Low Down & Dirty Read online

  Lay Low. I huff at the irony. And just like that, my sister’s caustic instructions come back to me. Under no circumstances am I to lay Low.

  I hop out and meet the girl on the porch. The tension streaming from her is palpable, but she’s beautiful. Damn beautiful, and for a second my mind plays tricks on me, and I want to believe she’s a barfly I picked up for a one-night stand. Now that would be a happy ending to this nightmare of an evening.

  She scoots her tiny little body in close, and the faint scent of her sweet perfume lights up my senses. It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone of the female persuasion this close, smelling this good—this irate at me to boot.

  “I bet you want to carry me over the threshold, don’t you?” she snips, those eyes of hers wild with rage once again.

  “No, sweetheart, I don’t.” A brief smile comes to my lips as I examine her under the soft glow of the porch light. Her lips are pleasantly round and protruding, and something about the way she’s pouting makes me want to lean in and press my mouth over hers. I’ve never been the caveman type, but there’s a part of me that wants to toss her onto the couch and teach her a lesson with every inch of my body.

  I give a hard blink before snapping to. I blame my caveman mentality on the fact the only time I’ve had a hot chick back at my place was to do just that.

  I open the door and extend my hand, and she jumps inside, her heels clacking over the hardwood floors as if she were evading a serial killer.

  “Oh my God!” she marvels as the lights blink on throughout the place. “It’s so homey and cute!”

  “If homey is code for small, then you guessed it.”

  “I thought for sure you were going to pull into one of those huge mansions. I’ve never been to The Hills. I’m a Friar’s Corner girl myself.” She wrinkles her nose at the impoverished locale, and oddly it makes me like her just a little. I would have bet good money on the fact she was a Hills’ girl. Most of the kids at Whitney Briggs come from serious money, and judging by how impeccable she looks, her obstinate behavior, I would never have pegged her for a Friar’s Corner girl.

  “No mansion here. Sorry to disappoint. You can take the room on the right. I’m at the far end. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” I growl out the words a little harsher than I meant to. Tonight has been a mindfuck. This entire last year has been a mindfuck. It’s impossible for me to wrap my head around any of it, and it’s turned me into a beast.

  “Stay out of your way?” She shakes her head, her voice tinged with that sarcastic inflection she doles out so generously. “My, aren’t you charming? You get many panties dropping with that tone? Or is this beast routine something special you’re pulling from the Disney drawer just for me?” Her tiny fists embed themselves into her hips, and that scowl makes her ten times cuter than she was to begin with, but my blood is boiling once again because she’s crawling right back under my skin.

  “I’m only this charming to you, sweetheart. To everyone else, I’m simply an asshole.” I should know. I’ve had both Meredith and my brother tell me that to my face over a dozen times in the last few months.

  “Wow.” Her eyes round out like golf balls as she takes a step in. “First, I’m not your sweetheart. And secondly, here I thought you’d be just as sweet and fun-loving as your baby sis, but you’re about as welcoming as an orangutan with his dick on fire!”

  My chest rumbles with a dry laugh as I step in close until we’re nearly nose-to-nose. “Honey, if I were an orangutan with my dick on fire, you would be the last person I’d expect help from. You’d probably douse me with gasoline and we’d both incinerate.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She hops back with surprise. “Are you calling me a jinx?” Those long lashes of hers engage in a series of rapid blinks, and I swear I feel the breeze.

  “I didn’t have to.” My arms fold across my chest as if putting up a barrier. “You did it for me.”

  “AARGH!” she screams in my face before bolting down the hall and into my bedroom with a slam of the door.

  “Your other right, sweetheart!” I shout after her, and she bounces out of my room and hightails it across the hall before slamming yet another door and sending its echo throughout the tiny little house. It’s the bathroom, but this time she doesn’t bother coming out.

  I’m suddenly wishing this were any one of those mega mansions that line the street in this neighborhood.

  God knows this house is far too small for the two of us.

