My family is so busy arguing about which is better, mild or hot salsa, that nobody notices I’m being freaked out and messed with by a true master player. Mick is just plain dangerous. I seriously underestimated his skills.
“Maybe you should be. Depends.” His leg brushes up against mine, and I both hate and love the fact that I chose to wear shorts today.
“Shut up,” I whisper under my breath. I’m about to give him a heavy dose of reality when his hand goes under the table and touches my bare thigh.
“You’ve got great legs,” he whispers. Then in a louder voice, he says, “Quinlan, could you pass the guacamole?” He takes his hand off my thigh and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Mrs. Torres, the food is amazing. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages.”
“What? Are you serious? What are you eating?” she asks, totally falling for the charm that oozes out of every pore of his body.
“Hot Pockets, I’ll bet,” says Olympia.
Shasta starts singing a Hot Pockets song I’m pretty sure she made up since it involves mention of bodily functions.
I want to hate him for what he’s doing to me and my entire family, but I have to respect him on some level. I’m pretty sure my mom’s about to offer to adopt him and my sisters are just turning into complete and utter fools in his presence. Thank God at least Jersey has found his happy, calm place. Dinner usually chills his gills and I’m glad tonight is no exception.
“I eat frozen pizza and TV dinners, mostly. Life of a bachelor non-cook, I guess.” He shrugs like he didn’t just invite himself to the next fifty family meals. Man, he’s good.
“Well, you’re welcome here anytime,” my mom says, while my dad nods.
Suckers. I drop my fork in frustration. It’s ridiculous how naive my parents are. Can’t they see he’s just working us over?
“No, he’s not,” I say, a little sharper than I meant to.
Everyone stops talking at the same time and looks at me. Jersey’s expression goes into the land of the lost. My sisters appear excited over the events that are about to unfold. Apparently, I’ve thrown down the gauntlet without even realizing that’s what I was doing.
“Quinlan, what is wrong with you tonight?” My dad leans in and squints his eyes at me. “Are you feeling okay?”
I throw my napkin on the table next to my plate, flustered and angry at myself and the current circumstances I’ve created. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little pissed that you blew off my best friend Teagan when she needed a place to stay and you’re about to adopt this guy right off the street without even knowing him. No big deal.”
I leave the room in a huge hurry, knowing I just showed off the very worst part of my personality - the one that speaks before thinking and the one that is sometimes stuck with the brain of a twelve-year-old girl. Something about Mick completely throws me off my game, and it’s freaking me out. Why am I an idiot whenever he’s around? Why can’t I just be cool?
I storm off to my bedroom and flick on my stereo, flopping down on my bed, stomach-first. Smashing my pillow over the back of my head, I force myself to block out the sounds of anything but the music. I don’t even want to hear my own thoughts.
I don’t know how much later I feel someone tugging on my foot. I roll over, ready to blast whoever it is, but I zip my mouth before I can. My mom is sitting there with her sad face on. I can never fight the sad face.
“Sweetie, I want to talk to you for just a second.”
“Fine. Talk.” I throw my pillow behind my head and punch it on the sides a few times to fluff it up.
“You had a hard time at the doctor’s office today, didn’t you?”
I sigh heavily but say nothing. I don’t need to burden my mom with that crap. She has enough on her plate.
“What did he say? Is Jersey okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. It’s nothing. I’m just in a mood. My period’s coming or something.”
“Mick seems nice,” she says, giving me a tentative smile.
“Mom, don’t, okay? He’s not interested in me.” It makes me almost cry to say that. “He came with Teagan and Jersey snagged him and he felt obligated to follow through. That’s it. He’s not here for me or for him. He’ll be gone soon and you’ll never see him again.”
She jiggles my foot some more. “I wouldn’t count on that.” She stands, but now she’s got my attention, so I sit up quickly.
“What’d he say? Did he say something?” I bite my lip, wishing I didn’t sound so eager.
