Page 85 of Trailer Trash

I stand up, my temper about to erupt. “Don’t worry about Harlow, Mom. I’m not having children with her or anyone.”

“Don’t say that,” she says calmly, but I see the hurt in her eyes. “You will marry and have children.”

I debate whether I should say it. It won’t help, but I hate that she wants to ignore the truth: I’ll probably die of an overdose before I’d marry.

About every six months I get closer to that destiny.

“River wants money for his wedding. That’s the closest you’ll get me into a tux and you know it.”

She doesn’t deny it.

“Pay for his wedding as if it were mine,” I add.

“Your father and I don’t like his fiancée. She’s a...” Her voice hints of disgust as she mumbles, “...tennis coach.”

I shake my head. “But she’s skinny. She’ll make cute grandbabies.”

“Killian,” she hisses once more.

I am already walking away, unwilling to entertain this conversation. She bitches, but I ignore her.

I take a shower, put on new clothes, a little cologne, and my best gold chain. Check my hair. Good.

Harlow shows up just as I finish getting ready. I play it cool.

I study her form from the side as she rummages through her bag. Her ass seems fine to me. Yeah, it’s a shelf. I could set a glass on it, but I’m not ashamed of Harlow. She’s cute. Compact. Curvy. Not the eye-sore Mom claimed. I suppose it’s possible I’ve gotten used to Harlow’s unusual body.

“My lowly CNA,” I greet.

She rolls her eyes.

“How are you, Killy?” she taunts.

“Good. I’m tired.”

I really am. I worked ten hours. It’d be nice if she’d ask what I did today. She never does. I drop her breadcrumbs. I don’t know why I want her to know.

I bet she regrets hooking up. We could hook up a couple of times a week... or more. It’s not my fault she got all clingy afterwards.

Hell, I made her eyes roll back, and now she hasn’t asked for seconds. Now that I think about it, why not?

I’ve never seen a woman shake that hard and then act like it wasn’t worth repeating. She forgot the night already. I should’ve rammed my cock down her throat so it hurt for five days. Then I wouldn’t be so forgettable.

Her damn ethics probably got into her head.

Mom is right. Crossing that boundary was a mistake — only because Harlow’s more professional now.

Or there’s someone else.

I bite down.

Just then, my gaze falls to her plush ass once more. Guys have to check her out. I remember giving it to her from behind and watching it bounce with every thrust. She was gone. I fucked her into a coma. I had to be the best she’s ever had. For all I know, she’s bending over for some other fucker.

Someone who won’t appreciate her like I do.

“Harlow, do you get a lot of attention because of your body?”

It’s blunt. My temper was about to boil over, though.