Chapter 8

Dalton

Goddamn, did I need a shot of Jack.

And a cold shower.

Followed closely by another round of Jack, with a beer chaser.

Yes, it had been that kind of day.

The first shot of Jack would be a digestive to the information that had poured out of Devolin, going a long way to explain why she was the person that she was. Fuck, but with all that she’d told me, I found it damn near impossible to ignore that innate urge to protect her. She’d been through so much.

The cold shower, would be for the fact that the woman was a wet dream come true for me. Sweet, innocent, funny as all hell, and somehow, despite being slightly socially awkward according to her, she had so much sass and sarcasm that it made her all the more endearing. Regardless of those girlie flannel pajamas of hers, my cock still flew at full mast throughout most of the afternoon. Despite the full coverage, those cutesy things did nothing to hide her curves. It had been a decadent kind of pain, even if inappropriate. I was there as a friend and perhaps, if luck was on my side, an eventual boss. Not to pick up.

As for the second shot of Jack and its beer chaser, that was to help me figure out how I was going to deal with the slew of unanswered calls and texts I’d received throughout the day from her.

This her being my ex-fiancée: Suzanna.

The bitch I thought I’d finally been rid of for the last six months, even though we’d been over for nearly five years now.

On that thought, I pulled into my drive, only to come up short when I spotted Skylar’s car in the guest parking spot.

What the fuck?

I parked in front of the garage, turned the key, then pulled it out of the ignition. It was just my luck that Skylar would need me for something.

Just like your stepmother needed your dad for everything. No. That wasn’t it. Skylar never asked me for anything. Not before. Not now. And I didn’t expect that to change in the future. If anything, I’d always appointed myself as her protector when she least wanted it. Skylar had always been the queen-of-sticky-situations, but she’d also been an expert at getting out of said situations on her own. So it shocked me to see that she’d come to see me, let alone, had helped herself in with the key I’d given her five years ago, when I retired from the army and bought this house.

Maybe she’s here about Devolin.

That made sense.

With that thought, I stormed the front steps and let myself in, shouting out, “Sky?” The scent of fried steak and sautéed mushrooms assaulted me from the threshold.

“In the kitchen!” I heard, followed by the crash-bang of pots and pans and the sizzling of searing meat.

I entered the kitchen and let out a groan of pleasure. “Goddamn that smells good.” Then I dropped my phone on the counter and made a beeline for the liquor hutch, pulling out my trusty bottle of Jack Daniels, along with two tumblers.

Pouring myself two fingers, I lifted the glass to my lips and downed it before doing it again and filling the second glass along with it. The perk of having your sister in your house, unannounced no less, is that the need for a cold shower was curtailed.

I turned to find Skylar sporting that assessing gaze our father always gave me. I swear, she had more of Hank Kippers in her than I ever did.

As I slid the extra tumbler toward my vegetable chopping sister, her head came back up. “Rough one?” she stated more than inquired.

“You could say that,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair and giving her a pointed look. “I, uh…”

Her eyes held a knowing glint. “She laid it all out for you, didn’t she?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Skylar let her knife drop to the counter and picked up the cutting board, swiping the green onions, radishes, tomatoes, and celery onto the mixed greens in the bowl next to her, before taking a sip of the drink I’d poured her. Then she turned to the stove and turned the steaks off, shoving the pan in the oven before facing me again, leaning onto the island counter on her elbows.

“Heavy, isn’t it?”

No words sufficed to express the weight Devolin had held on her shoulders, with very limited support, so I nodded as she studied me.

“The steaks have another ten minutes to finish, why don’t you go wash up?” Having encroached on my property, she read me like a book, knowing all too well that I needed a moment to myself.

Leaving my phone on the counter, I headed for my bedroom to freshen up.

“She’s calling you!” Skylar shrieked, my phone in her upheld hand as I came back from the bathroom ten minutes later. “What the hell does that bitch want?”

“Let it go, Sky,” I warned.

“You want to know how many times this,” she waved my phone in the air, “went off while you were cleaning up?” She didn’t wait for my response. “Five fucking times! Five!”

“What would you have me do, Sky? She’s calling NSI’s number; it’s not like I can change it.”

She set the phone down on the counter, then reached to start loading our plates with food. “You’ve talked to her?” She paused in her task to peer at me.

“I’ve tried that and I thought it worked, but I guess it didn’t stick.” I went to the fridge, pulling two beers out, and popping their tops off. “I’ll put Shane on it,” I assured her, as I set our drinks on the table.

“I’d slap a restraining order on that woman so fast her head would spin,” she grumbled.

“So,” I wiped at my mouth with the napkin, my plate now empty. “We’ve talked about my work, yours, how Dad’s doing, but you’re leaving something out and I’m itching to know.”

Skylar shoved her last bite of steak in her mouth, an effort to stall the conversation. It was something she did all the time as we grew up, particularly when she knew she was in trouble and our father would question her.

My gaze narrowed. “What’s this visit about, sis?”

She swallowed her food, her jaw clenching before she proceeded. “Devolin’s going home,” she whispered.

“I know. In about a week, it looks like.”

Skylar’s grin was so contagious, I felt my lips tug upward. “Tell me you’re hiring her, D. You can’t have spent nearly an entire day with her, and not—”

“Uh, Sky?” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “We didn’t exactly discuss work.”

My sister’s brows furrowed. “You didn’t?”

We hadn’t.

When I said that I’d learned all about what made Devolin the person she was, I meant it. My mettle was tested when I enlisted with the Rangers. Hers had been tested at the tender age of eight. Relentlessly.