  Two weeks plod by with Harlow, Low, and me doing the avoidance dance. She bakes up a storm, same warm, sweet chocolate brownies day after delicious day. I’m all too familiar with those brownies because she always leaves me a plate with tiny signs that read Try me!, Eat me, I’m delicious!, and Chocolate is proven to add years to a lifespan regardless of the fact you’re a sourpuss! I had to chuckle at that last one. But, overall, it’s been a sweet, albeit unspoken gesture. I’ve come home to see her in action a few times and couldn’t help but note she’s got the same song playing on a loop—“Key Largo”. Something about its sweet backbeat is charming, just like her. She reminds me so much of Raven—all the best parts combined—and yet I’m not feeling brotherly toward her at all. But other than the brownies, we can’t seem to find any common ground. We’re still essentially strangers, just like we were the first day we met, or should I say since the day I had her arrested. If I see her coming, I’m going—and vice versa.

  But on this groggy, gray Sunday morning, we both happen to bump into one another at the coffee maker, me in my sweats and her in a pair of hot pink silk pj’s that swish like magic with each step she takes and bare feet with bright pink painted toenails that look like candy. Her hair is piled on her head in a messy bun, and her mascara is slightly smudged, giving her that sexy as all hell morning after look. Her nipples pierce through that silky top like pencil erasers, and I try my damnedest to keep my eyes above her neck. But she’s beautiful and she’s glowing with that I’ve just been fucked look in her eyes, and dear God help me because it feels as if I’m falling back down that rabbit hole I swore I’d never get near again for the rest of my life. Low is pulling me in, whether or not she knows it, by the balls, by the heart, and every last part of me is trying to convince itself I’m unwilling.

  “Did you have a guest last night?” I regret the words the second they leave my lips. I move quickly to get a mug from the cabinet before she decks me and pull out two instead.

  “Excuse me?” Her voice pitches in a way that assures me I’ve all but set the house on fire.

  I hand her a mug, and she plucks it rather aggressively while mouthing a brisk thank you through a scowl.

  “I just thought, you know. You look like you might have had a guest. You’ve got nice pj’s on, and you’ve got that look.” Crap. It’s like I’m fishing for trouble. And hell, I might be. Trouble would be more action in this house than I’ve had for weeks.

  She sucks in a hard breath, assuring me I’ve gone too far. I take it it’s too late to backtrack the hell out of this conversation.

  She steps into me, and I back up a notch. Her eyes squint into mine with an accusation before she ever opens her mouth. “Are you saying I look like I got fucked last night?”

  Crap. I try to make a break for the coffee maker, but she steps in front of me, blocking me off at the pass.

  Our eyes lock for a moment. Her features pinch to a genuine look of rage, her skin piques as pink as her nightshirt, and her entire face radiates with a sharp beauty that takes my breath away.

  “No, no.” I wince as I try to deny my way out of it, but we both know it’s too late for that. “I just—you know, you’re glowing. It’s a good look on you. Don’t get me wrong.”

  “Wow.” She lets out an incredulous huff. “I don’t know who made you the panty police, but no, I did not have a guest in my bedroom—or my vagina last night.”

  Panty police? Vagina?

  “Not that I would mind.” I hold out the
coffeepot, and she hesitantly allows me to fill her mug. “You can do as you please. It’s kind of nice having someone else around. Please feel free to help yourself to whatever I have in the fridge or the pantry.”

  “Oh my God!” she barks so loud I nearly burn the shit out of myself as the coffee licks my hand. “It’s because I ate that moldy oldie yogurt you had collecting fuzz in the back of the refrigerator, isn’t it? Well, I’m sorry, but I happened to have a hankering for spoiled dairy last night. I’ll be sure to restock your supply once it curdles in my closet for a couple of weeks!” The veins in her neck distend, and she’s leaning forward, hand on hip, neck swaying from side-to-side, and I can’t help but think she’s sexy as hell when she’s feisty—and she happens to be feisty all the damn time.

