I shrug. “No idea,” I say. “Probably the gardener.”
“Ridiculous,” he says. “You really can't get good help these days. We’re back to DC tomorrow, but the engagement party is Friday. Ella, the planners and all of that will be taking over the house for the next two days, I assume?”
“Tomorrow morning,” she says. “You and Katherine will need to direct things, Caulter. No parties.”
I look at her, mock innocent. “Have I gotten into a single bit of trouble since I’ve been here?” I ask. “Have I been out to a single party?”
Ella narrows her eyes at me. She doesn’t trust me - reasonably so. The part about parties is true, though. I’ve not been to a single one since I’ve been here. I’ve not put my dick in a single girl, either. Except Kate, of course.
“Not that I’ve seen in the newspapers,” she says.
“Leave the young man alone,” the Senator says, gesturing toward me with his fork in hand. “He’s cleaned himself up, and has behaved quite responsibly since we sent them out here. I told you, Ella, it’s all about boundaries. Rules. If you give children rules and expectations, they will conform. Caulter here is a perfect example of that.”
I have to clench my fists as I listen to him talk about me as if he’s talking about a preschool-aged child or a dog. “Yes,” I agree. The old Caulter would have lifted up the end of the antique table we’re sitting at, and sent dishes flying, before storming out of the room and driving off in my mother’s hundred-thousand-dollar car. The new Caulter, the one fucking the Senator’s daughter, is cool, calm, and collected. “You know, I think it’s really due to Kate rubbing off on me.”
Kate coughs more violently this time, and the Senator looks at her. "Are you catching a cold?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Katherine
“So you and the hot step-brother,” Jo says. “Dish.”
“There’s nothing to dish,” I protest. I'm annoyed because of how fixated Jo is with Caulter and me. We’re sitting outside, our feet dangling off the edge of the dock, watching as the party planners set up tents and engagement party paraphernalia in the backyard. My father has some kind of notion that I’m supervising all of this. “Ugh. Do you really think he’s hot?”
As if on cue, Caulter walks out onto our shared balcony, wearing nothing but boxer briefs. It’s like he thinks he’s a fucking male model, strutting around like a peacock with no concern for the people in the yard.
People who stop and gawk.
He’s done the same thing every damn morning for the past three days, standing outside my window like I’m going to see his hard-on and lose my mind. Yesterday, he pressed it up against the glass door, making lewd gestures with his tongue and rubbing his nipples. He's trying to get a rise out of me, and it's definitely working.
Jo slides her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and makes a show of wiggling her fingers at him. “Yeah, he’s hot, Kate,” she says. “You really don’t see it? I mean, I guess you like clean cut guys, and he’s very....not, with the tattoos, and the nipple piercings, and...shit, he’s got a nice ass.”
“He’s a disgusting pig,” I say, my tone not as convincing as I try to make it. I can’t help the way my eyes wander up to the balcony where he stands, leaning on the rail and smoking, the sunlight glistening off his muscular arms and chest. “Plus, he smokes.”
Jo shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind it,” she says.
“He’s arrogant and insufferable.”
“Didn’t you say he sent Ella’s stylist to replace your wardrobe?” she asks. “He’s not exactly Satan.”
“Yes, but --” I groan in frustration. “You don’t understand.” How do I explain that the Devil up there -- the ripped, tattooed, pierced, so amazing in bed that I can’t think about anything except his cock -- set my fucking wardrobe on fire because he wanted me to wear dresses without panties? He's clearly insane.
“What I understand is that you’re living with Caulter Sterling,” she says. “He’s like...legendary when it comes to fucking.”
“Jo!” She’s right, though; he has a reputation. But what the hell do I know about sex, anyway? I've only been with Caulter. Maybe he's not the only guy who will ever rock my boat.
Of course, looking at him up there on the balcony just makes me think about him rocking my boat. I press my thighs together, smoothing the fabric of my skirt over them.
"Is that one of the dresses he bought you?" Jo asks.
I roll my eyes. "Yes."
"Looks expensive."
"I'm sure it is."
Jo shrugs. “I can give him a test run,” she says. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
“What? You and that guy broke up?” Jo bounces from one to another, so I can't remember his name.
“Last week.” She kicks her foot in the water. “Caught him cheating.”
“What a dickhead,” I say.
She shrugs. “It wasn't like I was faithful," she says. "But it's different if he's the one doing the running around."