Turn & Burn (3 page)

His father sued people for a living. The Kossel Law Firm handled a lot of slip and fall cases. If I argued, he’d just hammer me with statistics. Or worse, give me some boring anecdote about a boring court case.

What the fuck am I doing? And why the hell do I keep doing it here?
I dropped the shirt and snagged my jeans and slid them over my legs. “I had to put off a lot of errands until today because I was working.”

“Oh, yeah. I know all about you working.”

Well, fuck you, rich boy. I have more pride than to ask my daddy for an allowance.
Sometimes, I hated the kids I knew from college. They were mostly a bunch of spoiled brats.

I had to stand to reach my sweatshirt. He sat up. I tensed for an argument. “Listen, Shelby. Dad wants to meet you.”

My heart lurched.
Meet the family? Really?

“Don’t know what Mom’s got planned. This is the first Christmas in three years they haven’t gone on a cruise. She’s probably planned out every available minute, since they’re in the new house.” I scanned the room. “Seen my purse?”

“Beside the couch.”

I almost laughed. He wanted me to stay, but couldn’t resist showing off that he knew something I didn’t, no matter how minor.

I fastened my jeans and then yanked my sweatshirt over my head. Flopping onto the couch, I shoved my foot into the only shoe I could see. Craning my neck, I searched for the mate underneath the coffee table he used to roll joints.

What’s so painful about his life that he wants to be numb all the time?

“I thought we might get our parents together for dinner. How about on the 26
^th
?”

Spying the little ballerina flat, I stretched my leg and hooked it with my toes. “Why? So your dad can make fun of the way my stepfather talks?” Wiggling my foot into the worn leather shoe, I leaned over the arm of the plaid couch that stank of marijuana, grabbing my handbag with a rising sense of panic.

“Shelby, they’re going to meet eventually. We might as well be proactive. Besides, if we don’t find a time to hook up while you’re in Concord, we won’t see each other until after New Years’.”

And that’s a problem... why?

“This is about that stupid You Tube channel you do, isn’t it?” Petulance tinged his tone.

You mean the stupid You Tube channel that puts cash in my checking account so I have time to spend with you?

“No, I told you what I was doing today.” I curled my nails into my palm. I didn’t have time for his jealous bullshit. He could be such a child if he didn’t get his way.

Something onscreen came to my rescue. “Hey, that car’s like mine.” I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, drowning out Robert’s groan. He hated my car. He hated my hobbies. I couldn’t figure out what he did like about me. Except the sex. I hated thinking that he was with me because my petite size made him feel better about his less-than-average cock, because that was another drop of poison Colt had buried in my mind.

In a too-bright voice, the female news anchor announced, “And a record-setting price last night for an old car.”

The male anchor took over in a tone I found patronizing. “Not just any old car, Anne. A 1971 Plymouth Barracuda convertible. One of only eleven manufactured that year, this fully restored beauty brought four point two million dollars at the famous Bailey and Barnes auction barn in Reno, Nevada last night. The new owner says he’ll have the car transported to—”

“Wow.” I hit the mute button. “Four million dollars?” I darted a look to see if the large figure impressed Robert. He hadn’t bothered with the sheet, maybe because it was in a tangled heap on the floor. He still scowled, so I studied his body. His cock was erect, but going soft. It nestled in a thatch of dark gold hair. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t ripped like my stepbrothers.

The involuntary comparison pissed me off. Besides, I hadn’t laid eyes on Colt in years. He probably had a beer gut and a baby on the way.

I blinked away the momentary vision of Caine pleasuring Colt’s faceless bimbo.
Damn you, Mom.
She’d been on the phone every other day, excited over all the stuff she was buying for the new house. Had to be why I couldn’t stop thinking about Colt and Caine.

Then, the fog in my brain parted.

The Ridenhour Christmas party’s tonight.

“Shelby.”

I longed to run, but Robert’s tone forced me to look at him.

