“Fine.”

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I assume you’re referring to the two barking mad people who made me?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, them.”

“What the hell is the point of getting married? They’ve had ten weddings between them. Why go through it again?”

Allie walked to his side of the desk and perched on the corner. “Marriage obviously means something to them.”

He rubbed his chin and made a disgusted snorting sound—one that was very unbecoming. He vowed never to make that sound again. “It’s just another excuse for my mother to plan a party.”

“I’ll bet every time they take those vows, they have the best of intentions.”

Trevor laughed. “Did you hear yourself just now? Vows, as in promises.” He waved his hand. “Their intentions are bloody pointless.”

She toyed with the hem of her pink dress. “Would vows mean something to you? I mean, if you made a promise to someone, would it be important for you to keep it?”

He looked up at her and noticed for the first time that she was sitting on his desk, her bare legs within reach. He wrapped a hand around her knee. “I don’t want to talk about parents. Or marriage. Or promises.” He slid his hand down her soft calf.

“Of course you don’t.” She gently pulled her leg from his grasp and stood, smoothing her skirt over her hips. “Trevor?”

He wanted her, here on the desk, and to hell with whoever came barging through the door. “Hmm?”

“It’s none of my business, but how long are you going to let Monica stay?”

More complications—his parents, her sisters. He had a feeling there would be no desk sex in his immediate future. “Of course it’s your business. She’s your sister. And I really hadn’t given it any thought. By the way, I bought the house Brad’s been living in.”

Allie stilled. “When?”

“I had my attorney, Alex, make an offer late last night. The landlord was thrilled to wash his hands of it. There are five people living in a two-bedroom house, and they’ve made quite a mess of it. But, I figured at least this way, I could ensure that Monica has a place to live.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I can.” She seemed surprised, and he didn’t understand why. She already had too many worries, and if this eased her mind, why wouldn’t he?

***

Allie left the office and walked out the front door and around to the garage. Of course he could afford to buy a house. It meant nothing. He did it for you. That little voice that kept giving Trevor a pass when he acted like a jerk, or gave him more credit than he deserved when he did something nice, was getting louder. More annoying and difficult to ignore too.

But this gesture wasn’t personal. Like he said, he did these things because he could, not because he wanted to make her life easier or better. Or to please her. It was his nature to take charge. He was bossy like that.

She walked into the garage and found Simmons polishing a car.

Her feet practically skidded to a halt. “Is that…” She pointed to the shiny Festiva. It looked just like her car but without all the dings and dents. And it was bright, cherry red, not the faded orangey-red she remembered.

Simmons smiled. “Yes, Miss Allison, it’s yours. Mr. Blake had it fixed, painted, and detailed.” He walked around to the front and patted on the hood. “There’s a brand-new engine, new transmission, new brakes and tires. It’s practically a whole new car.”

“This is my car?”

Simmons chuckled. “One and the same.” He snatched the keys off the wall and handed them to her. “Here you go. Take her for a spin.”

Allie cleared her throat and blinked back tears. Trevor wasn’t a sweet man. He wasn’t a kind man. And yet…he had taken in her sisters, he was gentle with Brynn, made sure Monica had a place to stay. He could have totally taken advantage of her the day she was sloppy drunk. Instead, he took care of her. And he’d begged for forgiveness. Now he brought her car back.

She didn’t know what to think about any of this, how to process it. But right now, she needed to talk to her dad, have it out with him once and for all. He needed to start acting like a father again. Then she could think about Trevor.

“Thanks,” she said to Simmons, hopped into the Festiva, and took a minute to appreciate it. It smelled clean and fresh. She started the engine and smiled when it purred instead of clunked.

Trevor. That look he’d given her at the breakfast table—it made her ache. She wanted him too. Four days seemed like a long time without sex—even though she’d lived without for over four years. Now she craved him, like a gambler craved one last bet. But she couldn’t do anything with her sisters in the house, so moot point.

She waved at Simmons and drove home, enjoying the familiarity of her old car. When she pulled up to her house, she saw a strange Honda sitting in the driveway. She snapped off the radio. Who would drop in at seven-thirty?

Allie used her key to let herself in. At the sight of a strange woman walking from the hallway to the living room, wearing one of her dad’s T-shirts and nothing else, Allie yelped. “What the hell?”

The other woman screamed and yanked at the hem of the shirt, trying to pull it down over her hips. “Who are you?” She wore glasses and had chin-length dark hair. She was on the short side and a little heavy.

“I live here. Who are you?”

Her dad walked out of the kitchen, a spatula in his hand. His brows lifted, causing the horizontal lines along his forehead to deepen. “Allie, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She looked back at the woman. This had to be Karen, the guidance counselor. “What if Brynn was with me? And why wouldn’t I be here, considering Brynn and I left you messages all night?”

His mouth opened and closed. “I forgot to charge my phone.”

“Really? Well, while you were dicking around and not checking your phone, Monica was sitting in jail.”

The color drained out of his face. “Is she all right? What happened? What did she do?”

“I’d like to speak to you in private.” She glared at Karen, her lip curling as she glanced at the woman’s bare legs. Her father had sex last night, in the house he’d shared with her mother. Allie trembled with anger.

“I’ll just go get dressed.” Karen scurried out of the room.

Once she was out of sight, Allie turned on him. “Nice, Dad. Brynn ran away from home, Monica’s in jail, and you’re shagging the guidance counselor.”

He pointed the spatula at her. “I told you not to use that tone with me. Now, come in the kitchen and tell me what happened. I need to flip a pancake.”

She couldn’t remember the last time he’d made himself a meal and he was cooking pancakes for Karen? She tossed her purse down on the sofa and stalked to the kitchen. She glanced around. The place was a mess—spilled pancake batter congealed on the counter, newspapers and mail littered the table, and three trash bags stood next to the back door. Well, forget it. She wasn’t picking up after him this time. Let Karen do it.

He flipped a pancake, then faced her. “What happened with Monica?”

“She was arrested for pot possession and underage drinking. Trevor bailed her out and she spent the night at his place.”

He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Shit. This boy she’s dating is trouble.”

Allie gasped. “No, you don’t say.”

“I get it, Al, you’re upset.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not upset, I’m pissed.” She tried to control herself, but her breaths were spastic and her chest felt tight. “You’ve spent the last six months so depressed you could hardly get out of bed in the morning. I’ve been doing everything around here, the cooking, cleaning, shopping, taking care of the girls.” Not to mention keeping them from losing their house and trading out medical bills on her back. Okay, so sex with Trevor wasn’t exactly a chore, but she had traded herself for her family. And it was humiliating. “And now that you’ve replaced Mom, you still don’t give a shit about Monica or Brynn.”