Five Ways to Fall by K. A. Tucker Page B

breath as I watch him exit and then I rush to throw my door shut. I hide behind it, the only place that isn’t visible to the outside world, thanks to the wall of windows. But I’m sure everyone hears the thump as my head connects with the hollow wood.
    This has to be karma, coming to take a giant bite out of my ass.

Chapter 6

    BEN
    “Nothing happened.”
    “That’s not what Kent said.”
    “Well, Kent wasn’t there, so how the hell would he know?” I sigh. “She was loaded.”
    “Since when is a girl too drunk for Ben Morris?”
    “Dude.” I shoot a glare at Mason as we find a park bench in the shade to help ward off the September midday heat, drinks and lunch in hand. Jack had to cancel plans due to a client emergency. Apparently that happens a lot.
    He holds his hands up. “Sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that.”
    I watch him as he carefully unfolds and smooths three napkins over his lap and then surgically unravels some weird veggie-tofu-wrap shit, careful not to let so much as a shred of lettuce fall out. We’ve all teased Mason about his chick diet for years, but the guy’s so particular about things, he can’t even be shamed into a greasy burger. I kind of like that about him. “Are you going to eat that or marry it?”
    “You saw her office, right?” he asks, ignoring me. “She’s a slob. Living with her is a fucking nightmare.” That’s two f-bombs dropped by Mason today. Swearing is another thing he doesn’t do, which tells me that either the idea of me screwing around with his stepsister or his stepsister in general really gets under his skin.
    A flash of my trashed hotel room in the morning hits me and I smile to myself. “And yet she sure cleans up nice.” I get an eye roll in response. “Look, I know she’s your stepsister, but she’s fucking hot.” As much as I liked the “I don’t give a shit” wild-girl look she had going on in Cancún, this new look—with her pretty blond hair and her little dress and her boots—is a huge turn-on.
    “And certifiable.” He fixes me with a look. “Seriously. Her nickname around the office is Rancor.”
    Coke shoots out my mouth as I stifle a laugh. “Does she know?”
    “I guess you missed the life-sized cardboard standee in her office? The day she heard Nelson from contracts slip and call her that within earshot, she rush-ordered it from some Star Wars website. She sets it up beside her door on the mornings when she’s extra annoyed.” He shakes his head at me as I explode in laughter.
    For everything else about her that was a lie, I’m glad to see that biting sense of humor is genuine. I like a woman who can make me laugh. “If she’s so difficult, why would your father keep her there? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he has. I’m looking forward to working with her.”
    “You won’t be for long,” he mutters. And then sighs heavily. “Even though she’s highly unprofessional and will likely get the firm sued on employee relations issues at some point, I’ll admit that she’s really good at what she does. All she has is a high school diploma and a paralegal certificate and yet she’s telling half the associates how to do their jobs, quoting laws and statutes. And she’s usually right. It’s disturbing, how fast she picks up on things.”
    “So you’re saying she’s a genius,” I say around a mouthful of food.
    “Yeah, maybe,” he says with a hint of resentment in his voice. “She’s also selfish, reckless, unreliable, and impulsive.” He downs his Perrier and mutters dryly, “All signs of a sociopath.”
    “Oh, hell.” I roll my eyes. I forgot that Mason did his undergrad in psychology. “Give me a break. Your sister’s not a sociopath, Mace! You just really don’t like her, do you?”
    “Stepsister,” he corrects, his tone sharpening a little. “It’s not that I don’t like her. Well . . .” He half-shrugs. “I’ll admit, I’m not overly fond of her. But really, I just don’t trust