Informed Consent Read online

  The shredded items could likely be attributed to the dog. The majority of the destroyed crap was hers, thereby serving as a good object lesson. Maybe.

  Great. What wife wouldn’t love a man who thinks about giving her object lessons? He was a dick.

  The duvet surged from the bed and a dog the size of a small horse landed in the middle of the room. The beast shook vigorously, before stretching, front feet and chest lowered to the floor. His hips stayed in the air. The thick tail wagged slowly.

  The dog trotted back over to the bed. Rooting around, he found something and brought it over to drop in a sodden ball at Andrew’s feet.

  “Shit!”

  He’d worn those pigskin boots since he was 16. After he’d found them in a pawn shop in Arizona and emptied his pockets to buy them. One of them was never going to be worn again.

  He jerked the door open and stuck his head into the hall. “Denise!”

  He left the door open and circled the room, furiously grabbing up clothes, tossing items that appeared unscathed into a chair, and throwing the remnants into a corner.

  “Denise!”

  The Beast lowered its haunches to the floor and watched with interest. Which pissed Andrew off even more.

  “Get out of my room!”

  The dog curled back its lip.

  “Did you freaking growl at me?”

  Lucas sauntered into the room. “Tiny!” He took in the mess of sheets and shredded clothes and hurriedly grabbed “Tiny” by the collar, ready to rush out into the hall.

  “Denise!” Lucas yelled. Obviously the kid thought it was time to disappear, leaving the job of calming his brother in law to someone else.

  Andrew stepped in the kid’s path, arms crossed over his chest. “Freeze!”

  Lucas froze.

  His wife stormed through the door. She barged past him, rushing to her brother’s rescue within nano seconds of the kid’s call.

  Andrew was annoyed. His call hadn’t produced results like that. Finding her brother in one piece, Denise calmed down and took note. She let her gaze briefly inventory the room, and finally, finally, come to rest on him, her husband. Pardon him for thinking she damn well should have looked at him first.

  “What are you doing with my bra?”

  In spite of himself, Andrew grinned. His wife believed the best defense was a good offense.

  “Picking it up off the floor.” He waved a hand around the room. “I’ve got two piles here, Denise. This pile is for clothes the dog didn’t eat. I think you can maybe put them in the laundry and then put them away. This pile belongs to the dog. They can’t be saved.” He pointed at the filthy brute who leered back at him.

  Lucas moved directly in front of the dog and looked at his sister before sidling toward an escape.

  Andrew’s arm shot out and braced itself against the door.

  “Lucas. My man. We talked about the dogs in the house.”

  Lucas nodded. He kept his spot in front of the dog.

  Andrew gestured towards his destroyed bed. “This is why I want you to keep any dog you let in the house with you at all times. Until they’re trained.”

  Lucas’s mouth opened and closed. He shot a glance at his sister. Finally he shrugged.

  “Sorry, dude.”

  Andrew quirked a brow.

  “Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  “Take the mutt out then get your butt back in here. You can strip this bed and remake it.”

  Lucas gaped. “Ah…well. Sure. Ok. Strip the bed and remake it.” He bent down to grab the dog by the collar.

  Andrew stared at the kid. He laughed. “You have no idea how to make a bed, do you?”

  Lucas grinned.

  Andrew sighed. “Hurry up!” He reached for another chewed article of clothing. “If your sister will tell me where the linens are we’ll do it together.”

  Lucas and Denise both stared at him.

  “What?”

  Denise stuttered. “N-nothing. I’ll find the sheets. But wait a minute.”

  Andrew waited. Lucas looked at her.

  “I. . . It was me. The dog came in with me.

  “But he’s my responsibility, not Denise’s.”

  “Take him out, Lucas,” Andrew said. “Your sister and I have this one.”

  Lucas left.

  Denise stood frozen.

  Andrew kept his mouth shut for a minute, occupying himself by grabbing shreds of clothing. He could give her hell for the state of the entire house. But he’d never actually said ‘Keep the damn place in order.’ He’d have to eventually.

