Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3) (23 page)

“I never realized it was an issue.”

“Then you need to clean your ears out or pay better attention.  I’ve repeatedly told you it wasn’t cool to help yourself to my food and utilities.  You don’t offer a cent to contribute toward the bills.”

“If you needed to borrow some money, all you had to do was ask.”

“I don’t need to
borrow
any money. 
Borrowing
money would entail paying you back.  I’m not paying you back for what you and Peter have used.”

“Point taken.  Though it’s moot since you’ve changed the locks.”

“I can’t believe you’re indignant about that.”

“We’re family.”

“I don’t have a key to your place.”  I held my hand up, halting whatever he was going to say.  “I don’t want a key to your place.  Ew.  I’ve seen your bedroom.  No thanks.”  Shoving my key into the lock, I turned the knob and kicked the door open.  Pax followed me inside.  “That wasn’t my point at all.”

“Peter told me a few weeks ago that you’d argued about it, but I never knew you felt this way.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.  This isn’t a dorm.  It’s my home.  I moved out so that I could avoid you people except for the major holidays of the year.”  Dropping my keys onto the console table, I headed into the bedroom and began rooting through my clothes for something to wear.

“Nice.”

“It’s my place.  What if I want to walk around naked after I paint my nails?”

“Why—”

“What if I have a guy over?  What if we’re having sex on the sofa or the kitchen counter?  Do you really want to walk in on that?”

Exhaling heavily, Pax shook his head, dispelling the notion.  “Why the fuck am I even here?  This is Peter’s god damn fight.”

“Because I’m not talking to Peter.”

“Paisley, you know he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Figures you would take his side.”  No surprise there.  The two were thick as thieves. Twiddle dee and Twiddle dumb.

“He got offered the chance of a lifetime,” Pax pressed.  “That’s not something you pass up.”

“Of course not.  God forbid he put my happiness before his own.”  Yanking my red tube-dress off the hanger, I dropped it onto the bed, and retrieved my matching thongs from the drawer.  “No, he does what he always does; he inserts himself into my life and overshadows everything until I’m nothing but a second thought.”

“Where are you going?” Pax asked, staring at my thong with utter disgust.  Reaching his finger into the collar of his shirt, he pulled it away from his neck, his face going red.

“Out with some girls from work.”  My tone brooked no argument.

“In that?”  God, was he stupid.

“Pax, go home.”

“I’m sorry!  You’re still my little sister!”

“They’re underwear, Pax!  What the hell!”

Pax arched his back, his teeth set on edge.  It was like something was poking him, something like a knife.  His sucked a sharp breath through his teeth.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“You didn’t used to wear shit like that before,” he argued, ignoring me.  “I know; I used to give you wedgies.  You wore normal ones.”

“Because that’s all mom bought me.  I’m not discussing my underwear with you.  Now quit being a weirdo and go home.”

“Fucking fine.”  Reaching into his jacket, he pulled something out.  Something furry.  It let a distinct and unmistakable ‘mew.’  “Take this.  I don’t even like the guy.  I don’t know why I got stuck doing his ass-kissing.”

“What is that?”

“A fucking cat.  A baby one.”  Pulling its claws gently from his shirt, he disengaged it from his body, and held it out toward me.  Its tiny legs stuck out in every direction.  It let out a louder, longer mew.

“I don’t want that!  Who gave you the thing?”

“Who do you think—Jake Whalen.”

The name hit me like a slap in the face.  I winced over the slice of pain it evoked.  “No.  Absolutely not.  Take it back.”

“This is a three-thousand-dollar cat, Paisley.  It’s from a reputable breeder.  You can’t just return them to the store like a pair of candlesticks.”

“I didn’t buy it. 
He
did.  I don’t want it.”  Pacing away, I folded my arms across my chest.  I didn’t want anything from him.  Was it some kind of consolation gift?  An apology? 
Fuck
him.

“I’m not taking it back.  That’s on you.”

“I just started a new job, Pax!  What am I supposed to do with it while I’m at work all day?  I can’t leave it here alone that long!”

“You know what?  I don’t care.  That’s your problem.”  Crouching down, he placed it on the floor.  “It’s yours now.  See you.”

“Pax!” I shouted as he walked out the door.  I quickly scooped the kitten off the carpet and chased him down the stairs.  “Pax!  Come on!”

