While We Waited (The Reed Brothers #8) Page 5

  He stops swaying to the rhythm of the band. “I was an easy fuck?” His voice pitches on the end of his comment, and people turn to look at us.

  It really wasn’t that easy, because I had to pretend I liked him while I taught him how to navigate the nether-regions. I don’t think he knew what a clit was before that night. “You’re welcome,” I say flippantly.

  He steps back and snorts out a crazy sound. It’s not a laugh, and it reminds me of a camel I petted once at the zoo. If he spits at me too…

  “Seriously?” he says, his voice getting louder. “You used me?”

  “You’re welcome?” I say again, but this time I end it in a question.

  Hey, I know some guys are happy to get to bag a Zero. This guy apparently is looking for more than one night with the band’s bass guitarist.

  “You’re pretty fucked up. You know that?”

  Tell me something I don’t know. I grin at him. “Thanks.” I like my fucked-up life. I don’t particularly need for him to like it too.

  “Everything okay?” a deep voice asks from over my shoulder.

  I turn and find Tag standing behind me. He must have been dancing with Lark because she’s fidgeting right beside him.

  “You okay, Finny?” Lark asks.

  “How does it feel knowing what a whore she is?” the guy bites out. He smirks. “Or are you just next in line?” he asks Tag.

  Tag stiffens, and I think he’s going to question me about this guy. But he doesn’t. All of his attention is on the douchebag. “Have a little respect, man,” he says quietly. I watch his hands as he flexes them, balling and releasing his fists.

  “Fuck respect,” the douchebag snaps.

  Tag adjusts his suit coat. “I’d appreciate it if you’d watch your language. There’s no need for profanity.”

  “Fuck your prof–” He stops talking. Mainly because Tag just punched him on the jaw. His head snaps back and he flinches. It happened so fast that I didn’t even see it. I just see his reaction.

  “I said watch your language around the ladies.” Tag scratches the stubble on his chin.

  “Lady? Lady my a–” Again his head snaps back. This time he starts to bleed, his nose dripping blood down over his lips.

  Tag reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief and jams it under the man’s nose. “You need some help finding the exit?” he asks quietly, leaning toward him.

  The douche shakes his head. “No,” he mumbles, but it’s nasally.

  “You should apologize to the lady,” Tag says. He steps back so the guy can face me.

  I hold up my hands to wave the apology off. “That’s really not necess–”

  “Yes, it is,” Tag bites out. He lifts a brow in the man’s direction.

  “Sorry,” the man murmurs around his handkerchief.

  “Sorry for…” Tag waits with an expectant look.

  He looks up at Tag with a question in his gaze. He has no idea what he’s supposed to be sorry for.

  Tag rolls his hand in the air. “Sorry for offending the lady…” He waits expectantly.

  “I’m sorry I offended you.”

  Tag smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Have a good night,” he says.

  The man walks away. I see the Reeds meet him at the edge of the dance floor to escort him to the exit. Now I remember how they know him. He’s a client of theirs. Oops.

  I look up and realize that everyone on the dance floor is watching us. The band starts to play again. Tag holds a hand out to me. “Do me the honor?” he says.

  “Close your mouth,” Lark whispers fiercely. I clamp my jaw shut. She puts a hand in the center of my back and pushes me toward Tag. I stumble into him and he puts a hand on my hip. He takes my other hand in his and starts to lead me in a dance. Lark goes willingly with someone else to dance.

  He bends down to look into my eyes. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Aside from the fact that I can’t breathe. The only man who has ever taken up for me like that is Emilio, my adoptive father. He would go to the ends of the earth, but he’s the only man who ever has. “Why did you do that?” I ask.

  “Do what?” He looks down at me. It’s odd, how much of his attention I have. Almost disconcerting.

  “Why did you hit him?”

  His broad shoulders shift in a tiny shrug. “He was being rude.”

  “Because he called me a whore?”

