The Rake (Boston Belles 4)

She hopped down from the desk and scampered as far away from me as possible in the tiny office. I could tell she didn’t want me to stay during this conversation, which naturally made me find an even more comfortable spot so I could listen carefully.

“Yes. I’m doing good, thank you. And yourself?” she asked curtly.

I was surprised with how pliant and polite she sounded. How completely not herself. There was no hint of the fireball who teased me a second ago.

She stopped in front of a batch of pictures pinned to a corkboard by her window, fingering the colorful pins absently. It looked to be her family members, though I couldn’t see from afar.

“Now’s a good time. Why? Did something happen?” she asked.

There was a pause while she listened to the person on the other line then answered with an uncomfortable laugh. “Yes, well, tell her I accept her invitation. What wine should I bring?”

Pause.

“Yes, I’m sure everything is fine. I’m just at work.”

Pause.

“Busy.”

Pause.

“I bought you all the fishing supplies. No, you don’t have to pay me back. We’re family. I’ll bring them when I come.”

Something about her exchange with the mysterious person made my blood turn into ice. She sounded foreign, far away. She shed her personality like a snake before picking up the call.

She finally hung up, rearranging her hair distractedly.

“Who was that?”

“My dad.” She made her way to the door, flinging it open. She tilted her head in its direction. “Out.”

“Are your parents still together?” I asked, in no hurry to vacate my spot behind her desk. I’d met them at a few family functions, such as Cillian and Persy’s wedding and the christenings of their sons, but I never paid close attention to either one of them. They were, indeed, as dull as their daughter was extraordinary.

“Happily.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “But that’s another story, to be told to someone I’m actually, you know, friends with. We’re done now, Devon. Get out.”

I took my sweet time standing up just to spite her, asking myself for the millionth time why I was doing this. Yes, she was stunning, intelligent, and strong-willed. But she was also utterly horrible to me and any other man I’d ever come across. There was no thawing her. Even when we were physically together, she was so far away she might as well have been on the moon.

“His marriage might be happy, but his daughter isn’t whenever he calls her,” I said, strolling toward the door.

Belle pounced over to the threshold, blocking my way out. A venomous, pained smile touched her lips.

“Aw, Devvie. I forgot to say no family talk.”

Grinning—she really shouldn’t have pushed me—I turned around and walked over to the pinboard, squinting to take a better look at it. Digging into people’s Achilles heels until they screamed the truth was my specialty. I didn’t want to do that to her—she was not a client—but Belle was also a woman who knew how to push all my buttons. And there weren’t many.

My suspicion proved to be right.

Emmabelle had pictures of all of her family members: her mother, her sister, her nephews, and even some photos of that redheaded banshee she called a friend—Sailor.

But not one of her father.

“The daddy issue theory is getting warmer, Sweven,” I said on my way to the door.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not the only one with daddy issues. You seem a little too glad your father passed.”

“Party’s tomorrow night. Wear something fun,” I quipped back.

“Wowza. I’m no fortune teller, but I see a lot of therapy in your future, dude.”

“I’m perfectly fine with how I turned out. You, however, have a big, fat secret, Emmabelle, and make no mistakes. I’m going to uncover it.”

As always, she slammed the door the minute I was out of it.

As always, I laughed.

It was only when I got back home that I noticed Belle’s payback for my stuffing her cleavage with a cold drink.

All in all, it was a lovely little surprise.

A used pair of lady knickers stuffed in the front pocket of my slacks.

Sitting at my study, I tugged it out, grinning at the pink lacey fabric. I leaned back in my recliner, throwing my head back, giving it a hearty sniff. I draped the undies over my head and groaned with pleasure, getting a stiffy, when a note fell from them.

I picked it up.

Hey Dev,

You just sniffed my best friend, Ross’ balls.

Hope you enjoyed.

—Sweven

Fourteen Years Old.

“Gross.”

I announce to the universe, because honestly, it is. Watching your parents making out in the front seat of their Honda Accord Wagon like two teenagers is next level cringe.

Persy doesn’t seem to share the sentiment, sighing romantically beside me in the back seat. “Let them be.”

“Nah, your sister’s right. There’s a time and a place for everything, and this ain’t it.” Dad pulls away from Mom, dropping one last kiss on her shoulder before putting his hands where I can see them—on the steering wheel.