  “I promise you, I didn’t notice the yogurt.” I lift my hands in surrender. “And I’m sorry about the mold. Please only eat the food that hasn’t reached its expiration date. I’ll try to clean out the fridge when I get a chance.” I offer a peaceable smile, and her face explodes from a rosy pink to beet red, bordering on pomegranate. It’s amazing how being nice to someone can set an ammunition factory shooting through their skull. I see it just about every day at the restaurant with its angry customers. Trying to defuse it is tantamount to dousing it in gasoline and then breathing fire, but something in me demands to light that fire.

  “Then this is about the rent!” Her hand flies in the air, and her coffee does a little dance along the rim of her mug. “I’ll have you know I’m this close to nailing down a paying job.” Her lips pull down to the side as if contesting the idea, and my mouth begs to cover them with mine. “And I promise you, each and every paycheck will be yours. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to vacate the premises asap.” She snarls my way with nostrils flaring, those marble green eyes red with rage. “And I’ll be sure to take all of my imaginary guests right along with me.” She leans in and sneers. “A girl is allowed to glow all on her own—and believe you me, buddy, I can make myself glow like a firefly.”

  On her own? As in she took care of business on her own? A smile twitches on my lips, but I don’t dare give it. Just the thought of her having all that fun just across the hall from me is enough to make my budding boner tick to life.

  “Gah!” She smacks her forehead with her palm. “That’s not what I meant! And don’t think for a minute I can’t see that perverted grin begging to take over!”

  “Look, why don’t you come by the restaurant tomorrow?” My shoulders slump, my chest decompresses as if throwing in the towel. Yes, she’s cantankerous, but she’s Raven’s friend—best friend apparently, and she has a need. “I’m hiring.”

  I wasn’t up until this moment, but I don’t mention it in the event it sets her off again. And judging by her track record—something as benign as good morning can send her off the rails.

  Her mouth flies open, her eyes widen as if I’ve just insulted her and I might have. She has a degree from WB. She’s probably not in the market for a waitressing gig down at the local—

  “I’ll be there.” She swallows hard as if trying to digest her pride. She glances down at my coffee a moment. “Would you like some creamer with that?”

  Our eyes latch onto one another. Her nipples dart out from the flimsy fabric of her nightshirt once again, and I can’t help but give a lazy smile. She’s hot and funny and conveniently trapped in my home. I’m still not sure if I should dock Raven a Christmas present or pen her a thank you. God knows I needed the distraction.

  “Is that a genuine question or an audition?”

  Her perky little lips twist in a bow. “Both.”

  A laugh rattles my chest, first one in weeks, and it feels damn good. Just as I’m about to tell her she’s got the job, my phone buzzes over the counter.

  There are some moments in life where you are certain you know what’s coming, and this is that moment for me. I let it ring over and over, my gaze falling upon it catatonic.

  “You want to get that?” Low’s voice comes out sweet, not laced with vinegar, the way I’ve known it to be.

  “I think I’ll let this one pass.” A moment later my phone pings, alerting me to the fact I’ve got a text. I head over and pick it up, roll it over in my hands, heavy as lead, and my body goes numb as I read the words.

  “Everything okay?” Low steps over softly as if not wanting to wake me from a dream. It’s more of a nightmare really.

  “Everything’s great.” I twitch my phone at her. “It was my mother. It seems my wife had her baby.”

  “Oh my God!” She struggles to land both her coffee and mine onto the counter. “You’re a dad! We’ve got to call Raven! What am I saying? I bet your mom called her, too. Oh, wow.” Her face brightens again. This time it’s all for me. “Congratulations! We got to get you to the hospital!” Her enthusiasm comes to an abrupt halt as she staggers back a bit. The pieces are falling into place, and none of them make sense. And I happen to agree with her on that point, too. “Wait a minute. You look like you’ve just had your entrails shoved down your throat. Is there a reason you’re not thrilled about the news? I mean, your wife just had a baby. I get that she’s not here. It doesn’t take a Mensa member to figure out there’s trouble in paradise—but a baby. I mean, you’re a dad now.”

