Rough Edge

by Landish, Lauren

  I grab my phone and push Todd’s contact number. While it rings, I breathe, attempting to settle my rage.

  “Hello.” Todd sounds groggy, probably on pain meds. His burns were significantly worse than mine, but he’s recovering at home now after being discharged from the burn unit four days after the accident. We’ve already done the ‘are you okay . . . thank you’ phone call that was more than awkward for us both, but that’ll be nothing compared to this call.

  “Todd.” One more breath.

  “Rix?” He sounds more awake now, and nervous.

  “Got your Challenger over here. Ed let me tow it so I could get the tank out of it and see what went wrong since I built it.” My voice is steady and calm, nothing like my pulse, which is racing so fast I’m feeling it in my legs where the burns are still healing.

  “You do?” Todd says slowly. “Rix, I can explain—”

  I cut him off, growling. “Who did your install? Because this isn’t my work.”

  He sighs, the sound heavy even through the phone. “I did it. I talked to a couple of guys on a forum, and they told me what to get and how to install it to get a few more horses out of it. It was running perfectly. I don’t know what happened.”

  He’s running from self-righteous to confused. I’m running from mad to fucking furious.

  “Guys on a forum? Holy shit, man, you could’ve been seriously injured!” His burns aren’t anything to sneeze at, literally because it’s an infection risk according to my discharge paperwork, but people have died from their nitro going wrong. “Todd, you are a great racer. But that’s different from getting under the hood and you fucking know it. You don’t know shit about installing high-performance nitrous systems.”

  There are some racers who can wrench, and some wrenchers who can race, but more often than not, the two don’t cross, especially not with the specs Todd runs. I’m an abnormality, and to be fair, I’m more of a mechanic who happens to be decent behind the wheel. I’m not even half as good of a driver as Todd is. But he’s shit for a mechanic.

  “I’m sorry, Rix. Do you know what happened?”

  He sounds genuinely apologetic and worried, though probably more about his Challenger than either of our injuries. That car is his baby the same way Foxy is mine. “Your safety disk burst because it was a cheap piece of shit and you were demanding too much of it. I told you that you were maxed.”

  “Can you fix it?”

  I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me and follow it up with a haughty sigh. “Of course I can. It’s gonna cost you, though, because I’ll have to pull the whole system and check everything for fire damage. And send it out for paint work.”

  “Of course. Blank check, just fix it. Please.” I swear he sounds on the verge of tears, and I wonder what kind of pain pills he’s on. Good stuff, apparently.

  “I’ll be in touch when it’s done.” I hang up, glaring balefully at the Challenger like it betrayed me.

  Dad looks at me, lips curled in a smile. “You are something else, honey.”

  The pride in the pat he gives my shoulder says that we’re okay. I’m so glad.

  I thought that he would be mad and would be disappointed in me, and he was. But he’s getting over it quicker than I expected. Maybe we didn’t give each other enough credit? All I know is that I have my dad back, closer than ever before, and I still have racing, the garage, and Brody.

  It couldn’t be more perfect.

  “Where do you want to start?” Dad asks, excitement shining in his eyes.

  Boys and their toys. Well, and me and my toys. We’ll do anything for them.

  Chapter 29

  Brody

  “Mark, will you say grace?” Mama Louise says. Everyone bows their head and he repeats the same thing he does every night. But tonight, he adds to the end . . .

  “ . . .and thank you for bringing more good people to the table. Amen.”

  We lift our heads, and Mark doesn’t so much as look at Erica, but I know he was giving his stamp of approval. Not that I need it, and not that he hasn’t already given it and warned me not to fuck this up because she’s way out of my league, but it’s a kind gesture. Erica smiles his way, only to finally be greeted by his blank stare. Fucker.

  We pass the platters around, serving ourselves meatloaf, green beans, new potatoes, and cornbread. “Do you have any Tabasco?” Erica asks Mama Louise.

  Blink. Blink. Blink.

  All around the table, brows knit together.

  “Of course, dear.” Mama Louise grabs the Tabasco sauce from the pantry and hands it to Erica.

