Pushing the Boundaries (Picking up the Pieces #3) (12 page)

“Don’t give Em too much credit, Luke; you’re still pretty stupid. Wasn’t it you who took the bet from other guys at the station that you wouldn’t Taze yourself in the balls? Hope you’re happy with one kid, because I’m pretty sure you’re sterile now.”

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “That wasn’t my brightest moment. I couldn’t get it up for a week.” He cringed at the memory as he pushed through the door and headed out.

I’d just closed up the shop and headed for my truck when my cell began ringing. Pulling it from my pocket, the name on the display caused me to pause. I contemplated not answering, but I knew he’d just call back until I finally picked up. Heaving a heavy sigh, I prepared for the conversation to come and hit answer.

“Father,” I said sarcastically then waited for the verbal beat-down to begin. As always, he didn’t make me wait long.

“So you get married and we have to hear about it from the goddamned internet?

Here we go
.

“No offense, Dad, but I didn’t think you’d be all that interested in what was going on in my life.”

He scoffed and I could hear the clinking of ice cubes against a glass in the background. That sound took me back to my childhood. I could just imagine him sitting in that massive brown-leather chair in his oppressive home office, glass of bourbon in hand, disapproving scowl on his face.

“Well, considering you’re still a Devareau, what you do affects this family.”

It had always been about making the family look good growing up. All Carlisle Devareau gave a damn about was his standing in the community, how the family name was perceived by the elite. I’d had it hammered into my head from a young age not to do anything that could make the family look bad. Unfortunately for Dear Old Dad, that just wasn’t something I’d ever been able to pull off.

“And from the looks of things you still can’t stop disgracing the family name, can you, Trevor. For Christ’s sake, you got married in Vegas. To a goddamned nail technician!”

He could talk down to me all he wanted, but I wouldn’t tolerate him talking bad about Lizzy.

“That’s
her
salon, Dad. And an extremely successful one at that. She’s not just some nail technician. She’s a thriving business owner.”

He laughed sarcastically through the phone, causing my hackles to rise. “Yes, maybe by Bumfuck Texas standards, but what that podunk little town considers successful isn’t even a drop in the bucket in the real world.”

Cloverleaf might have been a small town, but Lizzy had clients coming from all the larger surrounding cities just because she was the best. But trying to get my father to see that as a success was like beating my head against a brick wall. The fact remained that he let me know what a failure I was to him from a very early age. It just came naturally to him. I wouldn’t expect him to stop now.

“Is that the only reason you called? To let me know what a disappointment I am to you? Because if so, I have other shit to do.”

“Don’t be so goddamned sensitive.” His tone was laced with disgust. “I was calling to inform you that we want to meet this…
girl
you’ve seen fit to bring into our family.” His disapproval was nearly palpable as he spoke, reeking off him in waves.

“No offense, Pop, but now’s really not the time for a cheerful little family get-together.”

“That wasn’t a question, son. I suggest you make it happen, or I will.” That was the standard Carlisle Devareau threat. If I didn’t do as he demanded he’d take it upon himself to make sure it happened, and he
always
followed through. I knew this time would be no different. The only way I could even attempt to contain the damage my father was willing to rain down on my life was to agree with him.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Lizzy.”

His hateful laugh rang in my ear, “See that you do. What a shame. Already handed your balls over to the little woman, have you?”

“Goodbye, Dad.” I didn’t wait for a response before disconnecting the call and shoving my phone back into my pocket. My mood had gone from good to shit in the span of one five-minute phone call. But that was always the case when it came to my family. I climbed into my truck and gunned the engine, pointing it in the direction of home. I really hoped Lizzy would be able to pull me out of the funk I fell in when it came to my father.

“No,” I told Merle for the fifth time since starting dinner. The damn dog sat at my side, looking up at me with those pathetic little puppy-dog eyes, just begging me to drop something on the floor for him to snatch up.

“Merle, no!” I tried to be stern with him, but I had to admit, those whiny little whimpers and that tilted head were doing me in. Not that I would let Trevor know, but the little guy—well, maybe not so little—was actually starting to grow on me. It was just too hard not to love him. One of his ears remained flopped over while the other tended to stand up straight, and his paws were about three sizes too big for his body, which caused him to constantly trip and slide into walls and furniture. He was a giant, white-and-black-spotted catastrophe, and damn if that didn’t make him adorable.

