DOTTY (The Naughty Ones Book 3) (2 page)

Do What You Have To

Paul

The view from the seventy-second floor where my office is situated in the building that’s been in my family for generations has always calmed and soothed me.

Except for today. As I look down and see the traffic cruise by like little dots of color and listen to Alex with half an ear, all I can do is clench my teeth and fists and try to ignore the anger building inside me.

“And now she’s running around trying to ignore us all while her poor mama is sick and her father’s trying to keep everything together. She’s selfish, man. Honestly I don’t know how I’m gonna handle having a selfish wife, especially when the only thing she’s really got going for her is that meek personality her father’s been telling me about for months.”

The little shit is so far off base it’s not even funny. Dot has got to be one of the sweetest, least selfish people I know. She’s always doing free benefits in the bad neighborhoods, and getting people to donate food so that her and that motley band of crazy women she calls friends can feed the less fortunate.

I’ve even delved into her financials, and from what I’ve seen I suspect she’s even been slipping her parents some money too. Not that those assholes need it, so why take from her in the first place?

And then there’s the stuff that she does in her free time. Just last month she knitted till her fingers bled to help the church with some charity drive they were hosting.

And what about the way she’s been working herself to the bone trying to keep up her end of the catering business that her and her friends run while also spending some afternoons and mornings with her mom, nursing her, reading to her, and running errands that I know others could be doing.

Dot doesn’t have a selfish, mean bone in her little body. Having this little ingrate say it makes me so angry I’ve had to resist knocking a tooth or six out of his smug little mouth.

As Alex’s cousin and his boss I have to keep that urge in check, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make him bleed for even thinking he could touch that pure little imp of a woman.

As if marrying her is a sacrifice!

What I wouldn’t give to have it in me to love another woman. Because she’d be perfect, I just know it. She’d love my mom and grandma and fit right into their little circle.

She’d be a loyal, good wife, and a fantastic mom who would shower her children with warmth and love.

And all that passion I see sparking behind her blue eyes…

Hell, just thinking about the down and dirty things I could do to little Dot makes my dick so hard it pounds behind my zipper.

“Don’t you have work to be doing? The Lynchcorp deal is just about sinking what with old man Lynch getting another investor.”

Not that I care. This deal has been Alex’s brainchild from the beginning, and though I saw the cons to it right from the start I let him at it, hoping that he’d fuck it up so much the board would be forced to step in.

Can’t fire the little punk and still keep Aunt Mave in my good books, but maybe if the board comes to the table and does all the dirty work I can finally be rid of the ass.

“Dude, that shit’s in the bag.” He laughs, waving it off like it’s nothing when we both know that’s far from true.

He’s sweating, I can see that as I turn around and take him in silently. And his smile is tense as he leans back and pretends a nonchalance that’s going to work to my advantage.

“Fine. But I still have work to do.”

“Come on, Paulie! I need help here, man. Old man Harper is on my ass to get Dorothea in line and Dad’s been riding me too. Dorothea likes you, I’ve seen how she doesn’t run from you. Give me a hand here and just talk to her. Talk me up a little, ya know? I need an in with that ice-cold woman.”

Which is one of the things I have yet to understand. As far as I can see, the Harpers don’t have a thing that Alex and his dad could want. They’re upper middle class, sure, not struggling for money but in no way wealthy. They have a paid-off mortgage and a few investment bonds here and there, nothing major.

So why go after Dot? What could they possibly want from this marriage? I know this little asshole; he’s about as ready for commitment as I am.

The only difference is that I fully admit to my lack of balls in that arena, while he just thinks it’s a fucking joke.

“I’ll help you with her. I’ll go talk to her about this…stuff if you tell me what the hell is going on. Don’t try and spin me some family obligation shit. We both know you’d rather get kicked in the groin than get tied down right now. So tell me, what is it that you and those old fucks have cooking?”