  “No.” A dry smile pushes from me briefly. “I’m not the father. My brother is.”

  All the Dirty Details

  Harlow

  “Your brother?”

  I hold my breath a moment, and he gives the slightest hint of a nod. He’s had those sad puppy dog eyes sealed over mine the second we started the caffeine tango, and now if coffee and creamer were the only things we had to worry about.

  “Does Raven know?” Good God! I feel as if I’ve stepped on a landmine and an entire treasure trove of Masterson family secrets just took out the walls around me.

  “She knows.” His eyes close for a moment, hiding those blue lenses of his from the world oh so briefly. His phone burps back to life, and the two of us straighten as if it had the power to level this room once again. “It’s my mother.” He offers a sour smile to his phone. “She thinks it would be a great idea if I paid them a visit.”

  I suck in another quick breath. “Are you kidding me?” I growl it out, incredulous, as if it were my own family that had eaten bonker-cakes for breakfast.

  “I’m not kidding.” He holds the phone between us.

  Please come! It will be a great way to put the past behind you and show them you’re above all this. The baby is here, and you’ve moved on.

  “Well, in that case.” I give a little shrug up at his marbled frame.

  “In that case, what?” All of the sorrow he held a moment ago melts right off, quickly replaced with annoyance at the idea of me siding with the enemy, or at least his mother.

  “You should probably do it. My sister, Lisa, has had two kids, and believe you me when I tell you she keeps a running shit list of the ingrates she once called relatives that didn’t visit her on D-Day.” That’s totally true. But then, Lisa has a bit of a hostile nature, thus the fact I’ve withheld from her the tiny little detail that I’m living with a man—a married man to boot. She’d jump into her truck and hightail it right out of Friar’s Corner to commit a little felony before dinner. Levi here thinks he has it bad now, but once Lisa is through with him, he’ll be begging for a bed in that den of disease right alongside his ex and her new little ankle biter.

  “In that case”—he gives a slow blink and moans—“I’m quite possibly already on everybody’s shit list in town, so I don’t think it’d matter much.”

  “Sure, it does. Not only will they never get to lord the prenatal unit malfeasance over your head for the next eighteen years, but you’ll prove to them you’ve happily moved on. I think your mom is brilliant.”

  “Have you met my mother?” Those dark brows of his twitch, and my stomach twitches in turn right along with them. Wow. I have to admit that Raven looks damn hot as a man. What the hell is
up with his ex-wife, anyway? Why would she ever kick to the curb a beast like Levi? A wicked thought comes to me, and I shelf it for later.

  “No, technically, we’ve never met. I did see her from behind on move-in day freshman year, but that was before Raven and I actually knew one another, so an introduction wasn’t even on her mind. After that, she was sort of persona non grata.” Now it’s me wincing. “I mean that in the nicest way.”

  His chest trembles with a dry laugh. “You pegged it. She means well, though. And she’s trying harder than ever to pull our family back together. It’s just sort of a bigger job than she imagined.”

  “Raven is in Barbados this week.” I shrug as if apologizing for my inattentive bestie. She texted me this morning with a totally obscene picture of her tighty-whitey lineup, but I leave that lewd and more than slightly crude detail out of the conversation. The last thing poor Levi needs is a detailed account of his little sister’s newfound ball ogling hobby. Sure, she’s getting paid for the dirty endeavor but still, she’s a first-class pervert, and she knows it. “I know for a fact she would be championing for a Masterson reunion just as much as your mother if she were here.”

  “She very much is campaigning for just that.” He shakes his head in that wistful way that lets me know it’s useless. “And for that reason alone, I’m glad she’s out of town.” He glares out the window a moment as if he’s spotted that two-timing brother of his and he’s about to decapitate his little head and those two jingle bells dangling around its neck. “Chip and Mer aren’t really holding their breath for me to show up today. I can promise you, I’m the last thing on their mind.”