  He winces and I know I struck a nerve. “His language was inappropriate. I just helped him realize it.”

  “So someone referring to me as a whore offends you?” I bite back my grin when I see him flinch again.

  “It wasn’t necessary to get his point across.” He spins me away from him and then brings me back to him. The man has some serious moves, that’s for sure.

  “Oh.”

  “You’re better than that,” he says quietly. “Don’t let people speak to you like you’re less than you are.”

  My heart skips. I wasn’t enough, apparently, to make him stick around. “What?”

  “You’re valuable. Worthy. Loveable. Everyone is valuable. Worthy of respect.”

  I snort. I so do not want to be loveable. I love my family, but I don’t love anyone else. I can’t. Love makes you vulnerable. It gives people the power to hurt you.

  Like him.

  “You’re pretty darn cute too,” he says with a grin.

  “Did you seriously just call me cute?” I laugh. I can’t help it. “And you said darn.”

  “Curse words aren’t always necessary to get the point across.”

  “You afraid you’re going to go to hell?” I ask on a laugh. Drop a few F-bombs and get the key to the fiery gates.

  “I used to be,” he says. “Now I’m not so sure.”

  I realize how stiff he is in my arms. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”

  I look up at him. He has dark hair that falls over his forehead in a wave. His eyes are almost black in the waning light, and they’re staring directly into mine. I know they’re brown, but right now they’re dark. And hot.

  “I forgive you,” he says with a small smile.

  “Next time, I’ll just tease you about that cow lick.” I point up toward his hair.

  He chuckles loudly and throws his head back. I watch him, wondering at a man who can laugh with no restraint.

  “We need to talk,” he says next to my ear. A delicious shiver crawls up my spine.

  “No, we don’t.” I hold tightly to his hand, which is wrapped around mine.

  He holds me tighter. “Yes, we do.”

  “What did you do with the rugrat?” I ask when I suddenly remember his son.

  He laughs. “Your mother took him and told me to go and dance. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “She usually doesn’t,” I murmur. I look over and find her cuddling the kid while she feeds him a bottle. She winks at me.

  “Your family is pretty fabulous.”

  “Yeah, they are,” I agree. My family is awesome.

  “You’re lucky,” he says, his voice getting husky. “Not everyone is that lucky.”

  “You were adopted by an uncle, right?” I vaguely remember the story. The uncle didn’t want his sisters, so Tag went there alone.

  “Yes.” He’s stiff as a board now.

  “Then you were lucky too.”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “So you’re going home with us?” I wince when I realize how that sounded. “I mean,” I stumble to say, “I mean you’re going to use Star’s old room again?”

  He nods. “For tonight, at least.” He looks down at me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “As long as you promise not to pee on the toilet seat or leave the seat up.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He chuckles. “Can you survive my presence for a day or two?”

  I shrug. “I’ll try. It’ll be difficult.”

  “Thank you for your sacrifice.” He laughs again. It’s a warm, clean chuckle and my
insides melt. He speaks again and it’s right by my ear. “I’m sorry if my leaving hurt you. I had to take care of something, and I couldn’t explain it at the time. But now I want to tell you about it. Can I?” He waits expectantly.

  “Maybe…”

  The music stops and he lifts my hand to his lips. He places a tender kiss across the backs of my knuckles, and my belly flips. “Thank you for the dance,” he says, his lips lingering over my skin, his breath warm and humid.

  “Thank you for punching the douchebag in the face.”

  “You’re welcome.” He tangles his fingers in mine and leads me back to my parents. Then he takes Wren to go and dance.

  I watch him as he laughs with her, and his cheeks get rosy and I imagine she’s teasing him about hitting the guy. But then he looks in my direction and his eyes meet mine. She’s teasing him about me if he’s searching me out like that. He winks at me, and my heart betrays me with a little flip. What the fuck is that about?

  Another man comes up and asks me to dance. I get up and say quietly to him, “Did I fuck you too and just don’t remember it?”

