New Year's Eve

Joe raised an eyebrow. “This guy sounds clueless.”

“Oh, and does not like rejection,” I replied. “Bitter little man. When I turned him down, he called me a frigid bitch.”

To my surprise, Joe’s face darkened with anger and his voice was rough as he bit out, “He what?”

I blinked at the dangerous bite to his tone. “It’s cool, Joe. I don’t have to see him again.”

He took a deep pull of his beer, but I could see his grip on the bottle was tight with residual annoyance.

“It was just a name. I’ve been treated to worse. Sexual harassment isn’t a new thing.”

Wrong thing to say.

He cut me a dark look. “You think it’s okay to just put up with that shit?”

I reached out to squeeze his arm in reassurance, pretending not to delight in how hard the muscle was beneath my fingers. “No, of course not. And I don’t. Joe, I’m good.” I retreated after his gaze flickered down to where I was touching him. “You know I can handle myself.”

“Doesn’t mean you should have to. This is the problem with being freelance.” He turned toward me and I could feel a familiar lecture coming on. “You don’t have the protection of a company behind you when you have to deal with these kinds of guys.”

I sighed. “A company might not do anything about it. In fact, they might tell me to suck it up and deal with it. Whereas, I can say, ‘Hey, I don’t put up with bullshit misogynism or sexual harassment. Find another sustainability advisor. M’kay.” I grinned, tossing my hair playfully.

His eyes flickered to the movement and then back to me. His tension eased a little. “Anyone does anything to you that crosses the line, I want to know.”

A part of me thrilled at his protectiveness.

The other part of me feared it.

It wasn’t wise to rely on someone to feel safe, loved and protected. If they went away, by choice or not by choice, they suddenly left you without that sense of home.

And Joe was off limits.

There was no way I could let myself rely on him. I’d only end up hurt.

“I can take care of myself,” I reiterated, but gave him a small smile so I didn’t sound harsh.

“And what I’m saying is that you don’t need to take care of yourself all the time. You have a family.”

Ugh. That was a bucket of cold water if ever I needed one.

Joe was family.

Looking away, I took a sip of beer and decided it wasn’t strong enough after all. “You know, I think I’ll take that whiskey now.”

And that was my last vivid memory from the party.

I got drunk.

I got drunk, and I remembered moving closer to Joe on that couch as we chatted the evening away. But the memories after were vague. Blurry.

Except for the memory of me kissing him.

Joe had gone into the house for something.

I followed.

I kissed him.

I couldn’t remember much about the kiss at all, only that it was probably short because I remembered Joe gently removing me from his person and handing me off to Shaw to sober me up. Thankfully, she didn’t know about the kiss.

That kiss. Selfish. Irresponsible. And stupid.

Joe was my brother-in-law’s father.

He was sixteen years older than me.

And I was not his type.

I was independent; I was strong; I was focused.

I didn’t need anyone to look after me or protect me, and everyone who knew Joe knew that’s what he got off on.

I also wasn’t a petite, dark-haired beauty.

That was fine.

I liked who I was, even if I wasn’t for Joe.

Rejection stung, though.

And I didn’t want to face Joe for the first time after the week I’d had.

I was not in the headspace for that.

So it was good he wouldn’t be at Lake Tahoe.

I could lick my literal and metaphorical wounds while I spent my favorite time of year with my favorite person in a beautiful place far, far away from the scene of the crime.

And maybe I’d even get some sleep.

Bliss!

Chapter 2

JOE

I knew that stubborn glint in my son’s eyes.

I was pretty sure he’d gotten that glint from me.

Wiping the sweat off my face with a nearby towel, I stepped back from the punching bag that hung from the ceiling in my office and waited for my son to say whatever it was he’d come down here to say.

The whir of engines and buzzing of tools could be heard in the distance, dulling to a muffle as Dex closed my office door.

I kept my primary office in the first garage I’d opened near the college. It was five minutes from the house I’d raised Dex near the McKinley Park area. Five minutes from California State and five minutes from an apartment that belonged to the greatest temptation that had ever been put in front of me.

Hell.

I knew why Dex was here.