Never had he worried Emmaline might be the one to step out of bounds. Naively, he had thought the most illicit thing to take place in his sister’s bedroom was a game of Ouija.
Nolan was a caretaker. That’s who he was . . . what he did. He had a duty to protect his mom, Savannah, and especially right now, Emmaline—even if that meant protecting her from herself and her bad decisions.
His chest pinched with discomfort because Hayden was also starting to bring forth that protective urge in him. He felt this misplaced longing to look after Hayden, too—even if she wasn’t family and she seemed the complete opposite of vulnerable. Even if she didn’t want or need his help.
She didn’t want or need his help. That’s what he needed to remember. Emmaline was his priority and she was obviously going through something.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned his attention to the girl at the center of it all—Hayden Vargas.
This is all her fault. The thought flew through his mind even as he knew it was unfair. He wanted to blame someone.
When had Hayden agreed to tutor his sister? Had she agreed after he’d spent the night with her and then asked her to keep quiet about it? He knew he’d insulted her. If he could take back the words, he would, but it was done. Had Hayden leaped at the opportunity to tutor his sister knowing it would get under his skin?
He knew he was being irrational, but Emmaline had hired her. His little sister thought she was somehow lacking and needed to engage the services of Hayden Vargas to help her be more . . . more. He didn’t even know what. Enticing? Sexy?
This was his sister. He didn’t want people talking about her the same way they did Hayden.
If it were left at just this—Emmaline kissing her friends in the safety of her bedroom—he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t worry.
But he did worry.
Evidently this was some kind of practice run. Emmaline wanted to take her newfound kissing skills and try them out there in the world.
Well, that scared the hell out of him. He knew how the minds of teenage guys worked. Hell, a lot of grown men weren’t any better.
He’d heard things come out of his coaches’ mouths that would scandalize his gray-haired grandmother. His own mother would probably reconsider letting him play sports if she knew.
He spent plenty of time in the locker room. He knew how boys could be. He knew what “boys will be boys” really meant. It was just an excuse for bad behavior, for guys to be predators, and he wanted to protect his sister from that and offer her advice and guidance, just like their dad would want.
Not all guys were like that, of course. He knew this reaction was more to do with his own fears. Yeah, he was being overprotective, but he wanted his sister to be safe.
“Can I speak to you? Alone?” he asked Hayden.
She eyed him warily but nodded.
He turned and led her from Emmaline’s room into his bedroom across the hall. Once they were in his room, he shut the door and faced her.
“How much?” he asked calmly, keeping a careful distance between them.
She looked confused. “How much what?”
“How much is my sister paying you?”
“Oh. That.” She squared her shoulders and took her time answering, as though weighing whether or not she was about to reveal something she shouldn’t. Did she view herself as some kind of a professional? Did kissing gurus operate under a code of confidentiality? “Seventy dollars. For tonight.”
He nodded. “Okay then. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars to walk away.”
“Excuse me?” She uncrossed her arms.
“Hundred dollars to forget about my sister and these lessons.”
She shook her head. “You’re that scared of your sister coming into her own?”
“She’s not coming into her own . . . you’re teaching her to be—”
“To be what?” she challenged, her voice hard, angry.
“You’re teaching her to be like you.” That was fair to say. They’d all admitted as much as that to him.
She laughed harshly. “So you’re afraid I’m going to turn your sister into a slut.”
It wasn’t the first time she flung that word at him, but it was still jarring. It was an ugly word and he’d never explicitly applied it to any girl. He lived among females. He had more respect for women than that, but he heard the word all the time. At school. In the locker room. At parties. He heard it and just carried on as though it didn’t matter. He was starting to realize passivity could still be part of the problem. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t say it. I didn’t think it.”
She crossed her arms again and looked at him in distrust. “I know guys like you, either from school or the neighborhood or creeping around my mom . . . ‘nice guys’—they act like they’re so different, but I know what’s in their heads. And I know what’s in your head.”
“You don’t know my mind. Maybe you’re used to that . . . to guys that think that way, but I’m not one of them.”
She stared at him blandly, looking unimpressed.
Sighing, he reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. He wasn’t trying to persuade Hayden Vargas to like him—and the quickest way of making her put her guard up was by insisting he “wasn’t like other guys.” Words weren’t much if actions didn’t back them up.
Again, this wasn’t about him. This was about what was going on with Emmaline.
He continued, “These guys you know? The ones who think some girls are sluts? Is that who you’re getting my sister ready for?” She flinched and he knew he had hit a truth even she hadn’t considered until he said the words. “Has it occurred to you that my sister flying under the radar in high school might not be a bad thing?”
“Has it occurred to you that you should let her make her own choices, her own mistakes?”
He scoffed. “Don’t act like you’re looking out for her interests when you’re doing this for money. Your reasons are totally selfish.”
“And you’re not being selfish?” she charged, stabbing a finger in his direction.
“Not in this, I’m not. I’m thinking of Emmaline.”
“Really?” she mocked. “You haven’t considered yourself at all? You’re not embarrassed for your sister to hang out with a skank like me? That potential shame hasn’t crossed your mind? Isn’t that the same embarrassment you felt waking up at my house? Isn’t that why you asked me to keep it quiet?”
Nolan inhaled a breath for patience. “It’s not like that. And would you stop calling yourself names and then laying them at my feet like I’ve said them?”
She stepped closer, her voice dropping. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Nolan?”
Yes. Yes, she did.
“Of course not.”
“Admit it. What bothers you so much is my reputation . . . and that I might taint your sister, and, thereby, taint you.”
“No,” he said calmly, holding his ground as she eased up to him, her body brushing his.
He jerked back a step.
She angled her head sharply, her expression equal parts curious and cunning, with a face free of makeup. This close, he could see a faint smudge of mascara edging her top and bottom lashes, the only remnant after her time spent in the pool. It made her look human. Vulnerable. Somewhat at odds with the tough energy she exuded. She inched much too close to him.