“He said lots of things, but you’ve been too busy having a pity party to hear them. Come on down for dessert.”
I flip over onto my side, hating that she’s right. “No. I’m too tired. Teagan’s coming to get Mick any minute. Tell him I said goodbye.”
“You sure?” she says at the door.
“Yes,” I say, not sure at all. I’m probably making a big mistake by being so rude, but my heart won’t let me leave my room. I’ve gotten my hopes up with guys before, but any of them that got close enough to be near my family never stuck around much longer after that. I’ve pretty much come to terms with the fact that I’ll never have a serious relationship with a guy until I’m grown and gone from this place. Thoughts of rooming with Teagan float through my mind again.
I’m still fantasizing about what color I’d paint my bedroom at her house when there’s another knock at my door. “Go away!” I yell. “I said I don’t want dessert!”
The door pushes in and I turn over to blast the intruder with threats I fully intend to follow up on. They all go unsaid as I see Mick standing in my doorway, holding two plates with cake and forks on them.
“Room service,” he says, coming in and putting one down on my side table.
I sit up in a hurry, doing what I can to smooth the sides of my hair down. Rolling around on my pillow has done nothing good for my ponytail, which, I can tell by the poofs of fluffy, raggedy hair I feel above my ears, has gone rogue. Great. I look like the Joker now.
“I’m not in the mood for dessert,” I say, swinging my legs over to the side of my bed.
He sits down next to me, digging into his own piece. “I’d taste it first, if I were you. This is some good stuff.” He shoves a giant bite into his mouth and smiles.
“You’re evil, you know that?” I ask. I can’t stop the smile from coming to my lips.
“I’ve been called that before.” He shrugs. “At this point I’m taking it as a compliment.”
I lean over and pick up my cake plate. “Why are you here, Mick?” I keep my eyes on my fork and cake, knowing that if I look at him, I’ll chicken out.
“Just having some fun, some good food. Hanging out with friends.”
A bite of cake freezes halfway to my mouth. “What friends?”
He nudges me with his elbow. “Come on, man. Don’t be like that. We can be friends, can’t we?”
My heart skips another couple beats. I shake my head as I eat my cake. “I guess.” Do I even want to be friends with him? I don’t know. It feels risky. Like, really risky, and that says a lot coming from me.
“Good. I’m working at the club tonight if you want to come hang out. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Another bite of cake disappears down my throat as I consider his offer. “Maybe. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.”
“Then come.” He nudges me again. “It’ll be fun. DJ Foxx is going to be there tonight. She’s awesome.”
“She?”
“Yeah. I’ll introduce you if you want. She’s from New York City. You’d like her.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?”
“Because. She’s tough.”
I look at him to try and figure out what he’s getting at, but he’s too focused on his cake to notice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His fork stops partway off his plate, headed to his mouth. “Nothing.” He’s trying to act all innocent, but he doesn’t fool me. But I’m not in the mood to hear all about myself right now, so I play along.
>
“Whatever. Maybe I’ll see you. Maybe I won’t.” I don’t know if I can handle seeing him out at the club. It’s hard enough sitting next to him at a family dinner. When he’s in the club all dressed for the night, he’s too much. I know because I’ve seen it once before. And until his brother played super-asshole that night, I was ready to do a serious panty-drop just looking at him.
He shoves the last of his cake into his mouth, stands, and pulls his phone out of his pocket. It’s then that I realize it was buzzing. I’d thought it was my pulse. Being near him is making my system go offline. I quickly smooth my hair down while he’s distracted with the phone call.
“Yeah. Okay, I’ll be out in a second.” He puts his plate down on my desk and wipes his face off with the back of his hand as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Do I have anything in my teeth?” he asks, giving me a huge grin.
I smile and point. “Yeah. Chocolate.”
“Where?” He leans in closer to me.
“Everywhere.” I can’t stop smiling.
He gets even closer. “Get it out for me.”