Ignoring me, he opened the passenger side door and pulled a bag from the floor of his car.  As he crossed to the driver’s side, he dropped the bag onto the sidewalk at my feet.  “I told him I’d give you the cat, and that was it, because personally, I hope you don’t forgive him that easily.  You’re my little sister.  You should make him grovel a little.”

Jesus.  Coming from Pax, that was practically a blessing.  What the hell could Jake have said to him?  It didn’t matter.  I wasn’t a fool.

Pax climbed into his car and pulled away.  As his headlights swept across the parking lot, I caught a flash of two familiar figures standing along the row of trees.  Stupidly, I shouted, “Hey!” and gave chase, power walking toward them with fury in my stride.  The two took off into the trees, and none too quietly.  I followed the trail of snapping twigs into the next courtyard.  They were running by then, ducking around the next building.  I abandoned my pursuit when I heard Carter’s guffaw, followed by the peeling of tires.

“Idiots.”

The kitten mewed loudly, climbing up my chest, its nails impaled in my skin.  I detached it from myself and cradled it securely in my arms.  I suppose I hadn’t put forth my best first impression, because it immediately began heading for higher ground again.  It ended up tucking itself under my chin where I could feel it purring softly.

“Don’t get attached,” I warned it, as if it could understand.  “You’re not staying.”  I made my way back to my apartment, stopping to pick up the bag Pax had left along the way.

Inside, I locked the front door, and detached the kitten one more time.  Holding it at arm’s length, I took a long gander.  The thing was a ball of orange fur, flat ears, with eyes as large as saucers.  I could see myself in their mirror-like reflection.  That’s how large they were.

“Fuck.”

I was so keeping it.

“I hate you, Jake Whalen.”

Placing the kitten on the floor, I left it to explore the apartment.  He wandered under the coffee table on slightly wobbly legs.  He…I’d have to check that.

Grabbing the bag from beside the door, I set it at my feet.  Inside, I found a small litterbox, a container of litter, a bag of dry cat food and a few cans of wet.  A few small, silky mouse toys with bells inside.  Two ceramic bowls with footprints on the bottoms.  And a white envelope addressed to Paisley.

Sliding my finger under the edge, I ripped it open and pulled out a white sheet of paper.  A gift card slid out.  No amount was disclosed.  I unfolded the letter and read Jake’s tidy scrawl.

P.S.

This should cover the vet bills and what supplies you’ll need.

Love, Jake.

Love
, Jake.  Fucker.

I ripped up the letter and tossed it into the bag.

Not even an apology.

Asshole.  What a complete asshole.

Tearing open the bag of litter I poured the contents into the litter pan.  As if I called it by name, the kitten came trotting over.  He took a try or two to scale the edge of the pan.  He clearly knew what it was used for, because he squatted, sort of, and tinkled.

Unsure if I was supposed to praise him, I waited until he was finished, and gave him a scratch behind the ear.  “Good kitty.”

Looking up at me, he mewed.

Those fucking eyes killed me.  I was a slave to his whims.

Curious, I ripped the bag of food open and sprinkled a little into the bowl.  He sniffed at it, but showed little interest.  Grabbing the water bowl from the floor, I went to the sink to fill it.  When I returned, the kitten was making its way into the kitchen, following me.  I sat the bowl of water beside the food and the litter pan, in the center of my living room.  Mewing excessively, the kitten followed me back into the living room and over to the bowl of water.  It lapped at it a little, and then went back to exploring.

Standing there watching, I wondered if I was supposed to childproof—or kittenproof, in my case—the apartment.  Would it chew on the power cords?  What could it get into?  Did I have anything laying around that would cause it harm?  What was I supposed to do with the thing while I went out?  What was I supposed to do with the thing while I was at work?

A muffled chirp came from the direction of my console table.  I glanced over to find a small white box resting beside the lamp.  I crossed the room and picked it up.  It was a new cell phone.  Prying the box open, the air suctioned and made a farting sound.  I dropped the lid onto the table and lifted the phone from the base.  There was a message from Pax.  I knew because it said Pax.

The phones from me.  Don’t break it.

Swiping the screen, I pulled up the contacts list.  My parents number was already added, as well as Peter and Patrick’s.  And Cooper, Tate, Em, and Jake’s.  Tapping Pax’s name, I placed the phone to my ear.  Pax answered with a succinct, “Yeah.”

“I can get my own cell phone.”

“I did it for you.  You’re on my
family
plan.  It’s only another few dollars a month, but you know what?  Since I owe you for the utilities I use and the food I eat, I’ll cover the bill.”

“That’s so generous.”

