“You haven't been answering my calls.”
“So you knew I might not answer the door?” She shrugs, her attention shifting to Blake.
“Going to introduce me?” She gives Blake an innocent smile. One that used to even fool me. “I am, after all, your little sister.”
I do the only thing I can think to do. I slam the door in her face. It feels good too. Too bad I can’t keep it that way.
CHAPTER 17
BLAKE
I f I had to choose between my cousins and Reese, I’m picking Reese, so it’s a no-brainer that I’ve got her back over her sister, who I’ve never met. Reese seems surprised by this.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t let my sister in?”
I don’t want Reese thinking I feel sorry for her because I don’t. She’s not someone I pity, but I do think it’s wrong that no one’s had her back before.
“Nope.” I crouch down and give Henry some fresh water. “I figure you’ll tell me if you want to tell me.” Henry allows me to pat him on the head once before jerking away from my touch. “Look. I think Henry and I are going to be best buds.”
There’s a loud thump at the door.
“I should let her in,” Reese sighs.
“Only if you want.” I give Henry one more pat, which he tolerates, and then straighten up. Reese looks like she needs a few pats. I pull her up against my frame and push her face against my chest. “You don’t have to open the door to anyone—except for me, of course—but even if your mama was on the front porch knocking, you’re under no obligation to answer it.”
“I have to let my mom in,” she mumbles.
I spread my big hand wide and rub her back in long, soothing motions. She sinks into me, allowing me to stroke away her tension. Then the pounding starts again.
With a heavy sigh, she pushes out of my embrace and trudges over to the door. While she’s letting her sister in, I hunt around for some booze. I think Reese is going to need it. There’s a bottle of tequila that is mostly full and a half-empty bottle of better branded vodka. I opt for the tequila because I don’t mind cheap booze, and her sister doesn’t seem worthy of the better stuff.
“I’m Angel,” says the blonde. She sticks out her hand, but since I’m carrying a bottle and three glasses, all I can do is give her a chin nod.
“Howdy. Blake. You want ice with your drink, baby?”
“We’re drinking?” Reese arches an eyebrow.
I bend down and give her a quick kiss on her temple so that Angel and anyone else she’s reporting to knows what’s going on here in Edison. “Company’s here. Can’t go wrong with a little libation when we’ve got guests.”
“We?” This time it’s Angel’s turn to look surprised.
Reese clears her throat and slides me a look that says she’s not sure how to respond. We haven’t gotten around to giving each other titles and shit like that, so I see where her hesitancy comes from.
“I’m her man,” I say. “You want a half or full glass?”
“Oh, I’m a full glass sort of person,” Angel simpers.
“I’m a full glass, too, but for other reasons,” Reese says quietly. I’m not sure if that’s for my ears only, but I can’t stop a small grin from breaking out.
Family can be the very devil. My dad used to fight with my uncles about every other Sunday on topics from whether the rain was going to be five inches or three, whether the old Cowboys were better than the new ones, or whether Stetsons should be worn in the house or hung up at the door. Dad was a Stetson everywhere enthusiast. He probably wore the damned thing to bed. I pour three full glasses of tequila and distribute to the ladies before taking a seat on the sofa next to Reese. She seems tense. I press my leg against hers and stretch my arm across the back of the sofa behind her so she knows that I’m here.
“I can’t believe you already have a man in your life, Reese. You didn’t breathe one word of that.” Angel smiles at me. “I’d bring you right home to Mama.”
Reese stiffens. “You should know why I haven’t brought Blake home.”
I drop my hand to the middle of her back and stroke her in long, soothing motions. Under my palm, I can feel her taking deep breaths.
“Oh my God, Reesy. I’ve apologized a million times. Bobby caught me at a low moment. I was feeling down and had a little too much to drink. He said that you didn’t love him anymore and—” She throws up her hands, having run out of excuses.
“It’s Robert’s fault? Because he says you were the one throwing yourself at him, not wearing any clothes, showing up at his apartment with a wig on, looking like me.”