Chapter 6
BEN
“Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what Kent said.”
“Well, Kent wasn’t there, so how the hell would he know?” I sigh. “She was loaded.”
“Since when is a girl too drunk for Ben Morris?”
“Dude.” I shoot a glare at Mason as we find a park bench in the shade to help ward off the September midday heat, drinks and lunch in hand. Jack had to cancel plans due to a client emergency. Apparently that happens a lot.
He holds his hands up. “Sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that.”
I watch him as he carefully unfolds and smooths three napkins over his lap and then surgically unravels some weird veggie-tofu-wrap shit, careful not to let so much as a shred of lettuce fall out. We’ve all teased Mason about his chick diet for years, but the guy’s so particular about things, he can’t even be shamed into a greasy burger. I kind of like that about him. “Are you going to eat that or marry it?”
“You saw her office, right?” he asks, ignoring me. “She’s a slob. Living with her is a fucking nightmare.” That’s two f-bombs dropped by Mason today. Swearing is another thing he doesn’t do, which tells me that either the idea of me screwing around with his stepsister or his stepsister in general really gets under his skin.
A flash of my trashed hotel room in the morning hits me and I smile to myself. “And yet she sure cleans up nice.” I get an eye roll in response. “Look, I know she’s your stepsister, but she’s fucking hot.” As much as I liked the “I don’t give a shit” wild-girl look she had going on in Cancún, this new look—with her pretty blond hair and her little dress and her boots—is a huge turn-on.
“And certifiable.” He fixes me with a look. “Seriously. Her nickname around the office is Rancor.”
Coke shoots out my mouth as I stifle a laugh. “Does she know?”
“I guess you missed the life-sized cardboard standee in her office? The day she heard Nelson from contracts slip and call her that within earshot, she rush-ordered it from some Star Wars website. She sets it up beside her door on the mornings when she’s extra annoyed.” He shakes his head at me as I explode in laughter.
For everything else about her that was a lie, I’m glad to see that biting sense of humor is genuine. I like a woman who can make me laugh. “If she’s so difficult, why would your father keep her there? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he has. I’m looking forward to working with her.”
“You won’t be for long,” he mutters. And then sighs heavily. “Even though she’s highly unprofessional and will likely get the firm sued on employee relations issues at some point, I’ll admit that she’s really good at what she does. All she has is a high school diploma and a paralegal certificate and yet she’s telling half the associates how to do their jobs, quoting laws and statutes. And she’s usually right. It’s disturbing, how fast she picks up on things.”
“So you’re saying she’s a genius,” I say around a mouthful of food.
“Yeah, maybe,” he says with a hint of resentment in his voice. “She’s also selfish, reckless, unreliable, and impulsive.” He downs his Perrier and mutters dryly, “All signs of a sociopath.”
“Oh, hell.” I roll my eyes. I forgot that Mason did his undergrad in psychology. “Give me a break. Your sister’s not a sociopath, Mace! You just really don’t like her, do you?”
“Stepsister,” he corrects, his tone sharpening a little. “It’s not that I don’t like her. Well . . .” He half-shrugs. “I’ll admit, I’m not overly fond of her. But really, I just don’t trust her. My dad didn’t hear from her for nine years, and then out of the blue she calls him to bail her out from a Jacksonville police station back in January?” Shaking his head, he adds, “He dropped everything and drove up there. He almost lost the firm’s biggest client that day because of it.”
Hmm . . . What was she doing in a police station? “Does she have a record?” Not that I really care. Unless it had anything to do with performing exorcisms on guys who are trying to get laid.
“Juvenile. It was sealed when she turned eighteen. Mostly stupid stuff, from what my dad told me. Fights . . . pot . . . drag racing.”
My eyes shoot up at that last one.
“This last time was pretty serious, though. She vandalized her ex-husband’s apartment.”
My sub freezes midair to my mouth with this new information. “Ex-husband? Didn’t she say she just turned twenty-one?”
Mason’s head bobs. “Married at nineteen. She knew the guy for all of six weeks before they eloped in Vegas. Tell me you’re surprised that their marriage only lasted four and a half months.”
“Shit . . . That tattoo on her arm. Was that him?” It has to be. And I made that boneheaded comment about it.
“Yeah, I think so. Apparently when she went back to move her things out, she splattered red paint all over the apartment.” His eyes widen knowingly. “Do you get the symbolism there? Red paint . . .?”