“What, Robert? What?” Despite my best efforts to stay calm, the words came out as a shriek. In the ominous silence that followed my outburst, I jumped up.

“Shelby, you could at least take me along to that party tonight. I checked Google maps. That place is only a half hour drive from my dad’s.”

So you can ridicule my stepfather and his friends at your next frat party? Or so I can be drawn in an even bigger knot, waiting to see how Colt and Caine tease me about you? Or, God forbid, they mess with that BMW you love so much.

I pictured my stepbrothers taking the car apart and reassembling it on top of the building, because that seemed like their idea of a good time.

“I had to RSVP weeks ago. Besides, I’m only going to be there long enough to give a five-minute speech and watch Dale get his twenty-five-year service award.”
Not interested in hanging around to watch Redneck Nation celebrate Christmas.

Colt and Caine had bought Dale’s house, but I’d be staying with Mom and Dale in the new house. That arrangement had led me to agree to stay in Concord from tonight until Christmas Day. Three entire days, when I hadn’t set foot in the small town for four years.

“Then I really don’t understand why you can’t meet me, Dad, and his girlfriend for dinner somewhere in Charlotte as soon as you finish.”

Because I have enough to worry about, dammit.

Why would Robert want to go to a party with a bunch of NASCAR people? He couldn’t even drive a stick.

“I told you, Mom will cry if I don’t go straight home with them afterward. Maybe we can do something before New Years’. I’m coming back here Christmas Day, but I’ll drive up to Rock Hill to meet you between then and New Years’ Eve.”

“You’ll just turn around and either say you can’t afford the gas or you’re working.” His tone was flat. Tension coiled in my stomach.

Fuck it. We’ve done our quarter mile sprint. The only way I can win is to walk away.

“Not all of us have rich daddies. Tell you what. Maybe I can hook you and my roommate up. I know for a fact, she’s looking for a future lawyer or banker. She only came here to get her MRS. degree.” The term was sarcastic, but he knew what I meant. A shocking number of women I went to school with were only attending college to find a husband with ‘potential’.

Hitching the leather strap of my purse over my head, I stepped over discarded clothing and empty pizza boxes.

“Shelby.” I made it to the door, but stared at the birch plywood, sliding damp palms along the side of my pants.

“What?” My headache tripled. I dug to the bottom of my handbag, searching for my car keys.

“Do you remember me telling you last night that I got an early acceptance to law school?”

That explains the hangover.
“Vaguely.”

He snorted. His feet hit the floor, sounding like gunshots on the hard tile. I tensed as he made his way across the room. Reaching past my shoulder, he slammed a hand against the door.

“Why do I let you drink tequila? It’s too damn strong for your body weight or something. Makes you weird. I want you to take another look at this. It’ll take one minute out of your busy day.” His sarcastic tone made me cringe. A dull throb flared at the base of my skull, adding a thumping bass line to the soprano aria of pain shrieking behind my eyeballs.

He shoved a crumpled piece of printer paper in front of my face. I pulled back to give my eyes room to focus. “Assistant to the Administrator, Department of Public Works.” I dragged my tongue across cracked lips. “What’s this?”

“A job. In Columbia. With great benefits.”

South Carolina’s only law school was in Columbia, the state capitol.

“You plan to work and go to law school?” Maybe I’d misjudged him.

“Not for me, dumbass. For you.” Exasperation dripped from his tone. I was the dumbass? Yes, he must think so, if he thought I’d be thrilled to take some job logging potholes and broken water mains while he studied law. Why was I supposed to settle for a mind-numbing job while he—

The cobwebs cleared. Snatches of the night before played in my mind. Robert, telling me about law school. Me, saying essentially, good-bye. Him telling me about the idiotic job he thought I should take so we could stay together, when I had no idea why we were together in the first place. Our modus operandi was to break up, and then have makeup sex, only to break up again.

“I don’t know anything about the Department of Public Works.” Except that, it sounded like a good place to go insane from boredom.

