Dirty Uncle

And hell, she’s sleeping.

With a sigh, I go to the kitchen door and—blocking the sight of my naked niece—I open it and find my two friends milling by the couch. Shit. They heard every second of what happened and they’re going to want some kind of explanation. My instinct is to tell them to mind their own business, but if they heard Clara struggling and fighting me, I don’t want these good friends of mine thinking I done her dirty.

Didn’t you, though? Aren’t you?

I clear my throat. “Get me a blanket, would you?”

Rudy tosses me an afghan that’s settled over the back of a loveseat. A minute later, I pass through the living room with a blanket-wrapped Clara, her face tucked trustingly into my chest.

“Can we eat now?” Rudy asks, wincing when Hank punches him in the shoulder. “What?”

Chapter Nine

Clara

Dancers make the best eavesdroppers, because we’re light on our feet. The three men in the living room don’t even hear me coming down the hallway, especially over the noisy television. They’re watching some survivalist reality show and nursing beers, frankly looking kind of uncomfortable with each other. Rex is lounged back in a leather easy chair, his two friends spaced out on the nearby couch.

My attention travels back to Rex and I have to cover my mouth so they won’t hear my dreamy sigh. Holy moly. He gets more irresistible every time I see him. In the old white T-shirt he’s wearing, I can finally see his tattoos. They rake down his arm in spikes and brushes of bluish green. The material of the shirt is thinner than his usual flannel, so I can see patterns of his chest hair underneath, more tattoos sneaking out over the neckline.

He doesn’t have a flat stomach or six-pack abs. Not like the girls in my dance school never stop talking about. No, he’s got a big barrel chest that drops to a real man’s waist. Thick but powerful. Sturdy. He’s a tank with thighs to match and they’re barely contained inside dark blue jeans.

As I watch, he lifts the bottle of beer to his lips, draining half of it with one gulp, the slide of his Adam’s apple making me ticklish between my thighs. I don’t even remember falling asleep after…after Rex used his mouth on me there. But God, how embarrassing. Seriously. Who just passes out on a table?

I didn’t even satisfy him.

My gaze drops to the bulge in Rex’s lap. Did he touch himself when I wasn’t awake to do it myself? If he did, I’m going to throw another tantrum. Throwing my fit in the kitchen felt…good, actually. I’ve always been polite and mild mannered, but there’s something about Rex that fills me with static energy. Makes me want to lash out and be a brat, just so he’ll take over. Take control of me. Touch me.

“All right,” Rex says, slapping a hand down on the arm of the chair. I fade further into the hallway, pressing my back against the wall. “Let’s get this shit over with so you can stop acting like a couple of scandalized church ladies. Say what you have to say.”

“She really your niece?” asks the skinny, red-headed man. “That’s some serious shit, Rex.”

“Step-niece. My new sister-in-law’s kid,” Rex answers in a grim voice, hoisting his beer bottle for another swig. “Met her for the first time a few days ago. By the time I knew we were related—”

“You’d already baited the trap,” says the second man, with a wise nod. “Hell, I’ve been there. Except mine was an undercover cop, not my niece.” He turns thoughtful. “Although, she was probably someone’s niece.”

“Jesus, Hank. Shut up,” Rex mutters, setting down his beer. “This is…different.”

“Bet her daddy won’t think so.”

“Don’t call him that, Rudy,” Rex snaps, sitting forward in his chair. “He’s her stepfather. They ain’t close enough for him to be called Daddy.”

Rudy and Hank mimic each other, holding up their hands in surrender.

“How is it different than my undercover cop situation?” Hank asks, after a long pause. “You’re not fitting to keep her, are you?”

“Can’t.” A muscle jumps in Rex’s cheek. “Can’t do that. I’m a salty bastard like you two. I couldn’t make her happy. And hell, you seen her. She’s too young, too beautiful. I spend those fall months crabbing. You don’t think someone will steal her out from under me while I’m gone?”

“She’s a peach, all right,” Hank drawls. “You’d have to worry about those young bucks sniffing around.”

Rex sends him a murderous look. “I can say it. You can’t.”

Hank just appears confused. “Which part?”

“All of it.”

Rudy leans forward with a sigh. “The argument is irrelevant. She’s his niece. This kind of shit breaks up a family.” He tips back his beer, finishes it and sets it on the floor. “People will think it’s unnatural. And they won’t mind telling you. Telling her. Hurting her feelings and whatnot.”