Sex Says(36)

“Yep.”

“Is he a psychopath?” Annie asked with narrowed eyes. She was just as pissed off about this as I was. I guess sisters weren’t always a pain in the ass.

My mother tsked. “There’s no way a man with those blue eyes could be a psychopath.”

“Mom!” I groaned. “Could you forget about your little fangirl crush for just a second to do the normal supportive thing and say bad things about Reed Luca with me? I mean, you’re my mother. You should be raking his name through the mud to show your support.”

I couldn’t deny the man had the most intense, striking eyes I’d ever seen. Hell, if I never had to hear him babble existential bullshit, I’d consider keeping him around just to lose myself in them.

But that was beside the point. Beautiful blue eyes, sexy smile, perfect hair, kissable lips…they were inconsequential when their owner was a certified asshole.

“Do I need to kill him?” my father asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world to discuss murder.

“Uh…I think that might be a little overboard,” I refuted. “But…if you’ve got any ideas on how to make him disappear that doesn’t involve homicide, I’m all ears.”

“Well…there’s kidnapping and sending him to a remote island.”

“Harry,” my mother voiced her disapproval regarding illegal kidnappings.

My dad flashed a knowing look in her direction. “Oh, like you wouldn’t be asking me to drop you off with him.”

“Eww, Dad,” Annie chastised.

“Don’t get pissed at me. Your mother’s the pervert, not me.”

My mother grinned. “I’d prefer to use the term cougar.”

Annie rested both elbows on the table and put her head in her hands. “Oh my God, Mom. You’re not a cougar.”

“Your father is two years younger than me.”

“That doesn’t count,” my sister muttered into her palms.

“Counts in my book, Deb.” My father winked. “You’ll always be a sexy cougar in my eyes.”

“Can we get back to me?” I questioned in frustration. “I mean, you should all be bashing Reed right now. That’s what a good family would do.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, sweetheart,” my dad apologized. “If you want me to kill that little prick, I’ll kill him. And I’m sure his column will be a shitheap of nonsense compared to yours.”

“Grandpa just said shitheap!” Henry exclaimed.

“Dad.”

He just shrugged. “Sorry, Annie, but I can’t bash and spell out words like a moron at the same time. Something’s gotta give here.”

“I hope that handsome boy gets a taste of his own medicine.”

“Jesus, Mom.” I groaned. “Are you even trying?”

“I think your dad’s idea about the remote island is something to think about, Lola.”

Brian had a point, and it came without the requirement of getting the president’s approval first. Obviously, I needed to add it to my list.

I clicked open the Notes section on my phone and typed it in.



Way to get rid of Reed Luca:

1. Teleportation Device

2. Remote Island



Okay, so there were only two items on that list, but in my defense, I refused to resort to homicide. It was too fucking messy, and there was no way in hell I’d mess up my manicure and fresh coat of pink shellac for Reed Luca. I was a bit eccentric, but I wasn’t insane.

In the meantime, I’d just have to go back to ignoring him. I’d managed that just fine until earlier this afternoon, and I could do it again.

Reed Luca only exists if I want him to exist. Reed Luca only exists if I want him to exist, I chanted in my head.

One click of the heels of my bright pink boots and he’d be nothing but a memory.





“I can’t believe I let you talk me into getting you that information,” my brother-in-law Cam hissed as soon as I walked in the back door of my parents’ house. It led right into the kitchen, and apparently, tonight, acted as an equally valid portal to confrontation.

“Sure you can,” I told him, pulling off my jacket, tossing it on the hook by the door, and moseying toward the stools at the island. “We’re family. My shit is your shit.”

My nonchalance did nothing to calm him down. If anything, his stance got more aggressive.

“No, no, that’s not true. I never want your shit to be my shit. I’m a cop. Your shit should actually never be my shit.” Unfortunately for Cam, he was also notorious for losing all semblance of volume control when his patience started to drain.

“You got involved with his shit?!” my sister said at a near shriek as she rounded the corner, already nine-tenths involved in the conversation and our huddle before even fully entering the room. But to be fair, that was mostly her stomach’s fault.