Free Step Brother: Off Limits by Jayna King Page B

things up for Donald. He’s been really good to me, and I feel responsible for protecting him, as strange as that sounds.”
    I couldn’t believe it, but Stanford Boyle actually sounded kind of sweet. “So you think she’s stealing it?”
    “She’s got to be stealing at least some of it. Maybe some to pay off the voting booth guy and some to squirrel away for a rainy day.”
    “So we have to find out the truth.” I wasn’t sure how to go about that.
    “Or,” Stanford said, a wicked grin appearing on his face, “we could set her up to do something so awful that Donald would kick her out. Divorce her.”
    “Oh my God, that’s evil,” I said. “I love it.”
    Stanford and I were so deep in the middle of plotting how to orchestrate Tina’s demise that I didn’t even hear the front door open.
    “Hey, babe.”
    Garrett’s voice scared the hell out of me, and after I peeled myself off the ceiling, I introduced him to Stanford.
    “Um, nice to meet you,” Stanford said, conspicuously avoiding eye contact with Garrett.
    “Good Lord, honey, you need a shower.”
    “It’s just good clean sweat, Tatum. You’d remember how good it feels if you hadn’t been avoiding me and your bootcamp classes.” Garrett smiled at Stanford, as if he was including him in a private joke.
    “Whatever.” I waved him off. “I’ve missed one class, asshole.”
    “That’s how it starts,” Garrett warned, before turning his attention to Stanford. “So how do you and Tatum know one another?”
    Stanford stuttered his reply. “I … um … I work for Tatum’s father.” He looked at his phone. “I need to get back to work. Talk to you later?” he asked, looking for all the world like a caged animal desperate to escape.
    “Absolutely. We have lots of work to do.”
    “Yeah,” he said, darting out the door without another word.
    I looked over at Garrett, dumbfounded. “I have no idea what got into him.”
    Garrett laughed. “He’s clearly overwhelmed by his attraction to me.”
    I punched him in the arm. “Get outta here.”
    Garrett stopped laughing. “I’m serious, Tatum. Don’t tell me he’s not out.”
    “Stanford’s not gay, Garrett. For God’s sake, he’s hit on me more times than I can count.”
    “Girl, how many times do I have to prove to you that your gaydar is shit? That boy is gay. Whether he knows it or not, he’s gay.”
    “No way, man. He’s all buttoned up. And he’s a Republican, for crying out loud.”
    “Maybe in a log cabin,” Garrett said as he left the kitchen and headed down the hall. “Definitely gay.”
    I shook my head as I heard the water turn on in Garrett’s bathroom. Could he be right about Stanford?

7 -- Reed
    I rolled over and picked up my phone to check the time. The light from the screen hurt my eyes in the darkened hotel room, and I was surprised to see how late it was.
    “Shit.” My mouth tasted like I’d made bad decisions the night before, and I fumbled around the nightstand hoping to find a bottle of water. No luck. I picked up the phone instead. “Coffee, water, and aspirin,” I said to the woman who answered the room service extension. She’d answered in French, of course, since we were in Paris, but I assumed she spoke English.
    I hung up and lay back, eyes closed, trying to sort out the tangle of thoughts in my head. My dreams had been flashes of ink, porn stars, music, and Tatum.
    Tatum.
    The last time I’d talked to her, she’d seemed preoccupied. I looked at the necklace I’d bought her nearly every single day, and even though I knew I should have called her more frequently, I really was working hard. I wanted to get back to her, and with all the sex swirling around me, I needed her. I was jerking off more frequently than a fourteen-year-old, but I knew I needed a woman, and Tatum was the one I wanted. I’d kept my promise to her, but it hadn’t been easy. Nearly every woman working on the tour would have fucked me, my father, my friends, and