  He shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says with a grin.

  I laugh and let him lead me out onto the dance floor. But I can feel Tag’s eyes on me and I don’t even unbutton the top button of the guy’s shirt. I don’t run my fingertips beneath his collar. I don’t accidentally graze his dick. I do nothing. Because Tag is watching me, and for some reason I feel funny about having him see me put the moves on some random guy. Just in this moment. Just for this second.

  The thought irritates me, because I can do whatever I want with my body. It’s mine and I don’t have to let anyone judge me. Not a single soul.

  I’m beyond irritated when the dance is over, because I could have taken this one home with me. Tag is already messing with my game.

  I have to fix that. Starting immediately.

  Tag

  I flex my fist, stretching my fingers because they hurt. I haven’t hit anyone in a really long time. I couldn’t help it though. He was so rude and inconsiderate. I wanted to shove his teeth down his throat but couldn’t, not with her watching. It’s bad enough that I hit him.

  I would scare her if she actually saw how much turmoil there is deep down in my soul. If she encountered the depth of my rage, she wouldn’t look at me the same. None of them would.

  I sit down next to Emilio, Finny’s adoptive father. He holds his fist up like he wants to pound his fist against mine, like men often do, so I touch mine to his gently. “Nice job,” he says quietly.

  I don’t say anything.

  “If you hadn’t done it, I was going to.”

  I look up at him, but still don’t speak.

  “I’d fight to the death for my daughters.” His voice is low and gravelly.

  “I’m glad Star and Wren have you.” It’s true. So glad. I am grateful that they didn’t end up where I did. Because where I ended up was so much worse.

  “How’s your hand?” he asks.

  I flex my fingers again. “I’ll live.”

  “Felt good, didn’t it?” He watches my face closely.

  “Not really. I don’t like fighting.” I lean forward and balance my elbows on my knees, and let my hands hang down.

  His eyes ghost over the shadow of a scar on my upper eyebrow, and then slide across my chin, which is a crisscross of webbing from all the times I landed on my face. “Right,” he says quietly.

  I watch Fin as she dances. She’s graceful and so very beautiful. And so far outside my league.

  “You’re going home with the girls tonight?” Emilio asks.

  I shrug. “They invited me.” I look at him, finally, and find him studying me intently. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  He shakes his head. “My girls are strong women. They can take care of themselves.”

  My eyes go back to the dance floor and land on Finny again, where she’s in the arms of another man. He’s looking down at her like he wants to have her for breakfast. Or a midnight snack.

  “Don’t let Finny’s one-night stands bother you,” he says.

  I jerk my head up. “What?”

  He nods toward her. “She brings them home sometimes, but she kicks them out soon after. I don’t think she’s ever had one stay the night.” He shakes his head.

  “Does that worry you?”

  “Nah,” he says. “It would worry me if one ever did stay the night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Emilio shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  I wonder if he would feel so nonchalant about it if he knew I was one of her one-night stands and that she didn’t exactly kick me out of her bed at the end of the night.

  He gets up and goes to get Marta to dance. She puts Benji in his carrier for me. He’s sound asleep, but I still start to rock it with my foot.

  Emilio whisks Marta out onto the dance floor. She giggles and lets him draw her close.

  I wonder to myself what he meant by saying he would worry if she did let one stay the night. Strange.

  ***

  Benji wakes me up in the middle of the night four times. I am blurry-eyed and staggering when I smell the coffee start to brew. I lift my head and look around. Coffee? There’s coffee?

  I toss the covers back and pull on a T-shirt and some jeans. It would probably be prudent to go to the kitchen in clothes. I immediately wonder if Fin will be up and if she’ll still be in her jammies. Is it disturbing that I would love to see her in her jammies, looking all rumpled and sleepy-eyed? Probably.

  I start toward the kitchen and Wren calls out, “Don’t get between Finny and the coffee pot!”

  I stop and rub my eyes. “Huh?”

