Sidelined (30 page)

“Shit,” she breathes when I stand.

“Morning,” I rasp, pulling her against me and under the spray of water. “You’re dirty this morning.”

“Surprise.” She grins, looking up at me to avoid the water.

I laugh and pull her face toward mine. “Not really, baby.”

“Eh,” she mutters, shrugging and reaching to the side for some shampoo. She rubs the clear gel through her hair until it foams then pushes me aside so she can rinse. And I’m not going to lie, my eyes are firmly on her tits because they bob like fuck as she does.

Macey looks at me, a smirk on her lips as she steps forward to run conditioner through it. Then, without moving back, she grabs the body wash and rubs it between her palms. And she makes me fucking watch as she rubs her hands all over her body, from her arms to her legs and her tits and ass and pussy.

I stare at her as the smirk switches to a grin and she steps back under the water. This time, I join her and touch every inch of her with my hands.

“Just makin’ sure all the soap is gone,” I whisper.

“Suuuuuuure,” she replies, amusement evident in her tone. “By the way, handsome,” she says, curling her arms up and around my neck, “there’s bacon in my fridge and real coffee in my cabinets. Interested?”

I turn her toward the door and slap her ass. “Get to it, woman.”

She looks back at me, her smile one of pure happiness, something that’s reflected in her eyes, and grabs a towel from the rack.

I
put the bacon sandwich down on the table just as Jack emerges from my room, his hair still wet from the shower. Wordlessly, I spin to hand him his coffee.

He grins as he drops into the seat by the sandwich. “I’m surprised you could cook bacon.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’ve never seen you cook a thing. Ever.”

“I can cook!” I say indignantly, glaring at him. “I can make pasta”—
most of the time, anyway
—“and I can make my mom’s chicken and potato pie, and…and…”

“And?” Jack raises his eyebrows.

“I can do fries and order takeout?”

“Ordering takeout isn’t cooking.”

“It is, kind of.” I shrug and sit opposite him.

He stops, sandwich half eaten, and stares at me. “How is it even remotely like cooking?”

“Ummm…”

“Exactly.”

“I’m keeping people in their jobs, okay?” I mutter, fighting laughter. “Besides, I can’t be smart and good in bed
and
a culinary goddess. Do you know how much pressure that is on a girl?”

“Right—and if you add in sexy as fuck, then the cooking skills definitely have to take a back seat.”

I meet his eyes. “Right. Exactly that.”

“And we all know how important beauty and brains are.”

“You forgot bedroom skills.”

“Ah.” Jack’s eyes glitter. “Beauty, brains, bedroom skills, bacon. That’s all men care about.”

“Precisely!” I laugh, putting my plate in the sink and grabbing my coffee. “I have all four, which means I’m basically perfection.”

“Intimidating,” he murmurs, coming close to me. “Especially knowing you’re working on your second degree.”

“Yeah. About that.” I screw up my face. “I dropped out.”

Jack leans back. “You did what?”

I sigh and set my mug down. “When I was doing my last year of forensic science, I thought I hated it. So I signed up for law. But, like, two months in and I want to gouge my intestines out with the end of a rusty fork and I realized that I do really love forensic science. So I’m taking this year off of school, and then, next year, I’m going to do my master’s.”

“When did you decide that?”

“Few days ago. I’m going to search for a job in forensic science, too, because I really fucking hate retail. People are assholes.”

Jack laughs. “No arguing with that, baby.” He kisses me quickly. “Forensic scientists are the people who go to, like, murder scenes and stuff, right?”

“Right—but there’s a whole bunch of different jobs. I could do that, or I could be the guy in the lab who analyzes it, or I could do stuff with DNA…” I shrug. “I don’t know which I want to do yet. Luckily, for most of them, you only need the same degree, so my options are pretty open. I’m not sure I could deal with a murder scene though, so I’m leaning toward lab work.”

Jack frowns. “Wow. You really are smart.”

My lips tug up. “Surprising, huh?”

“Just a little.”

“Not all hot girls are ditzy.”

“Just most.”

“Maybe the kind of girls
you
associate with.” I tap his nose and slip past him.

“Baby, the only girl I’ve associated with since Corey’s birthday is you.” He grabs me and pulls me back. “Leah doesn’t count because I’m not sleeping with her.”

“Good to know.” I swallow the bubble of laughter, my fingers smoothing across the solid packs of muscle on his stomach. “Can I go and get dressed? I’m not wearing anything under this robe.”

“You tryna tempt me?”

“Normally, yes. But now? No. My brother will be here any minute, so you should probably put on a shirt.” Apparently, crime doesn’t adhere to a scheduled brother-sister chat, so Cal rescheduled for this morning. When I actually intended to be alone.

“What’s Cal coming over for?”

I swallow and pull my underwear from the drawer. I don’t want to bring this up again. I don’t want to tar the normality of right now with the elephant in the room.

“Ah,” Jack says. “I probably shouldn’t be here, then, huh?”

“It might not be a good idea,” I reply softly.

“All right.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, turning. “That it keeps coming up.”

