“Of course. I understand completely. In fact, that gives me the perfect opportunity to thank Herbie properly, if you know what I—”
“Stop! There are some things I don’t need to know, Mom.” I wrinkle my nose at the thought, but I can’t help laughing either. It’s really funny to hear her acting like a teenager. Puppy love at forty-seven. Who’d have thought?
She laughs too. “Alright, I get it. I’m just excited.” She draws a breath, reining in the giggles. “Listen, I’m going to go, but let me know when you know when you’re coming home. I want some girl time with my girl too, alright? ”
“I know, Mom. Me too. Just, you know... hang a sock on the front door in case I forget to knock. There’s only so much trauma I can take.”
She laughs. “Will do. Love you, Honey.”
“Love you, Mom.”
I hang up, thinking about Mom’s new love and what that means for me. I’m stuck with Gavin. He might not be such a bad guy underneath it all, but I’m not convinced I can really trust him. Still, just because I don’t hate him doesn’t mean I can’t give him a hard time. That’s what little sisters are all about, aren’t they? Even if they’re stepsisters?
And I can’t think of a better place to start than dinner. He won’t know what hit him.
Chapter 16: Gavin
When Angie walks in, my hors d’oeuvre almost gets stuck in my throat. Wouldn’t that be hilarious? Death by a pig in a fucking blanket. A near porked-to-death experience. Goddamn, she looks fantastic. I saw the dress in the store, but all made up? She fucking owns the place.
The bright red fabric waves like a flag, taunting all the bulls in the room. Bet they’d love a go, but she’s here for me. She’s put her hair up in a naughty librarian bun, pinned in place with some fancy stick thing, and I’m already fantasizing about tugging it out and watching her hair come loose as I push her onto our bed.
Sashaying across the room, putting one foot right in front of the other as she struts in her new black stilettos, her hips sway in a way that’s fucking hypnotic. Hips I want to grab. That I want to hold onto while I have her bent over the bed, while I pound into her. She sees me from across the room, and from her knowing smile, I’m guessing my jaw’s currently scraping the floor. I don’t give a fuck.
Jesus H. Christ.
I mean, yeah, obviously I know she’s fucking hot, but damn. As she gets closer, I see she’s put on bright red lipstick that matches the dress. I want that lipstick smeared down my cock. If she doesn’t tone it down, I might just pick her up and carry her right up to the room, and she can scream all she wants about chastity vows on the way, because we both know it’s not a question of yes or no, only when.
She laughs quietly as she closes in. “You’re going to catch flies like that.” She’s trying to keep cool, but her voice is a little husky. I love it. Still, I close my mouth.
I’m not the only one staring. Almost every eye in the restaurant is on her, and on cruise that’s basically packed with the rich and attractive, that’s saying something. I should grab her and carry her off before someone she doesn’t think is an asshole decides he needs to trade in his trophy wife for a younger model.
But Angie? She hasn’t noticed a thing. She’s got one of those cherry red lips caught between her teeth, and she only has eyes for me. Waiting for me to say something, like she cares what I think. What I think, is that no matter what I said earlier that day, she’s the one with class.
“You look fucking fantastic, babe.” I offer my arm to her. “Every single guy in the room is jealous of me right now, knowing it’s me and not them who’s going to take you up to the room and bang you tonight.”
She blinks a couple of times before she takes my arm and laughs. “In your dreams, asshole.” Her tone is friendly and happy, but low enough that no one can hear the actual words.
A smile spreads on my face as I take us to our table. Yesterday she would’ve stormed off after a comment like that, but now she laughs and throws it right back.
The captain stands when we get to the table. He’s tall. Taller than me, even, which doesn’t happen often. He’s older, short hair peppered with grey. He stands like he’s got a rod up his ass and I bet he’s ex-Navy. His beard’s neatly trimmed, not a hair is out of place. He doesn’t need his white dress uniform to show he’s the captain, but I’m sure the ladies love it.
His whole look seems contrived to look as handsome sea captain as possible. He looks me over, probably noting that my clothes say money, but my attitude says ‘fuck you’. We’re both players, we just use different rules.