She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2 (9 page)

“Hi, honey,” her father said. “How’s my best girl?”

As she’d been sitting on a bench in the Big Iron Fitness locker room, staring dreamily into space instead of putting on her sandals, Carlie sat up straight, cheeks burning. “I’m…good.”

Which she was, but she’d been imagining being very, very bad. Since thinking about being bad with Jake made her feel very, very good, she was going with her mood, not her intentions.

“Great,” George said. “Got time to have lunch with your old man this week?”

“Sure. What day’s best for you?”

“How about tomorrow? Meet you at that Mexican place on Pacific?”

“Dad, are you sure you have time to drive clear out to Forest Grove?” Although her workplace was in Forest Grove, from his office in Beaverton, this would not be a quick journey. Portland-area business people loved to lunch, and as they all hopped in their cars to do so, the highways connecting all the small towns melded into the metro area were crowded. Of course, since Portland was bursting with great restaurants, who could blame them? Carlie had been to La Fortuna before, and it was excellent.

“Business call out that way in the morning. Should be done by noon.”

“Great. I’ll get us a table.”

She’d go in early and get some extra work done, then not feel guilty if she took over an hour for lunch. She didn’t do this often, so no one would say anything except Monica, the receptionist and office bitch. But since Carlie had given up on being friends with Monica after approximately one week of acquaintance, this would not bother her.

“Table for three,” her father said. “Seth is joining us.”

“Oh.” Foreboding jolted her out of her good mood. Although her father always managed to set up a lunch or other time with her after her mother had knocked her down emotionally, these times were just for the two of them. While she loved her brother, she had an uneasy feeling about his presence at this lunch.

“We need Seth in on this one, sweetheart,” George Milton said, his tone firm.

“Okay. Table for three. See you.”

She put away her phone with a frown. Families—yeesh. Maybe she should move to Seattle…or farther. But, unless she did that before noon tomorrow, she couldn’t very well get out of the lunch without being a total bitch.

She’d just have to hope that whatever Seth had to say wasn’t all about how Tiffany was stressed with the wedding plans, and could Carlie just suck it up, smile and agree with whatever Tiffany asked. For a guy who was not afraid to speak his mind with his family and apparently his colleagues, Seth spent a lot of time saying,
Okay, honey, whatever you want
to his fiancée. Being in love had turned him into a total sap. Carlie sometimes wanted to check to see if Tiffany was slipping Valium into his vitamins.

Seth had graduated from U of O with a degree in business and accounting. He worked for Stark Bros., a firm in downtown Portland that handled the accounting for other businesses. Not an accountant, per se, he managed other accountants.

He was handsome, personable and ambitious, so Carlie figured in twenty years, he would own his own firm or have taken over Stark Bros. Heck, with Tiffany behind him poking her manicured nail in his back, he’d probably do it in ten.

Which was cool, because Carlie wanted her brother to be happy, and she wanted him to stay in Portland. For Seth, she’d get along with Tiffany, no matter how difficult that might be, and someday she’d have nephews and nieces to spoil rotten, buying them those annoying toys that made loud noises and had tons of teensy parts that got into carpets and thus vacuum cleaners. That was something to look forward to.

Carlie reached La Fortuna a little early, and was escorted by a smiling teen with dark eyes and hair in a heavily embroidered Mexican dress, to a table by the windows. Carlie sat, smoothing a hand over her white dressy capris and belted, raglan-sleeve gauze top, navy with white polka dots and squiggly lines. She wore navy ankle-strap sandals and a navy headband held back her hair. Her jewelry was simple, her chunky silver bangle watch and silver heart pendant on a long, heavy silver chain, with oversize silver hoop earrings.

For a while, she entertained herself watching traffic zip by on the busy Pacific Highway, then watching for her father’s silver Lexus and Seth’s black Toyota SUV. Finally her attention wandered to the other people being seated amongst the sombreros, pottery and potted cacti.

