Tamed by Emma Chase Page A

whole bunch of poor, unsuspecting ladies. Why is this one worth mentioning?”
    “I like her, like her.”
    Alexandra’s blue eyes widen. “Wow. A Wonder Years reference. This must be serious. Do tell.”
    My eyes abashedly drop to my burger. “Her name is Delores.”
    “That’s kind of random.”
    “She’s . . . different.”
    Lexi tries to pull more details out of me. “Like . . . she has three breasts kind of different?”
    I laugh. “No. But, for the record, it wouldn’t be a strike against her if she did. She’s . . . cool. I have a good time talking with her, you know? She says she’s not into relationships, but I think I’m hoping I can change her mind. I haven’t felt like this since . . .”
    Alexandra puts up her palm. “Don’t. Do not even say the foul beast’s name. I’m trying to eat here.”
    “Anyway, I’m not sure if it’s going anywhere, but I . . .”
    I don’t get the opportunity to finish my sentence. Because a wave of icy, red liquid splashes in my face.
    Tastes like cherry.
    “Lying motherfucker!”
    I swipe my face, clearing the fluid off my eyelashes. When my vision clears, I see Delores standing on the sidewalk—with a now-empty Slurpee cup clenched in her hand.
    Which she proceeds to throw at my fucking head.
    “All that talk about not hooking up with other people! Exclusive fuck buddies, you said! I would’ve liked you if you had just been straight with me! I knew it—I knew you were just another false-faced bastard who doesn’t like to share his sex toys but has no problem playing with a different one!”
    By this time, Alexandra and I are both on our feet. And I have no idea what’s going on.
    I try, “Delores . . .”
    But she cuts me off. “Four days! You tell me four days ago that you’renot interested in screwing anyone else, and here I find you with . . . with . . .”
    Lexi holds out her hand for a shake. “Alexandra Reinhart.”
    Dee’s incendiary glare turns to Lexi. But her tirade stops as she wonders. “Reinhart. How do I know that name?”
    She lets me answer. Finally. “She’s Mackenzie’s mother.”
    If you look closely, you can almost see our previous conversation replaying in Delores’s eyes. “Mackenzie . . . the pseudo niece?” Her head turns more fully to me. “That means she’s . . .”
    “The girl I grew up with—yes. Drew’s sister.”
    Alexandra takes over for me. “Drew’s sister, Steven’s wife, daughter of John and Anne. I have many designations. One, in particular, is about to be put to good use.”
    It’s times like this I suspect Alexandra knows about her nickname. And it scares me.
    A lot.
    Alexandra’s eyes stay on Dee, but she says to me, “I see what you meant about different.” Then to Delores, “You must be Delores. Matthew was just telling me about you. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’ve reached my bullshit quota for the week.”
    Alexandra circles her slowly—like a shark checking out a wounded seal. “You know, Delores, my mother used to tell me that even though a man wasn’t supposed to ever strike a woman, I should never take advantage of that. That I should never act without expecting an equal and deserving reaction.”
    Dee folds her arms across her chest and stands stubbornly tall under the weight of Lexi’s disapproving gaze.
    “Matthew’s explained our relationship to you. He’s like a second brother to me. And of the two of them? He’s the nicer one. You should keep that in mind before you think about tossing Icees at his head again.”
    Dee gives just a little. She looks down at the sidewalk and mutters defensively, “It was a Slurpee.”
    Alexandra snaps her fingers at me. “Give me your shirt and jacket.”
    After taking off my tie, I hand the items to her and stand on the sidewalk in a plain white undershirt and gray slacks. Dee reaches for the stained clothes in Lexi’s hands. “I’ll pay to have them dry-cleaned.”
    Alexandra rolls her eyes. “The dry cleaners