A Very Dirty Wedding(42)

And then I hear Rose's voice, calling out from down the hallway. "Kate, are you okay? I heard a crash."

"Shit." Caulter has pulled up his pants before I can blink, and is looking casual and blasé by the time Rose opens the door.

"What happened?" she asks, looking back and forth between us.

"I -- the ladder came off the tracks," I say.

Caulter interrupts. "She was trying to reach one of the books on the shelf up there, and it just...gave way. Someone should definitely come out to look at that. It seems like a safety hazard. That's a problem with these older houses." He looks so sincere I almost believe him.

Rose looks at me long and hard and I try not to blush. "You were trying to reach one of those books up there on...medieval history?"

I swallow hard. "I was browsing. For research purposes."

"Research purposes," she repeats. "It's a good thing Caulter was in here to help you when the ladder gave way."

I clear my throat. "Yes. It's definitely a good thing."

Rose turns to leave, but pauses when she reaches the door. "I'm glad to see the two of you getting along so well."

I look at Caulter wide-eyed after she's gone. "Do you think she knows?"

He shrugs. "Maybe. Who cares?"

"I care, you idiot," I say. "Don't you? What if she says something to my father? What if someone finds out? I can't believe we broke the ladder in here, for goodness' sake."

"For goodness sake?" Caulter laughs. "Okay, grandma."

"I'm being serious, Caulter," I say. I'm getting irritated with him for taking this whole thing so lightly. "Behavior has consequences."

Caulter is standing close to me, and I immediately feel the thrill of his nearness. I silently curse my damn body for being so attracted to him. "So what if your father finds out?"

"It'll ruin his campaign."

"Why?"

"You know why, Caulter," I say. "We're...going to be related."

"We're not related," he says. "You're being ridiculous. We're barely even step-siblings."

I bristle at the way he brushes off my concerns as if they're nothing. "People won't care about what's true, Caulter," I insist. I'm angry that he's dismissing me, the same way my father dismisses me. "They thrive on scandal. They'll latch onto it and run with it. It'll ruin his campaign and his public image."

Caulter traces a finger down the front of my chest, and I smack it away, but not before it gets a physical reaction from me, goose bumps dotting my skin. Damn him. "Why do you even give a shit about it?" he asks.

"Because he's my father."

Caulter laughs, the sound bitter. "Yeah, he seems like a great father."

"You don't know anything," I say, defending him despite my mixed feelings. All I know is that I'm irritated with Caulter.

Caulter leans in close to me, slips his finger underneath one of the straps on my dress. "I know that you're not the good little straight-laced girl your father wants, the poster child for his campaign. I know that you're so fucking pent-up with all your studying and being responsible and being so damn perfect all the time that you've been dying for someone like me to come along who will let you out of your pretty little shell and make you feel something."

Now I'm beyond irritated. I put my hands on his chest and try to push him away, but he grabs my wrists and holds me tight. "You don't know a thing about me," I say.

"I know that you're living up to everyone else's idea of who you should be," he says. "I don't think for a fucking second you want to go to Harvard, be a lawyer or a doctor or whatever the hell daddy has planned for you. I see you with your sketchpad, drawing all the time. You just don't have the fucking balls to do what you want to do."

It's somehow over the line, him watching me draw, noticing things about me. He notices too many things about me. I yank my wrists away and push him, hard. "Fuck you." I spew the words from my mouth like they're poison. "Fuck you, Caulter. You're so damn high and mighty, rebelling against anyone and everything because you're too cool for conformity. Yet here you are, doing exactly what your mother wants you to do because....why, exactly? She won't give you your paycheck? You think rebelling means you know who you are? It just means you're full of shit."

I walk out of the room before he can respond, anger flooding my body. He just gets so far under my damn skin. He's so infuriating and smug and self-satisfied. He acts like he's so much more mature than I am, with so much more experience under his belt. He's just a trust fund baby who doesn't know the least little bit about things like obligation and family.