One Real Man (Entangled Bliss)(16)
“Told you that bikini would look good on you, Tash,” Gretel drawled. “Finn is going to go wild when he sees you at my pool party.”
Owen felt a giant scowl knitting his forehead. Why did Gretel call his sister “Tash”? And no way was he letting his baby sister prance around in that skimpy bikini for a boy called Finn! He marched into the pool house.
“Oh, hi.” Gretel waved at him languidly.
Natasha halted, a guilty expression flitting across her face quickly replaced by bravado. Jutting her hip, she struck a pose in front of him. “Like my new bikini?”
He drew in a breath, ready to unleash his lecture, but before he could Paige brushed past him carrying a pile of fresh white towels. She plumped them on the table next to Natasha and rested hands on hips. “Here you go. Clean towels for everyone.” There was the faintest trace of exasperation in her voice.
“Thanks.” Natasha glanced uncertainly at Gretel, then back at Paige. “Uh, we’d like a bowl of popcorn, please. And a couple of Cokes, too.”
Owen saw Paige inhaling deeply, just as he had a second ago. Her shoulders rose, the ends of her ponytail quivered, her lips thinned. “Sure”
“No.” The word snapped out of him like a gunshot. He walked over to the stereo and yanked the cord from the socket, plunging the pool room into silence. Turning, he fixed his gaze on his nervous-looking sister. “Last time I checked you weren’t paralyzed. If you want popcorn and Cokes you can fetch them yourself from the kitchen. And that goes for pool towels, too.” He was conscious of Gretel staring at him, and Natasha making a fish mouth at him, but he didn’t stop. “Paige is not here to be at your beck and call, understood?”
A red tide of mortification overwhelmed Natasha’s face. “I j-just asked for a few things! And Paige didn’t seem to mind.”
That was the other thing bugging him. Why did Paige go along with his sister’s Lady Muck behavior? She had no trouble telling him to go stick it, so why not Natasha?
“I mind,” he growled.
An ornery look came over Natasha. “She’s the housekeeper, isn’t she? That’s her job.”
Natasha did a defiant hair toss while Gretel looked on, avid. Paige just stood there, hands behind her back, looking like she took orders every day. Something rose in Owen’s throat, something irate and frustrated. He felt like grabbing the towels and hurling them into the pool. Hell, why was he so confused all of a sudden? Paige was his housekeeper, and fetching towels and snacks was what he paid her to do. Nothing complicated about that. But something about his sister’s behavior sent his temper over the edge.
He glowered at Natasha. “Is that what they teach you at that fancy school of yours? Do I spend forty grand a year so you can learn how to treat people like crap? If this is how you behave nowadays then I’m pulling you out of Argyle House and sending you to the local high school. Maybe that’ll bring you down a peg or two.”
Her cheeks turned white. “You wouldn’t,” she choked out. “I couldn’t stand going to the local school. Ugh!”
“I went to that school, and there’s nothing wrong with it.” His temples were pounding. “You might learn a little humility there.”
Natasha’s shoulders heaved. “You’re horrible. I hate you! I wish you’d never moved back here.” Bursting into tears, she ran from the conservatory.
Without a word Gretel rose to her feet, glared at Owen, and followed after Natasha. In the sudden silence, he shifted his attention to Paige.
She tilted her head to one side. She didn’t seem too affected by the argument. “Well, that’s going to cost you. I’d say a Prada bag at the very least.”
He massaged his temples. “What?”
“Or maybe you’ll have to go the whole hog. A weekend shopping trip to Sydney. You’ll hate it, but at least you’ll get to spend some time with her.”
“You’re talking about Natasha? Why the hell would I want to reward her bad behavior?”
“Um, let’s see” Paige tapped a finger against her chin. “You humiliated her in front of the queen bee, you threatened to drag her away from the home she’s had for several years, and you’re willing to throw her in with a bunch of kids who’d poke fun at her and make her life a misery. So, yeah, I think you have some making up to do.”