“That’s what
family
is for.”

“You’re not getting a key to my place.”

“My gift was not meant as bribery in any way.  I’m insulted.”

Glancing down at the console, my face reddened.  “Where’re my keys, Pax?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I left them sitting on the console, right where you left the cell phone.”

“Maybe they fell on the floor.”

Doubtfully, I bent down and looked under the table.  They weren’t there.  I could feel my blood pressure rising.  “I need my keys, Pax.”

“I’m sure they’ll show up.”

I’m sure they would too.  As soon as he returned them.  Taking a deep breath, I left it out slowly.  I’d buy a new knob.  I replaced it once, I could do it again.  All I needed was a screwdriver.  In the meantime, I had a spare set.

Besides, I had bigger fish to fry.  “Speaking of family—how could you take his side?  You brought him to my house!  I saw them by the trees.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I agreed to deliver the cat.  Nothing more.  If he came here with his friends, he did it on his own.  I deny any involvement.”

“I don’t want this cat.”

“Sorry, I’m not a delivery service.  I don’t do returns.”

“I don’t know anything about cats, Pax!  What am I supposed to do with this thing?  I’m supposed to go out!  I don’t even know if I can leave it alone!”

“So stay home.”  The line went dead on the other end.

Brothers sucked.

I knew one of three things.  One: Pax was going to make a copy of my house key.  Two: wanting me to stay home had nothing to do with the cat.  Three: it had everything to do with the red dress and thong underwear.  Ok, four: Jake had Peter
and
Pax helping him.

Chapter 19
 

“
H
e gave me a
kitten
,” I wondered aloud.  I’d had a few drinks while pondering his motives.  “What the fuck is that about?”

“Is he cute?” Camilla inquired.

“Cute?  No.  Gorgeous.  I hate him.”

Camilla burst into drunken laughter.  “I meant the kitten.”

“Oh.”  I blinked away the fog of my own inebriation.  “He’s a tangerine pom-pom with button eyes.  Of course he’s cute.  I think it’s a he.  Though, I’m not positive on that.”

“I love cats,” Camilla reflected, her eyes going dreamy.

“You want it?  It’s yours.”

“Really?”

“No.  It’s a living, breathing creature.  I can’t give it away.  I just don’t understand why he would give me a responsibility like that.  I don’t want kids.  Why would I want a kitten?”

“Maybe because they’re soft and fuzzy with low responsibility.  You can leave them home for eight hours a day and not have to worry about them pooping in the house.  They’re pretty independent, actually.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?  I should guilty that I left it in my apartment all alone?”

“A million times, yes!  He’s fine!”

Staring down into my drink, I felt a pang of guilt.  “God, I’m sad.  It’s Friday night and I’m sitting here discussing a fucking cat over my beer.”

“And here we thought you were harboring some dark secrets.”  Camilla elbowed me, nearly knocking me from the stool.  She burst into another bout of laughter.

Secrets, yes, but not dark.  Maybe a little dark.  Crops and ball-gags weren’t light and casual conversation.  Sliding back onto the stool, I rested my toes along the foot rail.  When I looked up again, Camilla’s amusement had faded.

“This place isn’t exactly jumping,” she observed, perusing the scene around her.  The place wasn’t deserted, but it wasn’t the type of crowd either of us was anticipating.  It wasn’t the kind of joint that you went for a casual beer while you watched the game.  It was the kind of place you went to drown away your troubles, and either passed out or woke up on a cot in a holding cell the next morning.  “Know anywhere better to go?”

“No, my brothers will be there.”

“Brothers?”

“No, not a chance,” I said, noting the sudden interest in her tone.  “Don’t even think about it.”

“But—”

“No!” I exclaimed, insistently.  “They’d chew you up and spit you out faster than you can blink an eye.  Then we couldn’t be friends because there would always be this awkward tension between us because you did the nasty with one of my brothers.”

Frowning, Camilla dropped her eyes to her drink.  She swirled it around, spinning her glass in small circles.  Drawing some internal conclusion, she lifted it to her lips and downed the contents in one long draw.  “Let’s go.  I know a better place.”

“Where?”  Standing, I slid my arms into my jacket and lifted it over my shoulders then freed my hair from beneath the collar.

“Funk 49.”

“We’ll never get inside,” I objected, grasping at straws.  I hadn’t told her anything about Jake.  I’d told her my ex sent me a kitten.  That was the extent of the conversation.