  She starts shaking the bottle over her meatloaf, and I can’t bite my tongue any more as horror settles in my stomach. “What in the world are you doing?” I ask, editing myself for Mama Louise.

  Erica looks at me, attitude and challenge in her expression. “You put ketchup on yours. I put Tabasco on mine.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Cooper announces. “Ketchup and Tabasco.”

  Brutal jumps in. “This coming from a kid who puts ranch on literally everything.”

  Erica cuts off a too-big bite with her fork and moans loudly as she eats. “Mmm, delicious as always, Mama Louise. I think this is even better than Hank’s. Especially with the little extra kick added.” She’s proud of herself, her smile so big I can nearly see the food in her mouth.

  “Thank you, Rix.”

  As she cuts another bite, she adds, “Know what else is good, Cooper?” She’s got his attention now. “Ice cream with popcorn sprinkles.”

  “Can we try that, Mom?” he instantly begs Allyson.

  There is zero shame or regret on her face until Allyson says yes. “Of course, Cooper. Rix can make you some tonight after we play cornhole. Bruce and I need to go over and check the progress on the house, so that’d be perfect.”

  Well, shit. Erica just walked us into getting cockblocked by a kid. And I know damn well that Brutal and Allyson aren’t checking the progress of their house in the dark. I guess that’s how they avoid being heard fucking . . . they get someone else to watch Cooper and take off in the truck. More than I need to know about my brother, but I’m damn sure storing that trick away for Erica and me. And also, I’m never getting in Brutal’s truck again.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Erica fist-bumps Cooper from across the table.

  Shayanne starts humming under her breath, and I instantly recognize the tune. Another One Bites The Dust.

  I grin, not fighting it anymore. I’m all in with Erica, for as long as she’ll have me. She’s it for me.

  And I know I’m it for her. Because I love her just as she is and accept all of her, even the prickly parts that made her a badass on the day we met and a badass every day since then.

  Bobby shakes his head mournfully. “Last man standing.” He points his fork at each of the women at the table. “And that is not a challenge. If anything, I challenge you to let me live in peace. Me and my guitar.”

  Rookie mistake. He just painted a big ol’ target on his back.

  Over dinner, we talk about the new cattle, who are doing well and blended with the main herd, the rising price of hay, and Cooper’s latest building project, a birdhouse for the tree in Mama Louise’s yard. Then the conversation turns to Brutal and Allyson’s wedding, and all hope for any other topic is lost as they discuss their plan to turn the foundation of their new home into a wedding venue with the addition of some rugs. I don’t get it at all, but Katelyn and Allyson say they have a ‘vision’ and I don’t doubt that they’ll come up with something beautiful.

  After dinner and the dishes are done, we head outside for a cornhole tournament. “The first bracket is Erica versus Cooper,” Shayanne announces. “Watch out for that one, girl. He’s little but he’s got good aim.”

  Erica looks Cooper, who is only a couple of inches shorter than she is, up and down and grins. “Me too.”

  Their game is the upset of the night when Erica wins, but Cooper quickly forgives her when she loses to Bobby on the n
ext bracket. Bobby takes on Shayanne, and most everyone gathers in the yard to cheer on the close game. Except Erica and Cooper, who take off to catch fireflies.

  I sit on the porch, sipping at a Budweiser and watching the two of them run around. Erica’s good with kids. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. Or maybe she’s just good with Cooper because he’s bit of a spitfire himself. Her soul probably recognizes a kindred spirit.

  Mama Louise drops into the chair next to me. “Pretty evening, huh?”

  I grunt and take another sip, avoiding the conversation she’s trying to start because I’m still me, even if I have grown a bit.

  “You don’t have to talk. I know how you boys are, but I’ve spent a lot of years reading people, especially stubborn, grumpy old men, and I’m perfectly happy to carry the conversation myself and say what I want to say.”

  ‘Old?’ Hardly. The rest I won’t argue with.

  “You’re almost there, Brody. I can see it for you, the future you’ve been quietly dreaming of.”