Jack shakes his head. “Ain’t your fault, babe. You didn’t ask him to come back. You aren’t the only one with shit in your head you need to figure out. ‘Cept I just need you to sort yours before I know whether or not it’s worth bustin’ my ass to sort mine.”

“It is anyway.” I rest my hand on his chest and look up at him. “If not for me, for someone else.”

“Get it.” He curls his hand around the back of my neck. “There isn’t anyone else. Ain’t gonna be. More-ish, baby.”

I run the backs of my fingers down his jaw then push onto my tiptoes to kiss him lightly. More-ish. Yeah. I get more-ish. When I’m with him, there’s nothing but him, but the second he leaves, the rest of the world creeps back in, and I have no idea how more-ish our relationship really has become.

There’s a knock at my door, and Jack releases me to grab his shirt. I wait until he’s tugged it over his head and is in the main room, grabbing his sneakers, before I open the door for my brother.

I look at his plain clothes. “Aren’t you working today?”

Cal shakes his head. “Day off. Theoretically. Depends if someone decides to brandish another knife and run down Hollywood Boulevard like a fucking idiot again.”

“Ouch,” I mutter, shutting the door behind him. “Anyone get hurt?”

“Only him. We had to Taser the dickhead, and he hit the ground with one helluva damn thunk, so he’s probably got himself some kind of concussion to go along with his impending bail charge.” Cal grins. “Hey, Jack.”

“Hey.” Jack nods and smiles then looks at me. “All right. I’m gonna go and let you two do your thing.” He hooks his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in for a soft kiss. “I’ll pick you up at four thirty.”

“You will?” I frown as he opens the door.

“Yeah. We’re having dinner at my mom’s.”

“We are?!”

“See ya.” He winks and darts through the door.

I purse my lips. “Nothin’ like being asked,” I grumble. “You want coffee?”

“Is it real coffee or that instant shit?”

I sigh. Jesus. Men and their fucking coffee. “Real.”

“Then yes.” He chuckles and throws himself onto my sofa. “Everythin’ all right with the apartment?”

“Yes, Mr. Landlord. Everything is fine.”

Having a brother who is six years older than you with a steady and stable job sure is helpful when it comes to needing a place to live. This apartment was his first home, but when I started college, he’d saved up enough to put a deposit on a small house just outside L.A., and instead of selling the apartment, he offered it to me. My rent is equal to the mortgage, but I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion he actually charges me a little less and pays it himself.

That said, he’s never mentioned it, so I don’t, either. But I think he knows that I know.

“Good. Thanks.” He takes the mug, and I sit on the other sofa. “So. Jack’s here.”

“Yes…”

“Wanna explain what happened Friday night?”

“Jack told me to do it,” I say quickly. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to, but I did because I’d promised him I would. So I did. And it didn’t go too well.” I explain to him how Mitch seemed to assume that he had some kind of control over my relationships.

“Now I get why you looked like you wanted to murder somebody. Which, by the way, I’d have to arrest you for.”

“Ha, ha.” I poke my tongue out. “But when we got back here, he…kissed me.”

“He kissed you?” His eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah. Like…kissed me.”

“And?”

“And I’m a horrible person and borderline slut?” I ask lamely, hugging a cushion.

“Are you sleeping with both of them? Because it’s pretty fucking obvious what kind of relationship you and Jack have.”

Some part of me truly believes I shouldn’t be talking about my sex life with my brother. “No.”

“Just Jack?”

“Can we move on? I’m cringing here.”

“Okay. Then, no, you’re not a borderline slut. Bitch, yes. But not a slut.”

“Well, that makes me feel so much better. Thank you so much, bro. Really. I’m flying on cloud nine.” I sigh.

“You asked, Mace.” He shrugs. “I don’t know why you don’t just tell Mitch to fuck off and do whatever it is you’re doing with Jack. Shit, sis. He’s come home for dinner. You’re apparently going to his mom’s for dinner tonight. You clearly don’t enjoy being around Mitch, so why are you dragging out the inevitable?”

“Because I’m afraid, Cal. I’m afraid that I’ll make the wrong decision, and I guess I need closure with Mitch. I never got that. And honestly, what kind of guy tells a girl he wants her but she should see her ex for a bit?”

Cal frowns. “What?”

I recount mine conversation with Jack. “See? It makes no sense. And when Mitch turned up last night, I really thought Jack would leave, but he didn’t. They fought instead.”

A smirk curves on Cal’s lips. “You have no idea, do you, Mace?”

“No idea about what?”

“Why Jack said that.”

“He doesn’t care as much as he says he does,” I answer. Isn’t it obvious?

Cal laughs. “Yeah. That’s it, sis. He’s gonna let you essentially do whatever you want with your ex because he doesn’t care. No. News flash, Macey. He let you go because he cares enough about what you want to deal with not knowing what’s happening in your mind when you’re with Mitch. He let you go because he knows what it is to respect someone and their decisions. When you respect someone, you let them have whatever space they need to make their decisions, even if it kills you a little.”