“I wouldn’t, but you would.”  Grabbing her purse from the footrest between her feet, she slid from her stool and tucked it under her arm.  “You’re my ticket in.”

“What makes you think I can get inside?”

Camilla snorted, her eyes travelling down my frame.  “A blonde in a tight, red dress…call it intuition.”

“I can’t,” I confessed.  “My ex owns the place.”

“We can’t go here—we can’t go there,” she slurred.  “You’re being a drag, Paisley.”

“I’m being a drag?” I objected.  “At least I showed up.”

Digging through her clutch, she extracted a twenty and dropped it onto the bar.  “I didn’t expect the others to come.  They never do.”

If I would’ve known that…

“Come on!  Please!  I’ll even pay for the cab.”  She pulled another bill from her purse and waved it in my face.

“Fine, now put that away before you get mugged.”

“Thank you!” she squealed.  “You won’t regret this!”  Stumbling forward, she planted a kiss on my cheek.  I had to grab her elbows to hold her up.  Somebody in the back wolf-whistled over our awkward embrace.  I quickly pushed her away, holding onto her until she was balanced.

“I’m going to use the ladies room while you call the cab.”  I started crossing the bar, making my way to the bathroom.  The floor was sticky.  Peanut shells crunched under my heels.

The bathroom wasn’t much better.  Scraps of toilet paper covered the floor.  The once-white stalls were covered in sharpie marker and innumerous years of filth.  On the wall hung one of those crank machines with one continuous loop of cloth towel.  It’d seen better days.

Good thing I hadn’t actually come in to use the bathroom.  I’d come in to clear my head and figure out how to get out of this.  The answer was, I wasn’t.  Pax was somehow in cahoots with Peter, and Peter, for some reason, was helping Jake.  My big brothers, who’d made it their life mission to chase the boys away from their little sister, were helping Jake, who fucked me over not once, but twice.  I mean…can you see the fucking irony?

Anyhow, I had no one to call.  My brothers had traded sides.

Well fuck ‘em all.  I’d been a mess long enough.  I owed it to myself to have a good time.  Damn if I wasn’t going to have my just desserts.

Applying a fresh coat of red to my lips, I pressed them together, and stole a last glance in the mirror.  I needed a drink, a few of them to tide me over.  A little liquid courage for the car ride there.

Tugging the door to the restroom open, I held my head high as I strode through the bar.  Half way through the room, I was intercepted by a large, burly man wearing a jean jacket covered in all sorts of patches.  “Hey, sweetheart.  Hold up a minute.”  Hesitantly, I stopped and gave a weak smile.  “You’re dragging a little tp on you heel, there.”  His gaze dropped to my feet, as did mine.  I blushed furiously and detached the paper with my other foot.

“Damn it.  Fucking bathroom.”

“Could be worse.  Could be hanging out the crack of your ass.”

“That would be my luck.”  I gave a mortified smile and rushed back to the bar, my head hanging a little lower than it was a few seconds earlier.  “If that was an omen on how my night was about to go, I was in big trouble.”

Yanking my bag open, I pulled a twenty out and slapped it on the bar.  “A double shot of Jack, please.”  I slammed it down in one large gulp.  “Another.”  The second went down a little slower, exaggerating the burn of the first.

“Woot!” Camilla cheered, clapping me on the back.  “I knew you had a set of balls!  Come on, girl, we’re going to have some f.u.n.”  She spelled it out, going borderline geek on me.

Looping her arm around mine, she led me outside.  The cab was waiting by the curb.  Before she dove into the back seat, she planted another kiss on my cheek.

I was already regretting it.

Twenty minute later, we rolled to a stop outside of Funk 49.  The line wrapped the front of the building and slightly around the corner.  I climbed from the back seat stood to the side, waiting for Camilla, who was a little better off than I was, thanks to those last few shots.

Frankly, that was a little scary.  I was quickly learning Camilla was all volume and no content.  The only thing keeping me from ditching her was the prospect of finding another man so I could show Jake that I had moved on.  I wasn’t some chump that was going to cave over something small and furry.  Not after he burned me twice.  He was going to have to work a little harder before I forgave him.

If
I forgave him.

I had no intention to do any such thing.

“Look at the line.” Camilla observed, climbing out of the cab behind me.  “We’ll never get in.”

“We’ll get in,” I assured.  I just wasn’t sure how.

From a short distance away, I head a sharp whistle.  Cade Mathers lifted his arm and flicked his wrist in a smooth rendition of a wave.  With a wide smile, he strode toward us.