My agenda is twofold. I need to know what they’re up to and I also want to get to her again without having to explain myself to anyone. Somehow I don’t think me just showing up and taking her out would be smiled upon. She also never fucking came back to me and that’s sticking in my craw.

It’s the first time I’ve ever come on to a woman and not had her melting for me.

Interesting.

“Nothing, man, I swear. You know the whole story. The great-grandparents made a deal yonks ago. Great-Grampa Summers floated the Harpers when their business was going under and all they wanted was for two of the leading families from England to join ranks. Call it a mixing of the bloodlines or some shit. Whatever. All I know is Dad made it clear this is my duty, and as far as the Harpers are concerned she’s already in the bag.”

Not if I’ve got anything to say about it
, I think, watching him squirm beneath my unblinking stare.

“You expect me to believe that shit?”

“What? Yeah! It’s true.”

My ass.

My dad is the bastard son of Elisha Summers, the great dead patriarch of our illustrious clan.

When Grandpops found out he’d knocked up the little waitress he’d banged while on business, he did what he had to do and paid Grandma off to keep away from his family.

Grammy is the least mercenary soul I ever met, but the woman was no fool. She knew she couldn’t provide a decent life for her child, so she took all that money and settled in a small town just outside New York, as far away from the Summers clan as she could get.

By the time my pop was fifteen he was well aware of his parentage, and let’s just say the man did not appreciate it when his father turned up spouting some shit about legal heirs and the like.

Instead he told him to kiss his ass and went on with life, going so far as to join the military and then a few years later meeting my mom, the love of his life.

My old man was a great guy, but he was never one for backup plans. When he died in battle, leaving mom alone and knocked up, barely making ends meet…

Let’s just say that when the Summers family arrived on the scene she had two choices: fight a court battle or buckle down and move in with the asses so her kid could have a good life.

Mom moved us in, along with Grandma Pen, and that’s how the son of a bastard became the heir to the Summers throne.

Of course I always knew what was cooking beneath the polished surface of this life. If I’m honest, I’ve always hated this shit. And my family.

Sure the money and all the perks that come along with it are great, but I’m not a suit and I never will be. I spent summers with Grammy’s brother, my uncle Jim, working his ranch down in Wyoming and learning all there is to know about that life.

I love the peace and the hard work and the freedom that comes with being a steward of the land. It’s been my dream since I was old enough to shovel cow shit and mend fences and I will have it.

I just have to complete the plans I’ve set into motion since I got out of college and took over the business. You say revenge is best served cold?

This shit will be un-thawable by the time I serve it up on that silver platter to these fools.

I spent my childhood with my grandfather pushing me to within my limits while his wife sneered at me and never let me forget that I’m nothing but an interloper.

I could deal with that shit just fine, but what I could never deal with was when they discovered I had every intention of taking off and going down to Texas when I was free of the contract Mom had signed when I was born.

According to them I was theirs till the age of twenty-two, by which time the old man thought I’d be one of them and ready to take over his legacy.

They convinced me to stick around by buying up the mortgage on Jim’s ranch and threatening to sell it off.

I was trapped and ready to kill but I did it because in the end family is family. Hell, I went a little wild after that and partied as hard as a twenty-two-year old could and ended up with a girl I thought I loved more than anything else.

Sarah was beautiful, smart, one of the daughters of a family friend, and everything I thought I wanted. I fell hard and fast and started making plans for the future.

When she confessed to not wanting to move out to the boonies and smell cow shit all day I got over my need for the life I really wanted and instead actually tried to make the one I had work.

When she started talking about marriage, I bought her the biggest ring I could find and popped the question.

I was young, in love and so naïve that I get mad just thinking about it now.

No one ever knew why I dropped her so hard and fast, and if I was anything at all like the man I was before meeting her, I would have made a scene and beat the shit out of Alex and humiliated Sarah publicly.

But I now am the product of years of knowing, and I’ve learned that good things come to those who wait. So instead of losing my shit when I came home early to find my cousin banging my fiancée, I quietly closed the door and started planning.

