Page 4 of Souls and Sorrows

His lips purse around his straw. “I thought it was funny when we were younger, but I don’t know, Cash. I’m starting to get concerned.”

Rapping my knuckles against the table, I toss him an indignant look. As if there’s something wrong with my dedication to work over partying with him and our younger sister, Lenny.

I simply don’t have the time—or desire—to be social.

Even tonight, Palmer practically had to drag me to one of the sticky, dimly lit clubs on the outskirts of Boston. Leather booths line the dark alcoves of the dining area, creating a U-shape around the stage at the back, which is roped off and guarded by several large, stocky men in black T-shirts.

A woman gyrates wildly against the pole in the middle of the stage, her holographic bikini catching in the light as she spins and twists to mild fanfare.

Not my scene at all, which makes me question my brother’s intentions. I’d much rather be spending our birthday the way I normally do—eating Chinese takeout at my waterfront apartment and catching up on court proceedings.

But apparently, my regular festivities weren’t cutting it this year for our thirty-first.

Sliding my hands into my lap, I give my brother an unimpressed look. “Did you bring me here to get me laid or to celebrate?”

“Both?” Palmer lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. My brows shoot up, and he snorts, reaching to tug on the blond bun at the nape of his neck. “Not together, obviously. I’m just worried about you, all right? It’s not healthy to spend as much time in an office environment as you do.”

“Perhaps if you don’t enjoy the work,” I counter, uncomfortable having the spotlight shone on my inadequacies.

Evidently, not everyone in the world is married to their career, and those who are tend to cheat on their wives frequently.

Or die early.

“Dad enjoyed his work.”

My eyes cut to his, narrowing. “What’s your point?”

“Just that maybeenjoyabilityisn’t a great variable to measure by.”

I open my mouth to retort just as Rebecca returns with my drink and the tray of shots with blue liquid that Palmer ordered, sliding the tall glass in my direction. I catch it, still not meeting her gaze, though I feel hers volley between my brother and me.

Curling my fingers around the glass, I lift it and sip, soaking in the briny taste that licks down my esophagus. For a brief moment, I’m distracted by that and not wishing my father hadn’t been sent to an untimely grave so I could put him in one myself.

Palmer exhales, reaching into the breast pocket of his chevron-print button-down. He pulls out a couple of bills, then takes Rebecca’s forearm, turning it over to press the money into her hand.

“Keep the change, okay, Bex?” His voice dips, oozing charm, and I feel a familiar stab of envy at how easy it is for him to interact with strangers, no matter the setting.

Palmer’s the definition of extrovert. He loves social outings and is an expert flirt, wielding his likability to get him into exclusive clubs and private or sold-out venues rather than using the Primrose name.

Which, since our father’s death, doesn’t really amount to much anyway.

“Bex?” Rebecca asks.

“All my friends get nicknames,” he tells her, sliding away from me in the curved booth. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna try to get my brother shit-faced, so maybe he’ll go home with someone other than me tonight.”

Her stare bores a hole into my forehead as I take another sip, swirling the liquid around my mouth, pacing myself. The table dips as she leans in, showing off her cleavage again. Against my better judgment, I swing my eyes up to hers, mulling over what it might be like to take her up on the offer.

I wonder if I could drink enough to get my dick intrigued. I’m certain she’d be more than willing to try anything in the bedroom—or the restroom down the hall since I wouldn’t bother bringing her back to my place.

Sipping some more vodka, I let my gaze travel over her soft, feminine form, considering how she might feel beneath my fingertips. The way her mouth could be hot and tight, wrapped around my cock, sucking as though her life depended on it.

Rebecca hoods her pretty blue eyes, and I swallow, something stirring in my gut.

When she smiles, practically presenting herself naked on a silver platter, the sensation evaporates. Any man would jump at the chance to take her to a dark corner and have his way with her. It’s that thought that turns me off.

I’ve never been very keen on wanting what everyone else desires.

I like the rejects.

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