He hauled in a few much-needed breaths. “Why are you defending her? She behaved like a brat, ordering you to fetch towels and drinks for her. She treated you just like”
“Like I treated you?” She arched an eyebrow. “Is that why you went so hard on her? Because she reminded you of me?”
“Yes,” he growled, feeling cornered and not knowing why. “But why am I the bad guy in this? I’m just trying to teach my sister a few life lessons.”
She straightened the towels, not answering him right away. “You need to be more diplomatic about it, not such a bull in a china shop.”
“Huh, well there’s nothing diplomatic about that statement.”
“Oh, Owen, we’re way past diplomacy.”
He jutted out his jaw. “Natasha knows what I’m like. I call a spade a spade.”
“She’s sixteen. Girls that age are very sensitive about how they appear in front of their peers.”
Not just girls. Boys were sensitive, too. He had the memory of Eric Jensen and his mates snickering as he was manhandled from the school hall etched into his brain for all eternity. Paige was right, dammit. He should have taken Natasha aside before criticizing her, not chew her out in front of Gretel. He’d behaved like a Neanderthal and lost the advantage of being in the right.
He uttered a part groan, part sigh. “How do I buy a bloody Prada bag and how much should I spend?”
Paige did a double take. “You’re really going to take my advice?”
“In this, yes. I don’t want a rift between Natasha and me at this early stage, and I’m in over my head.”
“This is quite a novelty, you asking for my help.” She grinned, looking pleased with herself.
“Don’t get carried away. It’s just a bag.”
“It’s not just a bag. You don’t understand how the right accessory can transform an entire outfit, how the feel and smell of a new handbag can lift a girl’s spirits.”
“I don’t want to understand. I just want to buy the flipping thing and get it over with.”
“Men.” She shook her head at his lack of empathy before dusting her hands and readjusting her ponytail. “Right, let’s get down to business. We can order the bag over the internet, and it should be here in a couple of days. Why don’t we check out a few options on your computer?”
He followed her out the pool house. The prospect of spending his afternoon browsing the internet for a handbag didn’t seem as horrifying as it sounded. Perhaps Paige had something to do with that.
“Youch!” Paige hissed as the scraper slipped and jagged into her palm. Blood welled up from the cut and oozed over her skin, dripping onto her shoes and the dusty floorboards of her living room. Blast it. She’d spent over an hour scraping the peeling paint from the walls and she was almost done in. The muscles in her back and arms ached, her manicure was ruined, her hair was covered in grit and sweat. Her concentration had begun to waver, which was when the accident had happened.
She needed antiseptic and a large Band-Aid, neither of which she had in the cottage. She’d have to go up to the main house and use the first aid kit stored in the laundry room. With a clean paper towel wrapped around her hand, she set off.
She’d intended to spend Sunday afternoon working on her résumé, but couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for it, so instead she’d decided to attack the peeling walls. Now it was a pleasant change to wander through the mild autumn air. The trees were beginning to change color. Magpies warbled in the bottlebrushes. Before, she’d never spent much time in the garden, but since moving into the caretaker’s cottage she’d found a new appreciation for the peace and beauty around her. She really had been lucky to grow up here, even though she’d taken it all for granted.
In the laundry room she found the first aid kit, but with only one working hand it was difficult to open. The box slithered from her grasp, and she was wrestling with it when Owen ducked his head inside.
“What’s up?” he asked before his gaze zeroed in on the towel wrapped around her hand, and he immediately stepped closer. “You’re hurt.” He reached for her hand, and she didn’t even think of not letting him touch her.
Her heart had started thumping uncomfortably as soon as he’d appeared. Earlier, she’d glimpsed him driving off with Natasha, presumably to return her to Argyle House, but she hadn’t heard him return.
“How did this happen?” he asked as he gently held her hand.
She put on a casual little smile. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from my scraper. If you’ll just open the box for me, I can do the rest myself.”
Instead of obeying, he unfolded the towel from her hand. Some of the blood had dried, sticking to the towel and tugging at her skin as he uncovered it. She didn’t flinch, but he paused right away.