In the ten years since I’ve bought my own land, I’ve started slowly but surely dismantling the business.

It’s a slow process selling it off while keeping the family in the dark, but I’ve got the patience to do it and I’m almost there.

All I need to do now, before the shoe drops, is make Alex wish he was never born. Simple. Satisfying…

Not easy.

Because the ass doesn’t care about a damn thing as far as I can tell.

Till now. Till Dot and whatever scheme the old men have going.

              “I’ll talk to her but don’t blame me if she doesn’t go for it. Dorothea doesn’t strike me as a pushover, no matter what that father of hers says,” I warn.

“Thanks, man. You don’t know what you’ll be doing for me.”

“My pleasure,” I say, smiling for the first time since he invaded my space.

Dirty Dancing

Dot

The smell of exhaust fumes and sweat lies heavy in the air as I hustle my way towards the church, trying to avoid the foot traffic and the grumbles floating around me.

It’s been another day of hopeless arguing on my part as Mother cried and Father glared at me. After that treat I still had to go to work and make four hundred mini quiches and a boatload of gateau slices for Indie and Percy to take to tonight’s dinner party, another of Althea’s and one of the reasons that I actually made my share of the rent this month without dipping into my steadily dwindling savings again.

Tonight’s my night off, but I just couldn’t face the thought of an empty apartment so here I am, clutching two trays of the “flopped” quiches that are still good but a little skew and overdone since I was so lost in thought I almost burnt two batches.

Not that the people at the church will complain. They’ll just thank me and act as if this is the biggest thing in the world. Boy, I sure wish my own parents could be this way, seeing as I’ve gone out of my way to cook dinner for them almost every night on top of everything else I’ve been juggling.

At times like these I wish I lived somewhere completely different, and that I didn’t have to schedule my entire life down to the minute.

It would be nice to wake up after the sun rises and do something that makes me happy. Not that the business doesn’t make me happy, because I love cooking. I just wish I could cook for people who appreciate it instead of snooty rich people who think food is art.

Food is food. To be enjoyed and bring people together. It shouldn’t be a freaking test the entire time. What I wouldn’t give to cook good home-cooked food, like buttery biscuits and simple roasts.

Most of all I always thought that by the time I hit thirty I’d have a family to cook for and love, people who’d eat my meals and be grateful for the little things I did for them, like knit sweaters and use my special blend of aromatherapy fabric softeners on their clothes.

When I think that I have to marry Alex Summers and attend those snooty rich parties for the rest of my life while my children go off to some boarding school, I get a case of the hives and feel a meltdown coming on.

“Oh there you are, girlie. Took you long enough. I’ve had to talk to these old fools almost twenty minutes waiting on your ass.”

My eyes roll at Gruffy’s greeting when I hustle into the church basement and drop the trays on a table before going over to kiss her hello.

“Sorry, Gruff, I had to stop by my parents’ house and make sure the food was ready before I could get here, and then the freaking cabs weren’t stopping and I practically had to walk the whole way.”

“Nonsense! Why are you over in that hellhole anyway? I heard what Percy was saying when they came over for Thursday dinner and I don’t like it one bit, girlie. Those leaches aren’t going to give you the time of day when you tell them you won’t marry that boy. You’re setting yourself up for hurt there,” she barks, waving her cane at me threateningly.

“Gruff.”

“What’s the big need to have a happy family all of a sudden anyway? Me and the girls not enough for you?” she asks and I cringe when the hurt in her eyes shines through.

How to a tell her that I love them enough to let my family go but not quite enough all at the same time? The Naughty Ones and Gruffy have been my family for years when I had no one and nothing. Most of the time if I wanted a decent meal or company it was the girls and Gruffy who were there for me.

              “Gruffy, it’s not about that. You know I love you and the girls so much I’d kill for any one of you,” I say softly, sitting down beside her as the other ladies mill about gossiping and drinking tea while scarfing my offerings.