There
was our ticket inside.

Camilla took one look at the lumberjack and moaned low in her throat.  “Is he coming this way?  Oh Jesus Christ.  He is.”

“Hey, pet,” Cade purred in greeting.  He flashed a smile, showing a row of perfect teeth behind his well-groomed beard.   I was fairly sure there were dimples under there somewhere.

Camilla made an unintelligible noise, to which Cade paid no attention.

“Cade,” I returned.

“Going in?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me escort you, then.”  He held out his arm.  I grasped hold, admittedly appreciative for the offer.  My heels were proving to be too much to handle.  “You didn’t introduce your friend.”

“She’s a coworker,” I confessed quietly.  “I felt obligated.”

“New employee?”

“I am, actually.  The girls at the office invited me out.”

“It’s a hell of a welcoming party.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” I laughed, looking up from under my lashes.  “I figured we would pick up a few along the way.”

“Jake meeting you here?”

“Jake and I aren’t together.”

“Then you’re with me tonight.”  Cade dropped his arm and placed his hand along the small of my back.  A few seconds later, he was guiding me through door, pressing a bill into the bouncer’s hand as we passed.  I grabbed Camilla’s hand at the last second, dragging her with us.

“You know where my table is,” Cade said into my ear.  “I’ll order us some drinks.  What’re you having?”

“Jack.”

Cade looked at Camilla, who responded with a quick, “Moscow Mule.”  Seriously enthralled, she stared as he turned and made his way to the bar.  “Holy.  Fucking.  Shit.”

“Don’t even think about it, Camilla.”

“Whhhhhyyyyyy?” she pouted.

“He’s a porn star.”

“Are you—”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.  “I’m serious.  I don’t
know
him.  I was just getting us inside.”  Cade was the perfect tool for getting back at Jake.  He probably wouldn’t even care.  “In fact, you better drink your mule and circulate while you have the chance.  I don’t know how long we’ll be staying.”

“You suck.”

“I warned you, my ex owns the place.”

“Jake,” she surmised.

“Yes.”

Expecting more of an explanation, she rolled her eyes in frustration.  “Does everyone always have to pry everything out of you?”

“Yes.”

Pouting, Camilla sat back in her chair and perused the dancefloor.  A few hours into the night, everyone had had a few drinks in them, and were tearing it up.  The band was good, more pop than rock, but had the perfect blend of rhythm and funk to keep the audience moving.  Camilla and I were both dancing in our seats.

Reaching around me, Cade placed two shot glasses and a few bottles of water on the table.  After handing Camilla her drink, he pried open the bottle of Jack and poured each of us a shot.  “What’s your name, sugar?”

Camilla met his eyes.  “Camilla,” she stammered.  “Cam.”

“Cam,” Cade gestured over his left shoulder.  “This is William.”  He was totally utilizing his wingman.  I could see it in his expression.  Nonetheless, Camilla blushed and shook William’s hand.

“You look familiar.  I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she said dumbly.  I was sure she had.  His pictures were all over facebook.  They called him Wild Bill Hitchcock.  For obvious reasons.  He usually had a towel or some length of cloth hanging from said appendage.

Smoothly, William asked her to dance.  Camilla agreed, first stealing a long draft of her drink.  With a nervous smile, she headed off to the dancefloor and disappeared into the crowd.

“Drink up,” Cade said, gathering my attention.  He pushed a shot glass toward me.  “I want to see how you move on the dancefloor.”

“Oh, I’m terrible.  No soul.”  Lifting the shot glass to my mouth, I threw my head back and downed it in a quick gulp.  I held it out for a refill.

A moment later, we were on the dancefloor.  By the time Cade found a sufficient space, I was already moving to the beat.  Raptly, he circled behind me, lining his body against mine.

“Slower, pet.”  Gradually, he matched the sway of my hips until we were moving in unison like a hand in a glove.  “There—that’s fucking it.”

Raising my arms up behind my head, I looped my hands around the back of his neck.  Cade rested his hands along my ribcage, just below my breasts.  Slowly, they travelled downward until he grasped my hips and pulled my ass snugly against his groin.

“I thought you said you had no soul,” he said into my ear.  Shivers ran down my body, his beard tickling my ear and neck.

“I wouldn’t hardly consider this dancing.”

“No?  What would you call it?”  He was amused.

“Exhibitionism.”

Cade laughed.  I knew because I could feel the shaking of his chest against my back.  “Pet, I can teach you a thing or two about exhibitionism.”