“She’s feisty.” Again, something I knew. Again, something I like. I can’t help but note her choice in color and start to laugh. That shirt never stood a chance.
“Sounds like the divorce was ugly.”
“The guy cheated on her.”
“Shmuck.” If you can’t be monogamous, don’t get into a committed relationship, let alone a marriage. That’s my philosophy. Which is exactly why I don’t commit to anyone. “So Jack decided to bring her to Miami with him?”
Nodding slowly, Mason admits, “My dad always really liked Reese.” He snorts. “More than he liked me. But how do I know she’s not out to con him? Her mother already bled him dry once.”
I chew my sandwich silently, waiting for Mason to elaborate, surprised that he’s telling me this much to begin with. “He and Reese’s mom were married for five years before he found out she was having an affair with Barry Steele.”
Pieces start clicking together. “Warner and Steele . . . Old partner?”
Mason nods.
“That’s cold.”
“Yeah, well, Annabelle is an opportunistic, self-centered whore. She nearly destroyed my family’s legacy. It cost my dad a fortune to buy Barry out and then she tried to swoop in to pick at his bones like a vulture, but Barry wouldn’t let her. Dad’s still recovering financially. That’s why he hasn’t been able to finish the office renos.” Mason pauses for a drink. “Apparently she left Barry about two years ago and moved on to a U.S. senator.”
“Is she hot?”
“Yeah, I guess. But so was Grendel’s mother,” he mutters, making me shake my head. Leave it to Mason to reference Beowulf. Folding up the wrappers from his sandwich, careful not to spill crumbs on his pants, he goes on to say, “My dad’s not stupid, Ben.” Mason’s eyes look that much bigger behind those big glasses as he peers at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Hell, he can’t possibly blame me for that night! I wasn’t even hired here yet.”
“He knows your type and he knows where you’ve been working the last four years. He almost didn’t hire you because of it. He made me promise him that you’d be able to keep your pants on before he made you an offer.”
I chuckle. “Well, you may have your work cut out for you, Mace.”
“I’m not kidding. Look, he just finished dealing with a lawsuit against Warner from three years ago. A guy from litigation was dating a paralegal. When they broke up, it turned sour. Apparently she got pretty hostile and brought it into the office. Jack eventually had to let her go and she sued for wrongful dismissal. He doesn’t want to deal with that again. That’s why he has these rules. Rules that are meant to be followed.”
Mason is a rule follower, through and through. Black-and-white. That’s what will probably make him a very good lawyer. I’m a big “gray area” kind of guy, always looking for ways to bend and reinterpret the rules. That’s what will probably make me a damn fantastic lawyer.
“If it means anything to you at all . . . he thinks you’ve got a lot of promise, Ben, but he won’t think twice about firing you if he catches you screwing around with anyone,” Mason says.
Getting fired right out of law school would look terrible. Good luck finding another job in Miami after something like that, and I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future. My mama needs at least one of her children to stay close.
“And if he caught you with Reese . . .” Mason goes on, shaking his head.
Slapping my buddy over his shoulder, I promise, “Point made, and don’t worry. I told you, those days are over. Plus, something tells me that girl’s pride won’t let her give me the time of day.” Getting puked on isn’t something I strive for when I bring a girl back to my hotel room, but shit happens when you’re pounding booze. Hell, two weeks ago I was on a stage with Mercy’s thong on, my nut sac hanging out for all to see. Not one of my finer moments, but I’ll survive. Something tells me stuff doesn’t slide off Reese’s shoulders as fast, though. And maybe it’s not even the puking. I did watch her crawl naked across the floor, too. And I laughed at her while she was doing it. I don’t think most women would appreciate being laughed at in that situation. Even Kacey would probably beat me senseless, and she takes it like the best of them.
Mason’s mouth opens but he hesitates, a sour expression twisting his face. “What’d you do to her?”
I lift my hands in surrender. “It’s not about what I did to her.”
He’s on his feet and marching forward, shaking his head. “Just don’t tease her, Ben. You’ll regret it.”
Shit. Not teasing her about this is going to be really hard for me, seeing as that’s what I do best. Besides, I owe her for not letting me shower in my own damn bathroom. “Hey,” I call out and ask on a hunch, “what’d you do to piss her off so bad?”
His feet slow and I hear his heavy sigh as he turns, a guilty look plastered across his face. “I said some stupid stuff about her father.”