She played with a strand of hair, winding it around her finger as she watched a tall, auburn-haired woman in a no-nonsense business pantsuit stride across the restaurant, followed by two men also in business suits. The woman’s eyes met Carlie’s, and Carlie froze. Holy cow, the businesswoman was Twila, the fem domme from Club 3.

Without so much as a twitch of recognition on her perfectly made-up face, the other woman walked past Carlie, the men following.

Carlie let out her breath on a whoosh and picked up her water glass to take a long drink of ice water. Okay, Twila didn’t “recognize” her, so she would not show by so much as an eyelash flicker that she knew Twila. Especially that last time she’d seen the woman, when she’d been wearing pink chaps and a teeny bikini, and wielding a flogger on her lesbian lover.

Her face turned to the windows, Carlie pressed her fingers to her lips to quiet her irrepressible giggle. The two men had followed the domme through the restaurant like well-trained submissives. Evidently, Twila was also in charge outside the club.

Hmm. Kind of like Jake. Carlie had seen him interact with his gym employees, both men and women, and although he did not smile a lot, their body language and the way they hung on his words said they respected him and wanted to please him.

On her last visit to the gym, she’d watched from the upper balcony as he spoke with one of the young women who worked the front desk, who had clearly been upset to the point of tears. Jake had listened intently. He’d said a few words, and Carlie watched with fascination as the girl nodded and calmed immediately. She smiled shakily and trotted back to the desk while Jake went on his way.

Carlie did not want to work for him, but she wouldn’t mind passing on her sexual hangups to him, letting him take over so she could be worry free. She pictured him telling her exactly what to do in bed, and a happy shiver ran through her body.

This lasted until she turned back to the restaurant to see her brother striding through the diner toward her, their father close behind. Carlie sat up straight, searching Seth’s face for clues of why he was here.

Seth was clearly their father’s son, with his broad shoulders and sandy hair, and his brown eyes. But he was also twenty-some years younger, in fit condition thanks to regular workouts and rugby matches on weekends, and wore his thick hair very short and spiked up a little in front, flattering for his square face. Today he wore a well-cut gray business suit, although the jacket was over his arm, and the sleeves of his gray and white striped shirt were rolled up, his orange patterned tie loose around his neck.

Their father wore navy slacks and an untucked shirt of the style Seth referred to as old-guy Hawaiian, with a navy and beige pattern in the cloth. Such jibes rolled off George’s back like water. He was comfortable, dressed up as much as he needed to be for his business, and that was enough for him.

Carlie gave them a little wave, then tipped up her face for a kiss on her cheek from first Seth and then her father, who added a hug before sitting beside her. Seth chose the chair across from her and rested his forearms on the table.

“Well, this is nice,” their father said, looking back and forth between them. “Lunch with my kids.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Carlie said, smiling at him.

Seth nodded, but he was watching Carlie. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shook his head, one corner of his mouth turning up. She was familiar with that look, having received it many times from her younger brother. It meant anything from
can’t believe you just said that
to
you’re a girl, you’re weird and I’ll never understand you
. Herself, she preferred an all-purpose sisterly eye roll.

The waitress brought ice water and menus, which the three of them ignored.

“I’ll have the taco salad with a side of guacamole, please,” Carlie said. “Iced tea.”

“Same, with a side of quesadilla,” Seth said.

“Chicken enchilada,” George added.

The waitress nodded. “I will bring you chips and our special salsa while you wait.”

As soon as she walked away, Seth tapped his fingertips on the table. “So, Car, what’s going on with you, Mom and Tiff? Something about the wedding?”

Startled by his direct approach, Carlie blinked. “Um…”

George patted her arm. “I told Seth there’s a problem.”

“Daddy,” she muttered, her cheeks burning. She really wished he hadn’t said anything.

