“Everything. What does family mean for you? I know your dad but what else? Brothers? Sisters?”
I shake my head. “Just me and Dad. My mom died in California. She moved there when I was really small. Maybe Dad would have liked more kids but he just got me, for better or worse.”
Reid grabs my hand. “Better,” he says. “Trust me. He’s lucky to have you.”
“He is,” I agree, grinning. “I put up with a lot of shit other daughters wouldn’t, believe me. But he’s been there for me, raised me on his own. These last few years, he just sort of, went a little wild. Mid-life crisis I guess. I know he loves me. Not everyone can say that.”
“You’re right, not everyone can,” he says on a sharp inhale that makes me want to soothe whatever the heaviness is he’s carrying. “Me and Stacie, our dad left and our mom died. I stepped up when my dad left, then, stepped up higher when Mom...Stacie needed me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, because I am. I meant what I said, I feel lucky to have had my dad there, doubly so when I hear about others who haven’t been so fortunate.
“But what do you mean, you’ve put up with a lot of shit?”
“Oh, nothing serious. I shouldn’t have said that. Like I said, I know he loves me.”
“But?” He draws his eyebrows together, and I suddenly feel scrutinized. It makes me shiver slightly, but for some reason it draws out the truth.
“Just, my business, really.” I tell him, thinking about the meeting I have waiting for me tomorrow. My accountant is going to go through the books with me, look at where we can cut things back, or if not…discuss filing for bankruptcy. “When I first started it up, I was only nineteen. It feels like a lifetime ago, not two years… Anyway, I didn’t know what I was doing with taxes and raising capital and hiring staff. When it started to do well, my dad talked me into letting him help with all that stuff. He’s been in the business world way longer than me, it’s just…”
I meet his eyes, wondering why I’m telling him this. I don’t know a thing about him, and here I am bad-mouthing my father to him. Where’s my family loyalty?
Although, Reid is family, isn’t he? He’s my brother. That’s what brother-in-law means, right?
Does that make the kissing even more wrong? And even hotter?
A little squeak escapes my lips as a trickle of hot liquid seeps out between my thighs, joining the many others from earlier tonight that are all Reid’s responsibility.
“Are you okay?”
I nod quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. “Mmm hmm.” The spinning is back, faster. Faster.
Faster.
“You need some air?”
I shake my head, talking to cover my embarrassment. “Dad has all these ideas. Things that he insists are going to make him rich, get him all the money in the world, put him on a par with, I don’t know, Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk. But they never do. They always end up leaving him with more and more debt. It’s gotten worse over the years. When I was seventeen, he was kind of successful, had his own little business fixing up people’s computers. Then he invested that money.” I do hand quotes. “And it’s been spiraling down from there. You know how he met your sister?”
Reid nods. “They were both in Vegas. Stacie likes to play the slots but she usually sticks to a limit.”
“Yes, I’m sure she likes to play the slots,” I say, feeling my eyes roll before I can stop them. “Honestly, more power to her, I mean that, especially if she can stop before she hands over the house keys. But my dad? He doesn’t gamble like that. Calls it a fool’s game. No, he gambles on business ventures. He was in Las Vegas for some conference for the next hottest thing. He’s a named partner in my business and he keeps spending the company’s profits on these mad schemes that never come to anything. It’s probably illegal and the fact I know about it probably makes me responsible somehow. We’ll have adjoining cells.”
“How much do you need?” he says, his mouth set in a line. Jaw muscles flexing. I know what he’s thinking. It’s the same as my accountant is thinking and the same as I’m thinking. I should cut him loose. But I’m not even sure how to do that without going to the police and hanging him out to dry, and at the very least, it would involve lawyers and he would end up hating me.
I sigh. “What? Are you going to pull it out of your wallet? What do you even do, anyway? How did you get those scars?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back.