  Everything about their life was new and strange and he didn’t want to overload her. He had made it clear though, to anyone who was listening, that he didn’t want all the dogs running loose. She’d heard that message.

  He straightened and looked at his wife. Any irritation he felt fled immediately. Her face belonged at a gallows.

  He swallowed his annoyance. Patience was key. “Thank you for telling me the truth about the dog, Denise.”

  Denise scrunched her face. “Thank you for telling me the truth! I hate hearing you say that! I feel six!”

  Heroically, he let the mocking voice and comment slide. “Honesty is the most important thing between us, Denise.” He moved toward her, arms reaching for her.

  Denise squared her shoulders.

  “I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who would throw her brother under the bus. I’m glad I was right.”

  She flushed, looked away.

  Andrew pressed his lips to her ear. He wrapped one arm across the front of her shoulders, moving slightly to the side and drawing her hair back with his other hand. He pressed his lips to the column of her neck, kissing a path to its base. He bit down gently but firmly. At the same time he swatted her rear, hard, twice in rapid succession.

  Denise gasped.

  Andrew released the hold he had on his wife’s neck and then licked. He brought his mouth to her ear.

  “You heard me say I didn’t want the dogs in the house.” Soft. Lethal.

  She shivered.

  His hand met her ass again, harder, several times.

  Denise danced, squirmed.

  “I wasn’t wild about that tone either. I’m not finished here.” Andrew turned her gently and kissed her softly on her mouth. “Go find those sheets.”

  Chapter 7

  Denise sat, numb, slumped deep in a couch in the main living area of her parent’s house. This may be the worst day of my life. Up till now. It’s bound to get worse. She was brooding but who could blame her.

  Andrew’s feet sounded on the stairs and every muscle in her body tightened.

  “Anyone have plans for dinner?”

  Rude thoughts rolled around in her mind. She bit her tongue because even though it hadn’t worked out too well up to this point, her plan was still to lie low. So far she’d failed miserably even if Andrew wasn’t aware of most of it. But she had to keep trying. Her stomach plunged and then did several double flips.

  Crap. He didn’t even begin to know the worst and now he was roaming around talking about dinner.

  Hearing Andrew head for the den where the boys were hanging, Denise got up from her chair and stood listening, poised for disaster. She glided across the floor then, heading for the stairs.

  “Denise!”

  She swore under her breath but kept moving.

  “Denise!” He stuck his head out of the butler’s pantry. “Come on in here! I’m going to scrounge us up something to eat. Or did you have plans?”

  “Yeah. I thought I’d take a hot bath.” Her foot stretched out to take another step.

  Andrew grinned and stepped out of the pantry. He looked up at her, one hand resting on the balustrade. His eyes gleamed, and his face was relaxed, happy, teasing.

  “I meant for dinner. Come on back down here and help us.”

  Denise hesitated, watching as he headed back towards the pantry and kitchen.

  Stealth. Below the radar. No fuss.

&n
bsp; What he thought he’d find in the kitchen was beyond her. Yogurt? Pop Tarts?

  She stalled at the entrance to the kitchen. The boys both watched Andrew like curious puppies, Lucas happily perched on the counter and Zander sitting on the butcher block swinging his legs. They liked her husband, their new big brother.

  Her heart climbed up into her throat and lodged there. What on earth was she going to do?

  Andrew stuck his head in cabinets, drawers, refrigerators, grabbing any items that caught his eye and tossing them to the boys, or up on a counter. Hands on hips he perused the collection. He stuck his tongue in his left cheek, nodded to himself.

  “Parmesan.” He tossed a hunk of cheese at Lucas.

  “Roma tomatoes and capers,” pointing at the items, then pushing them aside. “Garlic?”

  “Spice rack over the island.” Denise spoke without thinking. Andrew fired a look in her direction.

  Denise blushed.

  “Pasta.” A box flew towards Zander. “Find a pot.”

  Her brothers had never had this kind of interaction.

  Denise took two tentative steps into the room.

