Head On (Strength And Love)(10)

I did well. Really fucking well. Got selected for the Royal Marines, and from there the Special Boat Service. I miss it to this day. But I’d burned out. If I carried on it was only a matter of time before I fucked up. I got offered work when I left doing military stuff for private contractors but it didn’t appeal as it would have meant leaving Ann and Katie for long periods, so here I am. Fucking for cash. Marvellous.

I pull the car into the drive and kill the engine. Ann’s car is already parked up. I smile at the thought of seeing Katie in the morning, and go around to help Sadie and Isla out of the car. Isla blinks up at me in surprise when I offer her my hand. But she takes it and steps out onto the gravel. She looks at the house and back to me. “Nice. Sex for cash pays well.”

Her words piss me the fuck off. I grab her wrist but not hard. “Hey.”

She turns back to me.

“Don’t fucking talk about it in front of my sister.”

“She doesn’t know?”

I rein in my temper, because I’ve only just got her to trust me, but she’s winding me the fuck up. “Yes, she fucking knows. But she doesn’t like it, and I don’t want a lecture tonight. We’ll tell her you’re in some trouble and leave it at that. She doesn’t know the exact details of what I do.”

“You mean, she doesn’t know you pretend to be a rapist. You know, it’s a risky line of work. You could get framed doing that sort of thing.” She shoots me a sharp look, and I swear I don’t know if she is teasing or being a bitch. I can’t tell. This girl is hard to read at times.

Not many people can throw me off balance. Unsure how to take her remarks, I ignore them and head to the door. I push it open and see Ann sat at my kitchen table, a plate in front of her with olives, cheese, and crackers on it. A glass of wine sits to one side, and two drooling dogs watch her every move. The dogs spy Isla and Sadie and jump up. They run over and go crazy over me for a nano-second before heading over to Sadie and sizing up the new canine interloper.

Isla wanders into the kitchen and looks around. I wonder if she likes what she sees and then piss myself off for caring.

“Nice kitchen.” Her eyes are big and blue under the spotlights. A pale, cornflower blue, and it goes well with her light hair and the few freckles on her cheeks and nose. She’s pretty. Very pretty. Perfectly put together and neat, and all innocent looking.

I want to dirty her up.

Mess up her hair, make those eyes darken.

I push the thoughts away and shrug. “Thanks.”

“I’ve always wanted a house like this. A farmhouse out in the country, with a beautiful, big kitchen.”

“Figures.” I haul the bags in and put them by the door. “You probably want the white picket fence and brood of kids to go with it, right?”

She flinches. As if I slapped her or something. “You don’t know anything about me, or what I want.”

I don’t answer because she’s right. I don’t. I know she lives with Daddy. In a big, modern house full of blingy stuff. I know she dresses like something from a bygone era, and doesn’t wear much make-up, or sexy clothes, unlike most women of her age. And I know she’s a virgin. Which makes me think about getting her all dirty again, so I shut my mind off and stalk over to the coffee pot.

“I’m Ann.” My sister saves the day by getting up and going over to Isla. “You look like you need a drink. Something stronger than coffee.” She holds the wine up, but Isla shakes her head.

“I don’t drink, thanks.”

“You deeply religious?” I ask. Genuinely curious. It explains the no sex, no booze stuff.

She flushes and shakes her head. “No,” she snaps.

“Only asking.” I hold my hands up.

“Do you have decaf coffee?” she asks.

“Yeah. You into eating clean or something?”

“Or something.” She doesn’t elaborate.

“Come sit, Isla. That’s a pretty name.” Ann heads back to the table and pats the chair next to her.

She smiles and heads to sit next to my sister.

“You’re gorgeous, if you don’t mind me saying,” Ann says. “You ever thought about modelling?”

Isla shakes her head. “I couldn’t.”

“Oh, why?” Ann pushes the plate of nibbles toward Isla, but she puts a hand up in a no sign.

“I’ve some scars. I doubt they’d want me to model with those. And I’m not tall enough by a long shot.”

“They can cover things like scars up with make-up these days, and you could do beauty work anyway. Head shots and the like. Your hair is amazing too. Are you naturally blonde?”

Isla flushes and nods.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to give you the third degree. I worked as a make-up artist before I had my little terror, and I notice these things.”

“Do you still do make-up?” Isla asks.

Nibbling on a cracker, Ann considers her. “Only for friends as a favour. Weddings, and things like that. But I’m considering getting back into it at some point soon, part-time only. You got an event coming up or something, you want help with?”

“No.” Isla accepts the coffee I hand her. I’m about to ask if she wants sugar, but she sips as is and makes a happy sigh, so I shut my mouth and let her carry on with what she was saying. “My mum died when I was younger though, and I’ve never worn make-up as I didn’t have anyone to learn from. My friends don’t wear it, so it’s not something I’ve tried. But Mum used to wear it, and I’ve always wanted to give it a go. My regime is a coat of mascara and some lip balm.”