Morgan acted like she didn’t know whether to stay or leave.
“You figure it out,” Holly replied, pushing by him.
“I said I want you out!”
She nodded her head toward Kemper. “If he tells me to leave, I’ll go. Until then, this is my home as much as it is yours.”
“Like hell it is!” Kit called out behind her.
“Talk to your attorney, Kit,” she sang, thinking her remark would send him reeling. “When you moved me here and you insisted that I sell my residence in Nashville, I became your common-law wife.”
“My what?”
“You heard me,” she said flippantly. “Now, I’ve got to run along. I’m meeting some friends at the club and then we’re shopping on your plastic. My treat.”
Before he could object, or steal away with her credit card, she slipped inside the house and locked the door. Waving at them through the window, she hurried away. She had men to see and money to spend. Well, scratch the men.
The two best fellows in the South were right there at home. She wasn’t about to lose them without putting up one hell of a fight.
Chapter Three
“Did you fail to read the e-mail I forwarded you?” Kit asked, taking a gulp from his water bottle before shuffling through cattle orders scattered across the glass-top patio table.
Morgan slipped away out of sight without so much as a wave good-bye. Kemper was glad she didn’t stick around to hear their brother’s rant. Later, Kit would probably live to regret his tantrum. “Answer me. Did you see the forwarded text?”
“I saw it,” Kemper replied.
“She was a hooker.”
“No, she was a professional escort.”
“Same difference.”
“I think she danced at the club more than she turned tricks on a street corner.” A beat later, he said, “From what I read there, Kit, she was more or less going home with clients. I don’t think she worked for a pimp.”
“What?” Kit screeched, tossing aside a feedlot bill. “You act like this is somehow okay!”
“Did I say that? No. All I’m saying is that I think Holly spent more time giving lap dances than puckering up for blow jobs on Kitty Kat Alley.”
“I should hope so!”
“I don’t know,” Kemper taunted him. “Come to think of it, that lap dance I enjoyed the first night we met was so intense, I wanted to break the house rules, unzip, and slide right in.”
“Well, seeing as we’re housing a woman who’s been around the block, I don’t think she would’ve objected to the advances if you’d decided to penetrate her in public.”
Kemper liked that idea. In fact, they’d never performed in front of an audience, and public sex acts appealed to him. Exhibitionism had always been one of his dirtiest hard-core fantasies.
“She could’ve slept with hundreds of men for all we know.” Immediately, Kit somewhat retracted his statement. “Then again, maybe she didn’t fuck that many fellas.” He bowed his head and looked ashamed of himself.
“She may have been a little loose at one time, but who cares, Kit? I mean, really? We weren’t taking her home to momma.”
“That’s because we don’t have a mother anymore, you moron!” Kit yelled.
“We never had one to speak of best I remember,” Kemper reminded him. “Why are you being so rough on Holly anyway?”
“I’m not,” Kit replied. “I’m encouraging her to leave so I won’t tear her down.”
“Hmm,” Kemper drawled. “What a nice parting gift. If she goes quietly, you’ll let her walk away without ripping apart her self-esteem. Imagine that.”