Her father shook his head. “Honey, this needs to be dealt with. You can smooth some things over, ignore some, but others swell until they finally blow up in your face.” The line between his brows said he’d weathered plenty of explosions. Knowing her mother, Carlie could believe it.

“Dad’s right, Car,” Seth said, his voice definite. But then Seth was always definite. She gazed at her brother with mingled affection and resentment. Why couldn’t she have been born with the of-course-I’m-right gene? It had gone from Paula straight to her son, bypassing her daughter entirely. “I want to enjoy my wedding. Don’t want some family feud behind the scenes. I’ll talk to Tiff, but I want to hear your side of it first.”

“Ohh,” Carlie groaned, fidgeting in her chair. “I don’t want to start some big, messy thing, you know? I can just forget this.” She actually could not, but she hated confrontation so much she was willing to try.

Seth gave her a look. “Want you and Tiff to get along,” he said. “I love her, so I’m gonna end up taking her side in a showdown. I’m aware she’s not perfect. Although she’s a lot closer than you, brat.”

Carlie curled her lip at him, going along with the joke. “Back at you, brother.”

The waitress arrived again with their iced tea, followed by a young waiter with a basket of warm, fragrant tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa.

“Thanks.” Seth held up two fingers. “Two more bowls of salsa please.”

The Miltons loved their salsa. After scooping up a large bite on a chip, Carlie slid it into her mouth and chewed with relish. Perfect, fresh and spicy, contrasting with the crunchy chip.

Her father and brother followed suit. Good, maybe they could just eat and not talk.

Then Seth raised his brows at her in impatient inquiry.

“You’re sure we can’t just drop this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

She sighed, fiddling with another chip. “Okay.”

She related her mother’s words about the bridesmaid gown. By the time she finished, Seth was pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, his eyes closed.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Can’t believe this shit.”

Carlie took a drink of iced tea to quell the hot lump in her throat. Her father, who had listened without interjecting, sipping his ice water and watching the traffic outside, patted her arm again.

“I’ll talk to Tiffany,” Seth said. “I’m sorry about this, Car. You know we wanted you in the wedding, but Tiffany has been tight with her four girls since grade school, and then her mother foisted that whack job of a cousin on her. I would’ve had to invite Deron Howe to be a groomsman to make up the numbers, or someone from my office.”

“I know,” Carlie said. “I’m the one who told you not to, remember? It’s okay, really. I just…don’t want to feel like I’m last night’s leftovers.”

“I know. Should’ve just put you on my side of the aisle,” he muttered.

Carlie and her father laughed at this.

“Here’s lunch,” George said. “How about we table this and enjoy a meal together?”

Carlie and Seth both nodded obediently, then exchanged a wry smile. One that meant
come what may, they were family
. Or so Carlie chose to interpret it. Whatever, she was definitely ready to be done with uncomfortable conversations.

Their food delivered, they ate, chatted about their respective jobs, how the Mariners were doing this season—not well—and about the work being done on the house Seth was buying in Orenco Station, a trendy neighborhood in Hillsboro built around a stop on the MAX light rail system.

Carlie would not mind living there, as it had shops, homes, apartments around a big park, with plenty of walking and bicycle trails. But since that pretty much summed up many areas in Portland metro, she couldn’t see paying the premium home prices in Orenco. Daisy, who worked in a realty office and was studying to become a Realtor herself, assured her the area would hold its value, so Carlie was glad for Seth, but still. She kind of liked older homes herself. They had character and a story to tell.

“Tiff wants the house perfect before we move in,” Seth said.

Carlie, on the other hand, could picture herself working alongside her husband, laughing and talking as they painted a house and worked in the yard, fixing it up together. Then her cheeks burned as she realized her hypothetical husband had assumed a face and form—Jake’s.

“I gotta run,” Seth said, checking his watch and then setting his napkin on his empty plate. “You two have a good week. Carlie, I’ll call you. Dad, take it easy. Tell Mom I said hi.”