No Love Allowed(6)

“And you’re prime rib.”

“I see myself more like filet mignon,” he replied with a laugh. “And I’m fabulous.”

“That you are.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

But when Nathan sighed, Caleb knew he was in for some lecturing. He braced himself by sitting up and resting his elbow on the door frame so he could lean his thrumming temple against his fingertips. Closing his eyes and sending a silent prayer that his buzz would last, he gestured for his cousin to proceed with the flogging.

Instead Nathan said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyebrows rose. “What? Nothing on how I should stop dicking around and find a girl to settle down with?”

“Hell no. We’re way too young for that. I say Amber had it coming. You know I never liked her.”

Relief came on swift wings. Caleb would have taken a bullet for Nathan. Having him in his corner had saved him from the deep pit of misery the death of his mother had plunged him into that first year. Being an only child, Caleb hadn’t had anyone else to count on. At least Nathan had his sister Natasha and their parents. When Caleb’s father had traded common sense for defensive walls so impregnable he had no time for his kid, there had been days their fridge had nothing in it but cheese and ketchup. His uncle hadn’t hesitated to bring Caleb home like a stray pet after discovering what he was living on.

The twins and their friends had been responsible for keeping him sane. Saying he owed them was an understatement. Nathan and company had come to his rescue so many times he had stopped counting.

“I say good riddance,” Nathan added.

“Good to know,” Caleb mumbled as his eyes drifted to the rearview mirror, where he could see his Mustang, driven by their friend Preston, following closely.

“Speaking of filet mignon, let’s move on to better, more productive topics of conversation.”

At this, Caleb sat up, because he knew what that grin on his cousin’s face meant. His freedom. If he reached out, he could almost touch it. “I read your e-mail last night. The list of places is growing.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Nathan’s brow furrowed as he sent a scrutinizing glare Caleb’s way. “You asked for a European adventure, and I will give you the best damn European adventure any guy can have. I don’t do things half-assed.”

“Balls to the wall, and no looking back.”

“The continent won’t know what hit it. The Parker cousins are on their way.”

“I say a week per country and no less.”

Nathan tilted his head as if considering it, but Caleb knew better. “I say leave the option of extending to two in case we enjoy ourselves too much. The legal drinking age is eighteen, after all.”

Caleb threw his head back and howled. “I like the way you think.”

“Shame if you didn’t. We start in the UK, landing in London—”

“To say hello to the queen,” Caleb interrupted, feeling his excitement from the gut.

Nathan laughed. “That we will. Then we make our way up to Ireland and Scotland and make a U-turn back to London before France. . . .”

Twenty minutes into the trip planning, Nathan drove down the tree-lined driveway of their family estate. The stone monstrosity had been one of the original structures built during Dodge Cove’s infancy. The place had history, passed down to the eldest Parker child of every generation. This meant Caleb’s father took ownership of the sprawling property with its twenty bedrooms, multiple-function rooms, balconies, terraces, an expansive garden . . . Simply put, if the States had a Palace of Versailles, it would be the Parker Estate. To Caleb, the house was nothing more than a tomb.

Exhausted from all of Nathan’s big ideas, Caleb got out of the car and headed straight for the front door. He promised to give his cousin a call in the morning without looking back, while Preston eased the Mustang into the detached garage off to the side of the main building. Caleb needed a nap. Too much had already happened in the span of a handful of hours. He just wanted to sleep everything away and start fresh.

The sound of the front door closing echoed through the house. He didn’t move from the black-and-white-tiled foyer with its massive crystal chandelier. It took the staff a week to clean the thing—that was after his father rehired everyone he had fired the first few months after the funeral. Caleb closed his eyes and waited. He ignored the usual sounds of activity the staff made—maids cleaning, the butler puttering about, the gardeners cutting grass—and focused on the sounds his father would make. A barked command or the shuffling of papers or the clomping of expensive shoes on marble. When a minute passed with nothing, hope that his father was spending another late night at the firm blossomed in his chest. He let another minute pass before actually making a run for the curved staircase to the second floor.

He was halfway up when the words “Caleb, get in here!” stopped him.

Tight fists at his sides and shoulders heavy, he cursed under his breath every step of the way to his father’s study. Of course the bastard wouldn’t have been anywhere else. From the iciness of his tone, it seemed his father wasn’t having the best day either. Great. What could the man want?

The door to the home office was ajar. Beyond it he imagined where Jordan Joseph “JJ” Parker, Esq. would be. Probably behind his desk. It was the barrier that had defined their relationship over the years. The hunk of wood had been passed down too, from his father’s father all the way back to the first Parker. Caleb had played underneath it while JJ worked, sometimes even falling asleep at the man’s feet. Now he hated it with a passion.