  Andrew pointed at the knife block. “Grab a knife. I’m giving you chopping duty.”

  Using both hands, Andrew scooped up the collection of garlic and onion and put them on the far counter. He waved a hand at them.

  “Chop.”

  Denise considered the pile. She opened drawers and peered inside. At some point in her life while passing thru this room she’d seen a whirly thing that chopped stuff fast. Made more sense to her to use that than a knife.

  She kept a wary ear and eye on the scene, and went to work peeling her very first onion. She fumbled with the garlic.

  A strong hand grabbed the garlic from her grasp without warning. “I’ll show you an easy way.”

  Denise watched. He’d folded a kitchen towel into his waistband. Not fair to look sexy with a hand towel tucked in your pants.

  She scowled.

  Andrew tossed the garlic in the microwave and punched buttons. Denise raised a brow. Who knew?

  “Where’s William?”

  Crap. Crap. And Crap again.

  “Don’t know,” said Lucas.

  “Out,” said Zander.

  “Not home,” she said, tossing the word out casually. Unfortunately all three of them spoke at once.

  Andrew turned from the microwave and looked at her before he let his eyes drift to her brothers.

  “Not home from school?” He turned back to the counter and started doing something with a bunch of greens.

  “UUMM,” Denise said vaguely. “What’s the story with the microwave and garlic?”

  She pressed her face close to the glass door and peered in as though important secrets might be revealed.

  “The teeth will loosen up in the skin.”

  “The teeth? Out of the skin?”

  Denise knew damn well what he meant. She wasn’t a total imbecile. She moved her face away from the microwave hoping all the studies denying any threat of radiation were correct, and looked over at him, wrinkling her brow.

  Andrew nodded, and yanked at the door of the machine. He reached in, pulled the garlic out, and put the entire mess on the counter. He pointed.“See? The skin has loosened.” He picked up a clove and rolled it between his fingers.

  Denise did her level best to look fascinated. She whistled.

  “Who knew? I’ll be damned. Look at that one! Popped right out of its skin! Look at that, guys!”

  She turned towards her brothers. Clearly, they didn’t realize they were all on thin ice. Hers was undoubtedly thinner than theirs.

  “Guys! Look. This will be really handy to know.”

  Lucas glanced up from his grater. “Oh. Yeah. Cool. Is this enough cheese?”

  Andrew grinned and headed over to the kid.

  Denise let out a whisper of relief.

  “That’s not any old cheese, kid. That’s aged Parmesan. Show some respect.” He put out a hand and ruffled the kid’s hair.

  “To cheese? I have to respect the cheese?”

  Denise bit her tongue. Instead of saying it out loud she said it to herself with exactly the right amount of sarcasm: Andrew’s very big on respect. Even cheese deserves respect.

  “Did Will come home after school, Lucas? Or go straight to …where exactly is he?”

  The man would not give up.

  “Do I chop with this?” Denise pressed a button on the food processor. “Or, like, mince? I saw that once.”

  She stalked across the kitchen towards the butler’s pantry. “In here, maybe?”

  “The baby processor is fine, Dinx.”

  Her head stuck in the pantry, Denise froze. She’d been called Baby, Sweetheart, even Hotstuff. But Dinx?

  She stuck her head back into the kitchen.

  Lucas was chortling, waving the grater, parmesan flying down the counter. “He called you Dinx! I like it!”

  Zander spoke up. “I do too! It’s cool, DeeDee!”

  “DeeDee?” Andrew grinned, one brow quirking up.

  “Don’t even think about it!” She was faking of course. He could call her any damn thing he wanted as long as he stayed far away from…

  “So where is William?”

  Shit.

  “Basketball.” Zander.

  “Phil’s house.” Lucas

  Again, at the same time.

  Denise bent over and peered at the interior of the chopper.

  “Basketball at Phil’s house,” Zander added.

  “Does this look ok, Andrew?”

  He shot her a glance, laying the lethal looking knife on the counter. He’d moved on in his work, wielding his knife with his right hand while he held the head of some vegetable in place with the heel of his left hand, hacking away at the green stuff. Disciplining the poor spinach. Or broccoli. Now he brushed his hands on his tucked towel and walked towards her.