“Then what? Talk to me, girlie. You’ve been a ghost, floating around the last few months, and anytime someone so much as questions you, you go off the deep end. That ain’t you, Dotty. You’ve always been happy and bubbly and while I know that your neurotic personality can lead to some mighty unpleasant spells, I also know that it’s just because you care so much. I haven’t seen that in you before and it’s not right. When’s the last time you came over for family dinner or even called one of Callie’s dads to find out if they’re okay?”

She’s right. I haven’t been to a dinner since Jack and Callie had us all over after the quads were born. For that matter, I haven’t so much as called Luci to find out how they all are now that she’s taken some extra time for her family.

“I’ll call them. I just haven’t had all that much time lately, Gruff. Luci isn’t in all that much, and Callie and Jack are also MIA since two weeks ago.”

Gruffy huffs and I dodge her cane when she goes to whack me on the head with the damn thing. The old goat has a killer left swing with it, and I’ve had my fair share of bruises when she doesn’t get an answer she wants.

“Because you’re cooking supper for those assholes, looking after that mother of yours and running yourself ragged, girl. Your parents can afford their own help without turning you into the fucking maid service!”

“Oh, Gruff, you dropped the F-bomb.”

“So? Jackie says if you need to say it you need to say it. It’s true, ain’t it?”

“But I can do it,” I protest.

“Why should you, though? You’re exhausted and you look like shit, no offense. When’s the last time you washed that carrot top of yours and watched one of them movies you and Callie like so much?”

Not in forever. Heck, most nights it’s all I can do to fall face-first into the mattress.

I feel like a freaking zombie nowadays.

              “You’re right, Gruffy.”

What else can I say? I’ve been snapping at my friends and family, avoiding them at every turn even though I live with two of them, and I’ve let myself go to the point that I can’t even remember if I brushed my teeth this morning.

“Good. First step in fixing a problem is admitting you got one. Now go home, bathe your cute butt, and relax, Dot. I want you to do something you like for once and go to bed and get some actual sleep. Percy already told me she’s gonna force you to take three weeks to yourself or she’s firing your ass, so you have time to just breathe. Go home, turn off your phone, and let it all go for now. And for God’s sake, do not go back to your parents’ place until you’ve got it in your head to give them a firm no!”

That last part is said with a swift hit to my kneecap and I’m cursing and rubbing at the offended spot.

“Sonofabitch, Gruffy! That fucking hurt.”

“Good.” She cackles as the other woman and the priest all glare at me and sniff. “The next one will be to your thick skull unless you wise up, girl. Quickly.”

“I can’t take time off now. Luci is still out and Callie’s been sick.”

“She’s pregnant again, you fool. You just don’t know it because the girl’s been too afraid to tell you. They’ve all spoken and Jack hired one of them fancy chefs to step in and help the girls while you’re off. Now! Go home.”

I plant a kiss on her cheek, dodging another cane attack and take off for the door before she can gain her feet. Old bird is way sprier than anyone really knows, and I know that she’ll hook me a good one again if I let her.

Somehow, maybe because I just came out of the church and God feels sorry for me, I do manage to grab a cab and I make it home to the empty apartment by half past eight.

My first order of business is a long bath. I go all out on this and shave everything that’s been going jungle on me for the past few weeks.

By the time I’m scrubbed, buffed, and smooth I feel a hundred times better and I even enjoy some wine with a plate of gnocchi before pouring another glass, grabbing a bar of dark chocolate and putting on
Dirty Dancing
.

I’m just getting into Patrick’s teaching skills and the chemistry between the two when the door rattles beneath a hard fist.

It’s probably Mr. Engels from 4B coming to complain that the surround sound is too loud again, but honestly, the remote is like an alien entity and I have no clue how to set the volume down after Indie purposely set it up to gnaw at his ass.

“I don’t know how to set it down so just leave me alone! You can kiss my ass,” I yell, yanking the door open with a curse.

The next words die right in my throat, and I croak when I look up to see brown eyes looking down at me, filled with amusement.