He nuzzled my neck. I stiffened. “We already had this talk. That’s the great thing about a liberal arts degree. You can do anything. All you have to do is contact this dude and send him your resume. This is a done deal. The director is one of my brother-in-law’s golfing buddies. So, if you take the job, you can move in with my sister for the summer. Then, we’ll get an apartment together in September.”

So, it was a done deal, was it? He’d just used his family connections to find me some half-assed job? A place I could kill time and draw a paycheck while I waited for him to get his law degree and make me a country club wife? Or did he think I’d handle all the bills while he blew his allowance on dope?

He didn’t know me at all. He couldn’t fucking see past the fact that I liked my sex rough. He’d never treated a woman that way before, so I made him feel like a man. Whenever I pissed him off enough to
be
rough with me.

Which is why we argue so much.
How had I never seen that before?

I felt ugly. Not just because of my messy hair or the need to brush my teeth. I felt ugly on the inside, because of the needs—the twisted, perverted desires—Colt and Caine had instilled in me. How could I ever rid myself of that? How would embarrassing my stepbrothers, or even having them thrown in jail, fix
me
?

“No. Hang on, dammit.” He spun snatching his boxers off the floor. While he shoved his legs through the holes and yanked them over his hips, I wrenched the doorknob.

“Gotta go.”

“Shelby, just give me one minute, then turn around.”

I wanted to run, but knew if I did, I’d throw up, so I did as he asked. Judging from the noises he made, I thought he opened a drawer. Maybe getting a shirt? I suppressed a sigh. He might be trying to apologize by walking me to my car. That possibility only made me feel worse. I owed him the apology, or at least an explanation. How would that go
? See, I need you to invite your friends in to fuck me. The more the merrier. Just a little gang bang every now and then.

“Okay, turn around.”

I whirled—too fast. I had to blink several times for the room to stop spinning.

“What are you doing?” I gaped at the sight of Robert on his knees, wearing only his boxers. He held a small box on his palm.

“Shelby, I knew I loved you on our second date. I don’t want graduation to come between what we have. I’ve never met anyone like you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

I
stared into Robert’s baby blues, but in my head, I imagined Colt’s cobalt eyes narrowed in jealousy while I showed off the engagement ring tonight.

Yeah, right.

And will I show off Robert, too?

Assuming I do that, how long until someone from Concord tells him or his big shot daddy that my stepbrothers whored me out when I was in high school?

Not happening.

No matter how I felt about the guy on his knees, the moment should’ve been between Robert and me. He might not be the man I thought I deserved, but he’d put his heart out there. That entitled him to more consideration than I could give this momentous question. Thanks to my fucking stepbrothers.

Way to go, guys. Every relationship I’ve ever had since I laid eyes on you two is fucked up.

I dropped my gaze to the box, mostly because I couldn’t take looking at Robert’s face one more second. The emerald-cut was modest, perhaps a third of a carat, and set in a plain platinum, four-prong mounting.

Just like the one Dale bought Mom. Maybe they’re the prize in some cereal box?

“Get up,” I choked. “Get up right now.”

“Shelby, I—”

“Stop it! Just stop it. You don’t want to marry me. You don’t know me!” I wrenched the doorknob that was still in my hand. Because running was what I did best, I always had an exit strategy.

“Shelby—”

“If you say my name one more time, I’ll scream. We don’t belong together, Robert. Jesus, you never do anything but complain about my choices, and you know what? I’ve made some bad ones. Go find a nice girl who’ll fit into your country club future.”

I raced out of the apartment. Sunlight stabbed my eyes, but if I’d left my sunglasses, I wasn’t going back. Ever.

I didn’t want to think about my latest relationship failure, or the upcoming party, so my thoughts returned to the news clip.
Four million dollars.
I doubted my—my stepfather’s—‘Cuda would sell for so much, but then again, the Hannahs could probably do any needed restoration to put the car in showroom condition.