“Go away,” I say, pushing on his shoulder. I don’t use a whole lot of force because honestly, I don’t want him going anywhere right now. I just caught a whiff of his cologne and he couldn’t be more charming if he tried. I think a little piece of me just fell in love with him. Today’s been a hell of a day.
He moves so quick I don’t even see it coming. Once second he’s grinning chocolatey teeth at me and the next his lips have pressed into mine. A quick smooching sound and he’s gone again, back to standing in front of me. “See you around, Quinlan.”
He’s through the door before I can get my shit together enough to respond. “Don’t call me Quinlan!” I yell at his back.
Jumping up, I run to my window as Mick calls out goodbyes to my whole family. I can hear Jersey banging around and shouting with happiness. He’s obviously had too much cake.
Rebel’s car is parked out front, but I can’t tell if Teagan is inside or not. Dammit. I don’t want to come across as desperate by texting or calling her as he’s walking out. He’ll totally know I’m going all girly on him and trying to analyze his every move, his every breath. Of course I am going to do that, but not yet. Not when he could find out that’s what I’m doing. I’m just going to have to stew for at least an hour before I call a meeting with Teagan and get her insight.
I watch Mick walk down the sidewalk towards the car, admiring the way he moves and the way his lean frame fills out his clothes. His shoulders are broad without looking freakish. He’s smaller than his brother but oh so much sexier in my book. I totally want to see him naked after watching his butt in those jeans. My insides turn to mush as I imagine what it might be like to see him completely nude. To feel his skin on mine…
I’m completely unprepared for him to turn around and catch me gawking. He grins and waves at me, walking backwards down the sidewalk.
I scramble to grab the cord to the blinds. They fall halfway down before stopping again, and I scream with frustration as I catch him laughing at me. My face is totally on fire.
Giving up on the blinds, I stumble away and drop back down on the bed. My cell phone is in my hand a second later and I set my timer. In T-minus thirty minutes, I will be calling Teagan and figuring out what the hell my next move should be and even if I should have a next move where Mick is concerned.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I HEAR THE BUBBLY BEETLE engine outside as I’m brushing on another coat of mascara. Maybe I’ve gone too far, but what the hell. Might as well give Mick a really nice view of what he’ll be missing. I’ve already decided this is not going to work, whatever this is. Even if he was flirting with me and meaning it today, it won’t matter in the long run. I’m a party girl and that’s all I plan on being until I’m old enough that I have to stop wearing underwire bras and thong underwear.
Teagan joins me in the bathroom and whistles as she takes in my reflection. “Damn, girl.” She looks down at her black dress. “I feel like a lumberjack now compared to you.”
“Shut up. This dress is old.”
“That dress should be illegal.” She stands next to me and leans forward so her face is just a few inches from the mirror. “Can you see my zit?” Turning left and right, her eyes never leave the spot below her bottom lip.
“Yep. It’s like Saturn orbiting your chin.”
Her head whips in my direction. “Seriously? You can see it?”
I laugh hard enough to make my stomach burn. “No. But if you stare at it every time you go past a mirror it will be kind of hard to miss. Just relax. You used the green stuff first, right?”
“Yes, jedi make-up master. I did what you told me before.”
I sigh. No one appreciates all the time I’ve spent on Youtube watching makeup tutorials, not even the chicks with planetary pimples to hide. “You’re gorgeous. Go pick out my shoes, would you?”
She snorts. “Yeah right. You mean go pick out the shoes you won’t wear.”
“No, I’ll go with your choice this time, I promise.”
“Lies. All lies,” Teagan says as she leaves the bathroom.
I add a little blush to my cheeks. When Teagan is back, I glance at the first selection she brings for my approval or rejection. “Uh, no. I’m not eighty.”
“Listen, these are your shoes, woman. If they’re old lady shoes, they shouldn’t be in your closet in the first place.”
