Smart, Sexy and Secretive (The Reed Brothers 2)

I jump up and start putting my clothes on. I’ve been in some funny situations before, but this one is the most worrisome. This wasn’t how I wanted to meet them. I wanted to be dressed nicely, shaved, and looking like someone who could be good for their daughter. I pull my thermal shirt over my head and grit my teeth.

Fuck. I guess I’ll have to make the best of it.

I jump into my jeans, and Emily rushes to the bathroom to brush the snags out of her hair. I get dressed all the way down to my shoes because I want to have shoes on to meet her parents. One of my socks is missing, but I don’t have time to look for it. I follow her and squirt some of her toothpaste onto my finger so I can “brush” my teeth. I run my finger over my teeth, and she grins at me over her toothbrush.

I spit and rinse my mouth out, and she does the same. She darts past me, but I wrap my arm around her waist and drag her back to me. She’s only halfway protesting as she laughs against my lips.

Behave yourself, she scolds.

She puts on a pot of coffee, and I stand there with a cup under the spout instead of the pot, and I replace it with the empty pot and rush to the kitchen table as soon as it’s full. I open her newspaper and turn quickly to the word search. I fill it up with words that will make it look like I’ve been working on it for quite some time.

My pencil is poised over the newspaper when her parents walk in the door.

Did they even knock? I sign to Emily.

She shakes her head and winces. Thank God Henry called.

Her father raises his eyebrow as soon as he sees me at the table. Then his eyes narrow, and he stares at me. His eyes take in my tats, which go all the way up my neck and down to my wrists. I never want to hide them, and in truth, his perusal makes me want to pull my sleeves back so he can see every last one. But something tells me he won’t be impressed.

“Mom. Dad.” Emily motions toward me. “This is Logan.” She motions back toward them. She’s signing while she talks, and I kind of wish she’d stop.

Her mother rushes forward. “Logan, darling,” she gushes. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

My heart leaps at the thought that Emily talked about me while she was gone. Maybe she longed for me the same way I longed for her. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” I say as I stick out my hand.

She bypasses it and wraps her arms around me. She squeezes me tightly and doesn’t let go for a moment. Then she steps back, her hands still on my upper arms. She squeezes. “Goodness, you’re a solid lump of man, aren’t you?” she says, smiling. She winks at me. “I can see why Emily is so enamored.”

Heat creeps up my face.

Emily’s dad shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. He nods at me, and I think he grunts. I wouldn’t know if any sound came out of his mouth, but I can tell he just made a noise. One that would dismiss me if I could hear it.

I stick my hand out toward him. “Mr. Madison,” I say.

Begrudgingly, he reaches for my hand and takes it in a firm grip. I force myself not to squeeze back when he tightens his grip in warning. Instead, I take it. I let him be in control because he’s her father for f**k’s sake. I don’t like it, but I take it.

“Logan came to have breakfast with us,” Emily rushes to say. She puts her hands on top of ours and pries her father’s fingers back. He lets her. I shake the pain out of my hand when he releases it.

He takes in the crease still etched on her cheek and her lack of makeup. “I’m certain he did,” her father says.

Her mother drops bags of pastries, bagels, and assorted other breakfast foods on the table. Emily starts to unpack the bags, bouncing up on her toes as she does. She’s padding around in socks, and I can’t help but remember that one of my own socks is missing. I walk into the living room where I see it sticking out of one of the couch cushions. I pocket it quickly, shoving it in the pocket of my hoodie. Her mother follows me into the room and grins at me, then shakes her finger. “You’re not leaving are you?”

Not on your life. “No, Mrs. Madison,” I say. “I was just looking for something.”

She narrows her eyes. “Did you find it?” She’s asking me about more than just my missing sock, I think.

I cough into my closed fist to clear my throat, which suddenly has a lump in it. I don’t know why. “Yes, ma’am.”

She arches an eyebrow at me, prompting me to continue.

“I have everything I need now that Emily’s back.” I look her in the eye.

“Stay strong,” she says. Then she winks at me. She startles and looks toward the door.

Emily comes from around the corner, her eyes narrowed. Her dad stands behind her smirking. Someone must have knocked on the door. She rushes to it, looks through the peephole, and steps back, muttering to herself. I can’t quite read her lips.

Emily opens the door, and a man brushes past her. He’s wearing a button-down shirt, a tie, and kicks that cost more than my monthly rent. He puts down his suitcase, shakes hands with Mr. Madison, and turns to Emily. He starts toward her, his arms outstretched. I step forward to get between them, but Mrs. Madison grabs my arm. “Don’t,” she warns. “This will work itself out.”

Emily lets him pull her into an embrace, but she doesn’t hug him back. She cringes instead. This warms my heart.

She looks over at me, and I see something I don’t quite understand in her gaze. Is it pity? For me? Is she afraid I can’t compete with this man? Who the hell is he, anyway?