  She looks at me, and though I fight it, my head turns and I meet her eyes. Once upon a time, I thought she’d been a godsend, helping Mom and helping us through a rough spot, and then she was gone from my life. Another of Dad’s doings with his piss-poor decisions.

  But the joke’s on him in the end, because Mama Louise has a heart bigger than the sun when it fills the whole horizon, and when we needed her like never before, she came through. I will never be able to repay her for what she’s done for my family. For me.

  “Thank you. For everything,” I say quietly, my voice rough and scratchy like I haven’t used it in too long.

  She nods, not needing the thanks but appreciating it all the same. “Keep at it. You’ve got your family to a good place, and now you’re finally letting yourself live too.” She puts her hand on my arm, squeezing tight. “Your parents would be proud of the man you’ve become. You took the best of both of them—”

  I open my mouth to contradict her.

  “Don’t argue with me about your Dad. Paul had his demons, but don’t we all?” She lifts a brow, telling me to shut my mouth, and I oblige this time, not sure what to say. “You took the best of both of them and grew into a man with a good heart, a strong work ethic, and a mouth fouler than the Devil himself.” For once, she says it like it’s a compliment instead of her typical reminder to watch our language, something I’ve never quite understood.

  I smile, hiding it with a sip of Bud, and she goes back to watching Erica and Cooper run around and Bobby and Shayanne play cornhole. But after a second, I give her more.

  “When I lost the farm . . .” I clear my throat, not used to opening myself like this. “It could’ve gone . . . I could’ve gone wrong, turned into Dad. He lost the most important thing to him, and so did I, in a way. I’m not diminishing how important Mom was or how much losing her hurt, but that farm became a barometer of sorts. And I lost it. I felt like a failure. Hell, I still do sometimes. But I won’t always be. I’m going to buy it back from you one day.”

  It’s both a promise and a notice of my intentions. I don’t want her, or the rest of the Bennetts, to get too comfortable with the Tannen farm on their books. It’s temporary. I have to believe that.

  She nods agreeably. “I don’t know many things that would make me happier than signing your farm back over to you. Trust me, Brody . . . I’m just holding it for you. Safekeeping it for when you’re ready for those roots again.” She points at Erica, who’s managed to catch a firefly, but before it can get injured in her gently cupped hands, she sets it free. Her arms are spread wide, her smile is bright in the dim porchlight, and her dark hair blows wildly in the soft breeze. “I think you’ve got some more flying to do first, though. Enjoy it. Enjoy each other. Let us do the heavy lifting for a bit while you take care of you the way you’ve been taking care of everyone else. Take the time you need to just be.”

  My throat is too tight to respond this time, so I grunt. She chuckles and pats my arm again. “I’ll do the popcorn and ice cream deal with Cooper tonight. I like trying new things. Keeps me young. Though I do think he’s right. Tabasco on meatloaf sounds disgusting.”

  “Thanks,” I manage to say.

  Both of us having said what we needed to, we companionably go back to watching the cornhole tournament. It’s gotten heated, with Mark and Katelyn somehow playing against each other.

  “Katelyn’s gonna win,” Mama Louise asserts confidently.

  I raise a brow. “You think? Mark’s good, and competitive as . . . heck.”

  She smiles at my stilted correction. “He is both of those things. But I didn’t raise him to be a stupid man, and he will make sure Katelyn wins that match because it’ll give her something to hold over him. Mark my words.”

  In the end, she’s right. As always.

  * * *

  “Come on, let’s go to bed.” I step over Murphy, who’s ‘guarding’ the front room and waiting for Brutal to come home.

  “So romantic,” Erica teases, but she slips her hand into mine. “Is that what passes for a pickup line these days?”

  She’s baiting me on purpose and we both know it.

  “You wanna get picked up?” I smirk at her for a split second before taking her by the waist and flipping her over my shoulder, heading to the stairs.

  “Brody Tannen! Put me down!” she yells, pinching my butt, but it doesn’t hurt through my jeans, so I laugh and smack her ass. She squeals, kicking her feet. Luckily, I make it to my room before she kicks anything important, and I toss her to the center of the bed, enjoying the way she bounces and the fire in her eyes. “You’re gonna pay for that,” she warns.