  Fin walks toward me, shooting daggers at me with her eyes. I step to the side and let her walk by me. She’s wearing loose-fitting pajama pants with the top rolled down, and a thin camisole with skinny straps. And, holy hell, she’s not wearing a bra. I look away. My dick is already paying attention. I’ve never seen her when she first wakes up. Damn, she’s pretty.

  She stumbles blindly toward the coffee pot and stops in front of it. She fills a mug, and my mouth waters. I want coffee too, but she’s taking her own sweet time about filling her cup.

  “Don’t touch my coffee,” she mutters as she shuffles past me, dragging her feet.

  I’m already reaching for a mug, but I stop. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she snaps, but she doesn’t look at me.

  I put the mug back.

  Wren gets up from her spot on the couch and stomps into the room. She takes down a mug and fills it for me, then presses it into my hands.

  “Thank you,” I murmur. It’s all I can do to get the words out. I usually don’t speak until I have finished a pot.

  “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” Lark says as she comes into the room.

  I’m already blowing across the lip of the mug. I look up.

  “She’ll knife you in your sleep, dude,” Lark says. “She’s a bitch about her coffee.”

  “I’ll make more,” I say. I go to the kitchen table and sit down. There’s a newspaper lying there, so I open it and I immediately see a picture of the Zeroes. They’re candid wedding shots, obviously taken from a tree or a tall building near the venue.

  I stop and read all the articles about Star’s wedding, the Reeds, who were in attendance, and all the celebrity gossip about them. Some of it is ludicrous. Other parts are laughable, and even more are just sad. They can’t possibly get a lot of privacy.

  “Oh, shit,” Wren says as she looks over my shoulder at the pictures. She jerks the paper from my hand. “They got pictures of them. Those assholes!”

  “I’m just glad no one got a picture of Josh standing at the altar,” Lark says.

  “He doesn’t want anyone to know?” I ask.

  They all shake their heads. “That was all for Star. Kind of a private thing,” Wren explains.

  “Will she be angry about this?”

 
; “Probably not,” Lark replies. “I know I’m not going to tell her.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  The girls all look at one another and grin.

  “Because they’re busy knocking boots,” Finny blurts out. “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.”

  Heat creeps up my face. “Oh.”

  Suddenly, Benji cries from the other room. “Can I get him?” Wren asks.

  I look down into my half-full cup of coffee. “I can do it.” I heave a sigh and start to get up. But Wren is already going toward my room. She goes inside and I hear her cooing at Benji. It makes me smile.

  But he’s not going to be happy until his tummy is full. I am completely sure of that. I get a bottle from the fridge and stick it in the microwave. I’m still shaking it when Wren comes back into the kitchen carrying him. She takes the bottle from me and goes to sit on the couch, with my son in her arms. He lets her feed him, and looks up at her, his eyes big and wide.

  “That’s a nice look on you,” Finny calls to her.

  Wren flips Finny off from over her shoulder.

  I laugh.

  “Just because you don’t like kids doesn’t mean they’re all bad,” Wren says. “This one is kind of cute.” She grins down into my son’s face.

  “It looks better from over here,” she sings out.

  “He’s not an it,” I say.

  She snorts. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

  “I hope he didn’t keep you up last night,” I tell her. He only cried for a minute or two each time, but it was still noise when they were trying to sleep.

  I came home last night with Lark, and Fin was still dancing with some guy at the party when we left. It shouldn’t bother me, and I can’t figure out why it does. She’s not mine. She never was.

  She looks at me and her brow furrows. She doesn’t say anything.

  The doorbell rings and Lark rolls her eyes. “Ten bucks says that’s I-want-to-get-in-her-pants-again flowers.”

  “Huh?” I get up and go to the door. Fin goes to her room, closing her bedroom door.

  I open the front door, and find a man standing there holding flowers. He looks around the edge of the bouquet and frowns at me.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “I was looking for Finch…” He waits, letting his voice hang there in the air.