Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy 1)

“Which one, or more than one of them?”

“Sutton …”

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Tate and I were over before I graduated.”

“The brothers don’t fuck the same woman. I would go to Mick’s after The Last Riders were finished with me, and the Porters showed me a good time, bought me drinks, and danced with me. We had a lot of fun.”

Sutton had heard enough. She started to change the subject, but Cheryl had lost her reticence and gave more information than she wanted.

“Greer is too intense for me, and Dustin was too young …” Her voice trailed off. “I wouldn’t have touched Tate if I thought you still cared about him. It was only a couple of times. He made it plain it was just sex, he wasn’t going to get serious with me.”

“That was more than he did for me.” Sutton lifted her glass, draining it, then motioned for the waitress to bring her another.

“You and Tate?”

“No, we never had sex, only fooled around a little bit when we were dating.”

Cheryl blew out a relieved breath. “That’s good. I would hate to think it would cause a problem between you and him.”

“Why would it cause a problem? I don’t care whom he’s slept with in town.”

“He doesn’t do much sleeping,” she wisecracked, and Sutton wanted to throw her drink in the woman’s face. “I wonder which woman he’s holed up with while he’s hiding out from the cops. I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to hide at my place. I wonder if he’s still answering his phone.”

Sutton paid the waitress for the second round of drinks. Before she left, she ordered a screwdriver.

“I haven’t finished my first drink.”

Sutton lifted her glass toward her, giving an imaginary toast. “Then you need to catch up.”

Cheryl took a long drink. “I never turn down a free drink.”

“I bet you don’t turn many things down.” Sutton bit her lip, angry at herself. Why should she be angry at her for having sex with Tate?

“Turned down Jared,” Cheryl snickered. “Does it make me a bad person that I get a kick out of him knowing I’m fucking anything with a dick, and he can’t do a damn thing about it?”

“Cheryl, you shouldn’t be doing it if the only reason you are is to make Jared angry.”

“Did I tell you that Jared had a vasectomy, and he didn’t tell me? He didn’t want me or his mistresses to get pregnant. I tried for five years to get pregnant and was about to take fertility treatments, and he didn’t once open his fucking mouth.”

Sutton could see the anger and hurt Cheryl was trying to get out of her system. If sleeping with the men Jared had to come in contact with helped, then Sutton wasn’t about to throw any stones.

“Then, no, it doesn’t make you a bad person.” There was no pain worse than being cheated on by the one you love.

“I’m thinking of leaving Treepoint when I get enough money saved up.”

In Treepoint, it didn’t matter how many women men slept with, but a woman with multiple sexual partners was labeled with only one title—slut.

“It might help take away some of the resentment you’re feeling toward Jared.”

“You don’t by any chance need a roommate, do you?”

“I’m afraid I already have a roommate, and I don’t think you and Stella would hit it off. I have a couple of friends who are looking for another roommate, though. If you’re interested, I could give you their numbers.”

“I would appreciate it. If I find a roommate, then I could move sooner.”

Sutton took out her cell phone, sending her the two phone numbers. “I think you would have a lot in common with Kazzie and Soria.”

“I’ll call them tomorrow. Thanks, Sutton.”

“Don’t thank me until you talk to them. Are you sure you want to do this? All your family is here.”

“They haven’t had anything to do with me since The Last Riders, so I’m really not too concerned with what they have to say.”

Sutton shook her head. “It’s not going to be as easy to leave as you think. The mountains are hard to leave. They stay in your blood.”

“If you missed it so badly, why did you stay away so long?”

“I didn’t have anything to come back for.”

* * *

Sutton let herself into the dark house, locking the door behind her. She crossed the floor, bumping into the couch. Unable to help herself, she started giggling.

“I see you had a good time.” Tate’s voice came from the chair beside the couch.

“I did.” She grabbed on to the back of the couch to steady herself.

“You drove yourself home in this condition?”

“No, one of Cheryl’s friends gave us a ride.”

“Cheryl doesn’t have any friends. Who was it?”

“She does, too. I’m one, and some guy named Rider.”

“How did Rider drive you and Cheryl home? He rides a bike, and both you and Cheryl wouldn’t fit on it at the same time.”