“I can’t throw shoes out. I have a condition. And besides, they’re good for interviews at banks and accounting firms.”
“Since when have you gone to one of those?”
“Never. But someday I will and then I’ll be prepared.”
“Fine.” She pulls out another pair from behind her back. “How about these?”
I bite my inner cheek, thinking about how those will make my legs look. Then I shake my head. “Nope. Not enough calf action.”
“Calf action?” She stares at the shoes, dangling them up in front of her face.
“I need something that will show my calves off. I have good calves.”
She nods. “You do have good calves. Can’t argue with that logic.” She leaves once more and I take the minutes she’s gone to make sure every single one of my eyebrow hairs is where it should be.
My eyebrows are famous. Women hate me for having eyebrows like I do. It’s a cross I bear willingly, because someday these eyebrows are going to snag me a hell of a husband. I arch one up, practicing one of my patented moves. I can communicate entire sentences with these babies.
“Okay, last choice before I retire from this lame job.” Teagan shakes a pair of Jimmy Choo knock-offs at me. “Calf busters. Thigh flexers. Butt lifters. You cannot go wrong with these suckers.”
I snag them out of her hand. “You must be high. How am I supposed to twerk it out with those on?”
Teagan rolls her eyes. “What … you’re going to start licking sledgehammers now, too? Shall I get the foam finger from your dad’s closet?”
“Maybe,” I say as I go into my room. “Do you think it’ll fit in my purse?”
She ignores the question because we both know I’d no sooner foam-finger myself than I’d twerk my ass up against a complete stranger. Twerking is for skanks, and I ain’t no skank.
I pull out Old Faithfuls, the shoes that have never failed to get me all the free drinks I’ve ever wanted. I will be a dancing fool with these bitches on. Gravity has zero effect on my butt cheeks when I wear these.
“Now these are shoes,” I say. “Learn well, my little tadpole, and someday you will be an awesome man-killer like me.”
“Whatever you say, Yoda-of-shoes.” She bounces down onto my bed. “So, you excited about seeing Mick? He’s going to be there, you know.”
Since Jersey came into my room and refused to leave before I could give her any of the scoop on Mick, she has no idea that I’m totally sweating her boyfriend’s brother. I’m not even sure I want to say anything to her about it
now. It seems silly. I’m definitely PMSing. She’d understand, but she’s already got so much shit going on, I don’t want to burden her with my stupid stuff. I decide to act like there’s nothing to talk about. Besides, there really isn’t. I’m putting a stop to it tonight. My eyebrows will end this for me; I won’t even have to say a word, and Mick will know it’s over before it even began.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing my tiny purse. “We can talk about all the fun stuff in the car.” I breeze past the family room where my parents are on the couch watching a movie. “Later, couch potaters!” I call out over my shoulder.
“Not too late!” my father calls out after me.
“Yeah, right,” I say under my breath. Curfews are for slackers. I consider any night I’m in before two in the morning to be a complete fail.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ON THE WAY TO THE club in Teagan’s car, I finally get around to asking her about her life. It should have been the first thing I talked about when she walked in my door thirty minutes ago, but I was too wrapped up in worries about what Mick would think about my outfit to think straight. I’m going to blame him for my messed up priorities.
“So, what happened at the lawyer’s office?” I ask.
“Oh, shit! I forgot to tell you!” She whacks me on the arm. “They loved your stuff! Said it was awesome.”
“Really?” I warm with the compliment. “Seriously?”
“Yes. They wanted to know what firm you worked for.”
“No shit.” My jaw won’t close.
“No shit, I swear.”
“Man, that is so cool,” I say, picturing myself with a trophy or a medal. “I’m the stuff. The shizzle stick. I should be on Oprah. Except she doesn’t have a show anymore, that wench.”
“Yes, you are, and you should. When I told them you didn’t work for a firm yet, they said when you do work for one to let them know. Also they said if you want some side work, they could give it to you and then give you a reference when you go job hunting.”