  “Bring it,” I counter, yanking my shirt over my head and throwing it in the general vicinity of the dirty clothes pile.

  Her eyes dilate when she sees my bare chest before grinning dark and dirty, rising to stand in the middle of the bed in her bare feet. She gives zero warning before she launches herself at me, latching onto my front with her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms around my shoulders. Her teeth nip at my neck, her tongue soothing the nibbles, and she whispers hotly in my ear, “Remember, you asked for this.”

  She licks down my shoulder, leaning back to blanket my chest with open-mouthed kisses. Her legs untwine, and she kneels on the bed, still working her way down my abdomen. Her tongue traces the skin at the waist of my jeans while her hands work the button and zipper down. I help shove them to the floor, stepping out and standing before her naked and rock-hard while she’s still in her shorts and a Ford T-shirt that’s seen better days.

  She takes my cock in her hand, roughly stroking me as she lowers her mouth to taste the precum on the head. No hesitation, no easing into it, she’s full-throttle as always, jacking and sucking me hard right from the get-go. “Fuck, Erica.”

  The words are half-formed grunts as I bury my hands in her hair and thrust with her strokes to get as much cock in her mouth as she can take.

  She slurps and swallows around me, moaning against my skin. When she pauses to breathe, using only her hand for a moment, I grin down at her, knowing that I look smug as shit. “If this is how I pay, I think I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder more often.”

  “Keep thinking that, Cowboy. But you’re not coming until I let you.” The words are soft and sweet as can be, my cock cradled against her cheek, but there’s an evil glint in her eyes when she looks up at me.

  Oh, fuck. My eyes shutter closed as I groan, knowing deep inside that she’s going to destroy me. I can’t fucking wait.

  “Do your worst.”

  Her mouth engulfs me again, torturous heaven surrounding me. Her head bobbing, she teases at my balls with her free hand. When she feels them draw up, she stops everything with me right on the edge. “Uh-uh.”

  Her fingertips dance along my thighs, which feels good but is nowhere near where I need them to be.

  She takes me to the edge again, pulling back when I get too close. My legs start to buckle
at the demand to stand upright when she’s bringing me to my knees.

  “Lie down,” she tells me, climbing off the bed to stand.

  I do as I’m told, putty in her callused hands. “Yes, ma’am,” I say with a little fire left in me too.

  She pulls her T-shirt over her head, caramel nipples my instant reward, and then drops her shorts and panties. “Come here,” I tell her, hands reaching out for her.

  She shakes her head and does whatever the fuck she wants, like always. She straddles me backward, on her knees with her head toward my cock. I’d absolutely be down for sixty-nine, but she’s so damn short, she can’t suck my cock if her pussy’s in my face. “Enjoying the view?” she says, her hips swaying and her pussy just beyond my reach, even if I lift my head.

  She giggles. Well, not really because it’s Erica, but her belly jumps a little like she is. She puts her mouth back on my cock, and I decide to ride this trip to wherever she’s going. I put my hands behind my head to prop up and maximize the view so I can watch her pussy get wetter and wetter as she sucks me.

  “You like sucking me? Your cunt’s damn near dripping on my chest, Lil Bit.” She moans in agreement. “Let me have a taste of you.”

  She lifts off my cock, dropping her hips back toward me. I lick and taste as much of her as I can while she grinds against my mouth. Her hands grip my hips for leverage, and I spread her lips wide to dip my tongue inside her. Too soon, she takes her pussy away, going back to suck me.

  I never thought I’d whine about getting a blow job, but damned if she isn’t making me feel like a petulant child who just lost their favorite lollipop.

  I can’t lie back and just watch any longer. My hands trace and knead along her skin, from her thighs to her ass and waist, and my hips thrust up to meet her open mouth. “Enough, I need inside you.” My voice is more animalistic than human, demanding and forceful and at the absolute edge of sanity. She’s done this to me, driven me completely wild.