              All I can do is stare open-mouthed as Paul Summers looks down at me, the corners of his lips twitching with humor as I blink and lick my lips.

“I’d like to.”

“I-I…what are you doing here?” I manage to say as my brain starts going a mile a minute and things down south start heating in a way that is just wrong.

But so right.

Paul just smiles and seems to get more amused as he shoves his hands in his pants pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“Invite me in, Dot.”

Well that is the worst idea in the world
, I think, even as I close my mouth and step back, opening the door wider for him to stride past me and into the apartment.

The place isn’t small and it makes me proud to see him step in and take stock of the clean, well-decorated space. It costs a shit ton to live in this building, but with me, Indie, and Percy pulling for rent, and with my economy when it comes to cooking, we get along really well.

“Nice place,” he drawls, his eye catching one of the few watercolors I saved and gifted to Percy. “I like this.”

He leans closer to inspect the little A4 painting and takes in the view of the bay. I sketched it one day while a storm was rolling in and used a lot of dark colors and startling blues on the water as a contrast.

I’m no artist, though. I just paint sometimes to relax myself, something I picked up in the early days after Luci joined our group. My colors aren’t all realistic, I know that. I used darks to show the tempest brewing ahead but made the water a sapphire blue to show the beauty of the scene.

“Thank you.”

“It’s yours?” he asks, peeking at the name and turning to me with a smile.

I feel so awkward standing here in raggedy sleep shorts and an off-the-shoulder old sweater that’s destined for the rag pile as he straightens and takes a seat, obviously settling in for a comfortable night.

He’s so suave and sophisticated, while I just washed my hair for the first time this week.

              “Talk to me Dot.”

“What about?” I ask, taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa and turning to face him, my legs drawn up in front of me to hide the state of my nipples from his too observant eyes.

“Come on, baby. You know what about. I thought you were going to set them straight about the wedding.”

“I tried. They wouldn’t listen.”

His mouth purses and he sits back, slinging an arm across the back of the sofa as he regards me for long, tense minutes.

“Did you say it loud enough, Dot? Did you scream it at them and refuse to be ignored, or did you avoid another argument and whisper it like I’ve seen you do countless times before?”

He’s judging me? He doesn’t even fucking know me, Goddammit! How dare he come in here, into my home, and judge me on the one night that I’d convinced myself to just let it all go?

I need a break from it all, just one measly freaking minute to breathe and forget that I’m a pitiful idiot who’s still so hung up on her neglectful parents that she’s turned into a doormat for the last few months.

“You don’t understand,” I grit out, willing the anger back into the little box deep inside me.

My spells usually start this way, with me having to regulate my breathing and force the calm that I don’t feel to envelop me. Having one of those now, so close on the heels of the last and in front of this man is not something I think I can’t take at the moment.

I’m already enough of a wreck, and I can’t stand the thought of someone so put together and perfect seeing yet another weakness in me.

Not this man. He’s so sexy with all that dark hair and eyes the color of my favorite chocolate, and God have mercy, have I even mentioned that he’s big, toned, and has the face of a fallen angel?

He’s freaking perfect, one of those hot men you see up on a billboard and have to look away from in case you wreck the car while staring.

The first time I saw him enter Mother and Father’s house I had to swallow repeatedly to stop myself from drooling, and don’t even get me started on the blushing, stammering mess I was when I had to shake his hand and instead got a kiss to the back of it.

Almost melted, swear to God.

“I do.”

Anger engulfs me because how the hell could he? He’s got the perfect life with money and scads of women panting after him—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Manwhore.

And he’s got freedom. Most of all he’s free to do just what he wants because he’s so freaking perfect. Who the hell would ever go against a word he said?

Hell, he probably hasn’t ever had to fight a battle in his perfect life and has the perfect family and—

“I see that my statement pissed you off.” He laughs, turning to sling one leg across the sofa and face me, looking amused, relaxed, and so lickable I have to bite my tongue to keep it in my mouth.