He couldn’t be bothered to remember his own daughter, but he had time enough to lavish gifts on his daughter-in-law. I dragged my lower lip between my teeth and tried to hold back the hurt.
I fled to a quiet room to change out of my bikini and spent the entire time vacillating between hurt and outrage. After I paced a dozen rounds of the small room, some of the steam began to dissipate from my anger. I sank onto the edge of the bed, exhausted from my fit of temper. Sam still chose Dakota. After the necklace. After everything. After all the lies, deceit, and heartache, he aligned with her. I knew Sam well enough to know once he’d made up his mind, he couldn’t be swayed. Beckett was right. I needed to rethink my strategy. Before I could devise a new approach, a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Dakota opened the door. We stared at each other for an uncomfortable beat. The frown must’ve been evident on my face because she hesitated at the threshold. I gave her an assessing look, wondering what about her had my brother so entranced. Wavy brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. She was shorter than me, a few pounds heavier, with average features. Sam had been chased by supermodels and actresses. Her mom had been our cook, for goodness sake. He could have any woman he wanted, but he wanted her—this normal girl from a working-class family, a fact my parents had never accepted.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked.
“I guess.”
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Judging by the furrow between her brows, she’d heard every word of my earlier argument with Sam. I braced for her anger. In fact, I welcomed the chance to unleash my fury on her.
“I love him,” she said simply. “I always have. And I get that you’re worried about him because you love him too.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Dakota.” I continued stuffing things into my suitcase. Why had I packed so much for a single day? “You ruined my family.”
Pretty Dirty Secrets: An Unconventional Love Story (Pretty Broken Book 3) Page 4