Her family issues, of course.
He gave his father a vicious smile and fought the urge to shove the old man out of the way. “Do excuse me, Father.”
Nigel stepped aside. “Was just telling the ladies that we should go out for dinner some night this week. Vegas has some bloody decent restaurants. Maybe take in a show afterward. What do you say?”
Trevor splashed two fingers of single malt into a tumbler and took a healthy swallow. “I don’t know why you people continue to include me in your plans. If I wanted your company, I’d have invited you here. When did you say you were leaving again?”
Nigel just toasted him. “Cheers, Trev.”
Trevor ignored him and walked to the sofa. He dropped down beside Allie, his hip fitting snugly next to hers.
She pressed her lips together and glanced, not at him, but in the opposite direction, toward the mantel. “Do you mind? You’re in my personal space.”
He leaned toward her and whispered, “My cock was very much in your personal space last night. And you, darling, loved it.” That got her attention.
She swung her head toward him. “Shut up,” she said through clenched teeth.
“What’s going on? You two having a tiff?” Nigel propped himself on the armrest next to Mags.
“I think they are, darling. Trevor was very cross this morning.” Mags sipped her champagne, her eyes fluttering between them.
“It’s time to eat.” Trevor stood and offered his arm to Allie.
Glaring at him, she stood and slipped her arm through his. As they made their way to the table, Trevor leaned toward her. “I keep thinking about you, naked on the sofa. Shall we meet in the media room again this evening?”
“Fuck off,” she said, her voice so low he barely heard her.
“That’s exactly what I’m proposing.”
Once in the dining room, he pulled out her chair and took his own seat at the head of the table. Nigel seated Mags, and Arnold served the salad.
“Allie and I went shopping for the wedding today. Are you still thinking about kilts for you and Trevor, love?” Mags gazed up at Nigel.
“Haven’t decided. What do you think, Trev?”
Allie smiled at him. Her fake smile. The one that danced on his last nerve.
“I think you would look great in a kilt, Trev.” She turned to Mags. “And have you told Trevor your wedding plans for the garden? I was thinking that tree next to the grotto might need to come down. That way, you’d have an unobstructed view of the waterfall.” She forked a piece of lettuce in her mouth, looking rather smug as she chewed.
Sticking his hand beneath the table, he grasped her knee and squeezed gently. She grunted, her mouth full. “I don’t see that as an option, do you, Miss Campbell?” He squeezed again, a little firmer this time as she tried to pull away.
“Oh, the grotto sounds lovely. And the waterfall would look beautiful in pictures, wouldn’t it, love?” Mags asked Nigel.
He reached out and tapped her nose with a finger. “Whatever you want, Mags, it’s yours.”
Trevor let go of Allie’s knee and watched her face. She gazed at Mags and Nigel with a longing he didn’t understand. What was she thinking? Clearly, she didn’t find them as annoying as he did.
As dinner progressed, his repulsive parents cooed at each other and Allie ignored him to poke at her food. Nothing pissed him off more than being ignored.
Trevor was about to squeeze her knee again when Arnold stepped into the room. “Miss Campbell, your sister has just arrived.”
Allie jumped from her seat. “What? My sister’s here?” She threw her napkin on the table and hurried toward the dining room door.
Trevor stood as well. “Which sister?”
“A very young girl, brown hair.” Arnold glanced at Allie. “She had a suitcase with her.”
Allie all but ran to the foyer, Trevor close on her heels.
Brynn stood near the front door, her eyes darting around the room. When she saw Allison, relief filled the girl’s face. “Allie.”
Allie grasped her by the shoulders. “Oh my God, what’s wrong? How did you get here? Is Dad okay? What’s wrong?” The words tumbled out of her, falling one on top of the other.
“I’m okay. I took a cab.”
“Does Dad know you’re here?”
“No.” Brynn shook her head, her hair covering her face.
Trevor moved forward. “Why don’t we take her to the salon upstairs? Arnold, would you be so good as to have Frances prepare a room and perhaps bring a tray of sandwiches?”
“Very good, sir.”
Allie threw her arm around the girl’s shoulders and followed him up the stairs. Trevor looked back and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I hear you had to join a school club? Ghastly, being a joiner.” He shuddered. “So, what did you finally settle on?”
Brynn quickly glanced at him before her eyes bounced away. “Um, photography. I kind of like taking pictures.”
“I’d like to see them sometime.” Timid, she would be at home behind the camera, watching everyone around her, observing but never participating. Perhaps Allison was correct, Brynn did need her. But that didn’t mean he was letting Allie go. The very thought made him… He grimaced. Fuck, he didn’t know how he felt. But he wasn’t ready to give her up. He reached the salon and held the door for the pair of them. “Ladies.”
Brynn, her eyes wide, practically gawked as she twirled in a circle. “Wow.” She reached out and touched the bust of a long-forgotten Roman nobleman. “Is this for real?”
Allie guided Brynn to the leather sofa and lowered herself next to her sister. “Now, tell me what’s happened. Why are you here, Brynn?”
Trevor stood with his back against the door, his arms crossed. He’d known Allie would be difficult, knew she came with a full set of family baggage. Well, this was what he got for his trouble—little sister turning up unexpectedly. But she wasn’t so bad, really, this little girl. Could hardly be more of a pain in the ass than his own parents.
And Allie was very gentle with her, very loving. Allison Campbell was a good person. A great lay but a good person.
“I’m leaving home. I just want to be with you, Al.” With her eyes cast to the floor, the poor girl looked miserable.
“Brynn,” Allie said, “you know you’re a terrible liar? You have a tell, kid.”
Brynn’s eyes drifted to Allie. “I do miss you.”
“But?”
“Dad’s dating.”
Allie let out a little laugh. “Brynn, honey, that’s crazy.”
“He’s seeing my guidance counselor, Ms. Castor. I overheard them talking on the phone last night. He was laughing, and he called her Karen.”
“I’m sure you misunderstood. Maybe they were discussing you.”
Brynn looked up then. “He’s been gone two nights this week. He said he had some errands to run after dinner. You know Dad doesn’t do errands, he leaves all that stuff to you. Mom’s only been dead for like, six months. It’s disgusting.”
Allie glanced up at Trevor, her face ashen.
He pushed off the door and walked forward, taking a seat across from them. “You’re welcome to stay here, Brynn. For as long as you need to. But you have to tell your father where you are.”
Brynn looked at him like he was a god. “Thanks. But”—she turned to Allie—“can you do it? Call Dad, I mean? I don’t really want to talk to him right now.”
Allie gave her a wry look. “Yeah, I bet you don’t.”
“Are you mad?”
“No, but promise me you’ll never leave home like this again. We already have one runaway in the family. Nobody likes a copycat, Brynnie.”
He suddenly felt de trop. Standing, he made his way to the door. What possessed him to offer up his home to Brynn, he wasn’t sure. But the poor little thing seemed so sad and lost, he couldn’t possibly turn her away. Plus, Allie wouldn’t be happy with her sister miserable at home. When Allison’s happiness had become a priority, he didn’t know, but for some reason, making Allie Campbell happy was suddenly very important to him.
He stood in the hallway and impatiently waited for Allie and her sister. Eventually, they emerged. Brynn looked a little better, but Allison looked worse, and she had that awful plastic smile affixed to her face.