“Okay, fine. But if you tell Daddy I shared with you, I’m gonna deny it until my last dying breath.”

Whoof
.

I dropped a piece of shredded chicken for him. The damn dog could barely walk without falling over, but he could snap food midair and gobble it down with no problem. Yep, he was most definitely Trevor’s dog.

“I saw that,” a deep voice called from behind me, startling a squeak out of me.

“Damn it, Trev. You scared the crap out of me.”

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled as he walked to the fridge, pulled out a beer and sucked down half of it in two gulps.

“You’re just pissed I caught you. Admit it, you love Merle.” He finished his first beer and reached for a second, letting me know something was off even if he was trying to act like he was all right.

“You okay?” I asked, watching him drain a second beer.

“Just peachy,” he replied with a stiff smile which came nowhere near meeting his eyes. “What’s for dinner, wifey?”

The diversion was obvious, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. I wanted to know what had him so upset. It was so unlike him to seem angry. “I’m making chicken enchiladas. They aren’t authentic in the slightest, but they’re still pretty good. Now tell me what’s wrong, and don’t bother lying. I can always tell.”

“Really?” he asked with a cocky grin. “You believed me two months ago when I told you that purple dress didn’t make your butt look big.”

Oh, he was just asking for it. “First of all,” I said, placing a hand on the counter and popping my hip out in typical pissed-off-girl fashion, “I know you’re trying to change the subject, and it’s not going to work. Secondly, that dress didn’t make my butt look big! It just accentuated my curves. And you’re a dick.”

His fake smile faded away as he let out a deep breath and ran his hands through his tousled blond hair, making it stand on ends in that sexy, just-fucked kind of way.

“I talked to my dad today. It’s no big deal; he just put me in a bad mood.”

“What did he say?” A thread of concern tugged at me that his dad could change my easy-going Trevor into someone I wasn’t familiar with so easily.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just drop it.”

“Trev, you’re obviously upset. Tell me what happened. Maybe talking about it will make you feel better.”

Slapping his hands on the counter top, he looked at me, frustration evident in his teal-blue gaze. “Well, it looks like the family will be coming for a friendly little visit,” he stated sarcastically.

“Well, that’s a good thing, right? I mean, you never really talk about them, so I don’t know what they’re like. But they obviously care enough to want to come see you.” I tried to lighten the mood even though my words were halfhearted at best. Something told me his family coming was anything but good.

He let out a derisive snort and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know my family, Lizzy. It’ll be anything but pleasant, trust me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me about them? I don’t really know anything about your life in Louisiana.”

His hands went to his hair again and I stood there as his agitation flowed through him, thickening the tension in the room. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, all right.” He picked up his empty beer bottle and threw it in the trash with so much force the glass shattered.

“Where are you going?” I called after him as he turned and walked from the kitchen.

“To bed. I’m not hungry.”

He climbed the stairs and I heard a door shut seconds later. I stared in the direction Trevor disappeared for a few seconds until I felt something wet pressed against my hand, pulling me from my daze. I looked down as Merle nuzzled my hand, waiting for me to scratch his head. It seemed the poor guy was just as bothered by Trevor’s behavior as I was. Both of us could sense that something wasn’t right.

For the second night in a row, I slept in my bed by myself. And for the second night in a row, I couldn’t shake the unwavering feeling that it wasn’t right. Functioning on little to no sleep, I went about my morning routine slower than usual. I stood under the shower spray for over half an hour, waiting for the warm water to wake me up. By the time I finally got out, there was no time for me to tame my wild, red curls. To my displeasure, I was stuck wearing my hair in its natural state.

Making my way down the stairs, I walked on autopilot to the kitchen for some much needed coffee. I was a total caffeine addict; talking to me before my first cup of coffee was like taking your life into your hands. I poured a piping-hot cup, doctored it up, and turned to see Trevor standing at the dining room table.

“What are these?” he asked, staring down at the papers littered across the table.

I walked over to stand next to him and answered, “Oh, those are plans for the salon. I’ve been thinking of expanding for a while now, adding rooms for waxing and massages, that kind of thing.”

“These are really good,” he told me as he looked over the plans while I sucked down my coffee. “Why haven’t you started on this yet?”

I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. Something just always comes up, I guess.” I turned my head and studied his features, trying to gauge his mood. “I’m sorry for pushing you last night,” I told him. “I didn’t mean to make you more upset.”