Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,22

reveled in the MacMillan name. She rebelled. At sixteen, Cal Payton had been one hell of a way to rebel. He was everything her family wasn’t, and in her mind, that had been a good thing.

Cal had been a way to get back at her parents, but then she’d gone and fallen in love with him.

Dylan, however, fed into the whole MacMillan name, demanding respect because of who he was rather than what he did. He’d been a bully growing up, plain a simple. A bully who used words and money rather than fists.

“Do you . . . ” Jenna hesitated. “Do you think he should have won that discrimination lawsuit?”

Pete looked sick. “Please don’t make me answer that.”

“Shit.” Jenna felt as sick as Pete looked. That was all the answer she needed. She placed a hand on Pete’s arm. “I’m going to try to get this company back on track, in the eyes of the employees and of the community.”

Pete nodded. “Your father is . . . well, he’s your father. But at the end of the day, he does good work, and this business supplies a lot of jobs. This place matters, but your brother . . . ” His voice trailed off.

“It’s so hard because it’s family,” she said softly.

“I know.” He sighed. “I need to get home to the wife and kids, but if there’s anything I can do, let me know, okay?”

Jenna nodded. “I appreciate your talking to me.”

He smiled as he backed away. “Any time.”

Jenna watched him as he turned around, back hunched as he dug in his pocket for his keys. She sighed and continued walking to her car.

Her relationship with Dylan had always been complicated. He was her brother, and the importance of family had been drilled into her every waking moment. Yet she had nothing in common with him except they’d been conceived by the same parents. And as time went on, Jenna even questioned that. She tried to find anything good in Dylan, but other than his work ethic and dedication to the family business; there wasn’t much. So to hear that his attitude was threatening the foundation of what her father worked for made her angry.

This business mattered to a lot of people. It mattered to this town. And her brother wasn’t going to mess it up.

She reached her car and slid into the front seat. She wanted to go home and not think about it until Monday, but unfortunately, she was going to have to sit across from her brother for an entire meal. Which would be hard, because right now, she wanted to stab him with a fork.

Their relationship had always been tainted with a competitiveness that she hadn’t wanted to participate in. Dylan was always, always trying to one-up her, to make himself look better by making her look worse.

She’d always wanted a close sibling, someone to joke around with about family holidays, someone she’d be happy to have as the aunt or uncle to her children. It was one of the reasons she’d been so attracted to Cal. In his own way, he was fiercely loyal to his family and to his brothers. They had a camaraderie she’d only dreamed of as a kid. A camaraderie she’d dreamed of replicating with her own Payton brood. A dream that would never come to fruition, especially after that disastrous make-out session in Cal’s tow truck.

Jenna turned the ignition in her Honda and listened as the engine rumbled to life. She put the car in drive and made her way out of the parking lot to head home. The car was all fixed up now. Brent had recommended she get two new tires, and she’d give him the approval. Of course, she hadn’t heard a peep from Cal. He never called, and he hadn’t been there when she picked up her car.

It’d been a week since that night Cal had dropped her off at her house, and she felt like she was going through the stages of grief. First, she’d been in denial. She pretended it never happened. That lasted for a whole couple of hours before her brain switched right into anger. That stage . . . well, actually she was still in that stage.

She was pissed.

Maybe this had been something Cal had to get out of his system. He had to show her he could still light up her body and scramble her brain. And then once he did that, he could wipe his hands clean