Free The Care and Feeding of Unmarried Men by Christie Ridgway Page A

during the many social occasions they both routinely attended.
    But she was going to have to skip the parties.
    Sure, it would make it harder to do her work as a society columnist, but she figured that for the balance of the social season she could find plenty of people to dish about the events she missed. If not, then hell, she’d make up the details. Maybe it went against her journalistic ethics, but those were trumped by the single most important ethic her father had always emphasized: Look out for #1.
    Joey set down her coffee cup again. “Hey, I heard stuff about your monster truck man.”
    Eve’s gaze shot toward her little sister. “My what? Who?”
    â€œI asked one of the guys I golfed with yesterday. Knew all about him.”
    From the sly smile her sister was giving her, Eve realized she was expected to pump for the information. So instead, she picked up her latte and blew across the frothy top.
    Obviously annoyed, Joey narrowed her eyes but kept her lips firmly closed.
    Eve sipped at her drink, then used her napkin to blot her upper lip.
    Joey’s eyes became mere slits. She was fifteen seconds, max, away from bursting.
    Fifteen…fourteen…thir—
    â€œDon’t you want to know what I found out?”
    Eve shrugged. “If you want to tell me.” Of course Joey wanted to tell her. That was the secret to getting whatever one wished out of the youngest Caruso. She had absolutely zero supply of patience, so it usually took less than half-a-minute’s worth of cool nerve and the ability to hide a smile.
    â€œBitch,” Joey said, without heat.
    Now Eve did smile. “Amateur bitch.”
    It was just as well Téa wasn’t there. Calling each other names always agitated her. Which made Eve smile again, as she propped her elbow on the tabletop. “So tell me everything.”
    â€œHe wasn’t raised with little Miss Hollywood. She’s his half sister. When their father and the girl’s mom divorced, Dad took Nash, and Mom took the baby starlet.”
    Interesting. Some men might look upon the circumstances as a reason to break ties with the other side of his family, but it was obvious that Nash took his brotherly obligations seriously. “The Preacher,” she murmured to herself.
    â€œYep, that’s what they call him on the circuit,” Joey confirmed. “Not because he’s holding Sunday services or anything, but because unlike many others, he keeps out of jail on Saturday nights and does his best to keepthe younger guys out along with him. For a man in a high-octane sport, he likes to keep things low-key.”
    Well. The good ol’ boy was actually good. Now why did that make her positively itch to break some commandments with him? Which was so not a smart idea when she’d just decided to barricade herself inside the Kona Kai thanks to a “sudden illness.” Nash Cargill was barricaded on her same side of the fence, and it wasn’t the time for any manly distractions.
    And as if that thought had conjured up its own evidence, a voice sounded from behind her. “Ladies.”
    Eve froze. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the birds had stopped singing, clouds had passed over the sun, nearby blades of grass had flattened themselves against the earth.
    Joey’s gaze flicked over Eve’s head, then back to her coffee. “Wow, Nino. I didn’t know they opened the coffins this early in the morning.”
    Nino Farelle. Eve should have known he wouldn’t let her have the last—if unspoken—word last night by running out on him at the bar. Yesterday, he’d come to the Kona Kai expressly to see her, she’d known that. Expected it, actually, since the day she’d given up her condo and moved into the spa.
    Though Nino hadn’t been her boyfriend for almost a decade, whenever there was some change in her life—from a new haircut to a new lover to a new