  Hands on his hips, he jerked his head at the little machine.

  “Undo it. Take the bowl off. Go ahead.”

  Denise fumbled it.

  “Turn it to the left. There you go. That frees the bowl. It’s a safety mechanism that keeps it from working if the bowl isn’t completely seated and the lid on correctly. So you won’t chop your hand off by accident. Take the lid off.”

  Denise closely examined the interior of the bowl. Garlic had probably never been so carefully examined. Where the fuck was William?

  “Look good? Pretty fine?” Andrew was helpful.

  Denise nodded. “I think.” She held out the bowl to him.

  Andrew took it, gave the garlic a rather cursory look, and headed back to the butcher block.

  “Great. So William is playing basketball at Phil’s. Should we call? Tell him dinner is close?”

  “Phil’s mother is a great cook,” Lucas offered. “She usually feeds us.”

  Andrew’s head cocked to one side. He pointed to a large kettle. “Get that down kid and fill it with water for the pasta. So Mrs. Phil feeds you?”

  “She feeds whoever is there,” Denise said. “She’s very motherly.”

  Zander decided to contribute. “She loves kids. She’d feed every kid in town if she could.”

  This was exhausting. She didn’t want to have to work this hard. She was tempted to collapse and confess. She bustled over to the pot rack and shoved Lucas out of the way since he was only staring at it anyway.

  Andrew inserted himself between Denise and the butcher block island and reached up to the pot rack.

  “I got it, Babe.”

  He bumped her gently with a hip. “You fill it?”

  He thrust the pot at her, and leaned his hips against the counter.

  “So what are the rules around here? You guys supposed to check in after school?”

  His voice was level, friendly, no hint of danger.

  Zander and Lucas stared at him, mouths open.

  “Rules about dinner?”

  Both boys turned back to their t
asks abruptly.

  “Is there a set time when the boys have to be home Denise? Do they have to check in after school?”

  Denise pulled in a breath. The man might as well be a damn rat terrier.

  So much for stealth mode. It was William or her and frankly, she wanted -a lot- to kill the little bastard. But for now, she threw herself on the IED named Andrew.

  “Jesus Christ, ’drew! What’s with the rules! Does there have to be a rule about every fucking thing?!

  Andrew, still lounging casually by the counter, looked at her thoughtfully.

  Zander and Lucas did that thing that involved staring, open mouthed at her.

  So Denise stormed from the room, wrapping the big fat Red Herring around her, making sure he would follow.

  Except he didn’t.

  ***

  Well over an hour later Andrew nudged the door of their bedroom open with the toe of his foot and walked in, hands full of a tray bearing pasta, bread, salad, and a glass of wine. He and the boys had finished making dinner and eaten and he’d put them to work on dishes. He’d gotten them started and spelled out instructions, slipping innocuous questions in here and there until he was sure they were lulled. Then he’d hit them with the zinger.

  “So does Will miss school often?”

  “Jesus. Practically all the time.” Zander had an innocent soul.

  Lucas was savvier. His body straightened immediately. “Shut up,” he muttered, deliberately knocking into his little brother.

  Andrew ignored both reactions and went on telling humorous stories about his own, very rare, instances of playing hooky. Eventually he doled out more instructions and generous praise and put together a plate for their sister. Zander chattered on. Andrew felt Lucas’s eyes on him as he left the room.

  Now gales of laughter wafted up from below. They’d probably flood the house with dirty dish water.

  “I brought you dinner, Denise.” He bumped the light switch with one hand, the other balancing the heavy tray.

  He set the tray down next to the window seat, pissed because there was no sign of her anywhere, and last night he had said: “move your things into our room tomorrow”. One more strike against Little Ms. Marrow.

  If he was tired of her fucking up, imagine how she must feel. He picked the tray back up and headed for her old bedroom. Of course she wouldn’t go to ‘their’ room when she needed solace.