Romeo (Payne Brothers Romance Book 6)

by Sosie Frost

  “The world can’t handle that much raw sexual prowess.”

  He was a goofball, a flirt, and made for a very unfortunate love of my life, but that didn’t mean he was wrong.

  I sighed. “You’re right. We need to do something, and we need to do it fast. Family is the most important thing in this world, but we can’t let it destroy everything else. Especially this town.” I shrugged. “But I’m not sure how we can fix things.”

  Quint liked the challenge. “It will be hard. Things have changed these past few years. Especially with my family.”

  “You don’t seem much different.”

  “That’s on purpose,” he said. “Believe me.”

  “Staying grounded?”

  He lost his smile. “Something like that. When everything else is changing, sometimes a guy needs a little stability, you know?”

  “I guess so.”

  “The more things change, the more I end up back in the fields. Almost like a kid again, but the farm’s doing real good. Looks nice with all the crops coming in. I’ve been helping Jules a lot. He was always supposed to be on a football field, not mucking around in corn, but he seems to like it. Even with the stress. Helps that he has Micah and his son. Makes the work easier.”

  “The farm suits you.” I wondered how much I could say without revealing too much. “It always did. I know my brothers used to tease you guys—the muddy boots and straw in your hair. But your family always worked hard. It took my brothers a long time to learn but not everything is handed to us by our parents. Sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty.”

  “They were plenty dirty, Lady,” he said. “You never saw the trouble they caused.”

  “A Barlow never causes trouble.”

  He snorted. “Well, when you’ve got all the money in town, you can buy forgiveness.”

  So he would think. “Maybe my brothers didn’t get detention or chased around by Sheriff Samson, but they got something worse.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Widow Barlow—otherwise known as Grandma.”

  “Sounds pretty rough.”

  Grandma was a complicated lady who wouldn’t tolerate tomfoolery, shenanigans, or her precocious granddaughter attempting to characterize her in any way except godly.

  “She’s actually a wonderful woman,” I said. “Once you get to know her…and how far she can swing the cane. But I can talk to her. And, more importantly, I know what not to say to her.”

  Quint nodded. “You’re close with her?”

  “Closest in the family.”

  He glanced over the room. “Should I be scared?”

  “Well, you’ve trespassed on her property, broken into her guesthouse, and are speaking with her half-naked granddaughter after midnight…which makes this the Sabbath. However, if she hasn’t clocked you over the head with her cane yet, I think you’re safe for now.”

  “She might make this difficult.”

  Not exactly. “Grandma finds the feud unseemly. It’s Duke and Marquis who will be impossible to convince.”

  I reached for the bottle of wine, offering Quint a glass. He hesitated before shaking his head.

  “Can’t. Don’t have my insulin.” He didn’t let me ask questions, gesturing for me to have a drink. “You think they’re bad? Wait until I tell Marius.”

  “He’s running for mayor,” I said. “He might want to unite the community.”

  “The community? Sure. Our families? Hell no. He’s needed a new war since the last one lost him his leg. And sure, he’s got his new baby girl and his girlfriend, Gretchen, but that’s not his usual battleground. He’s always looking for a fight. That’s what makes it weird.”

  “Makes what weird?”

  Quint reached around the pillow, retrieving my white stuffed teddy bear that I’d had at my bedside since I was a child. He grinned, but he said nothing, snuggling it at his side.

  “For so long, Marius was always trying to get away from the family,” he said. “He joined the Navy and hid halfway around the world just to spite us. Hell, a year ago? He would’ve blown up his other leg for a chance to stay away. But now, he’s changed. Met the girl of his dreams. Started a family. Seems like he’s a completely new man.”

  “He was always a good man. Only needed to find himself.”

  Quint stared at my ceiling. “Everyone says that. I don’t buy it.”

  “Nobody really knows what they want until they find out what they’re missing.”

  “Read that in a fortune cookie?”

  “No.” I stuck my tongue out. “It’s something Grandma always said. Everyone needs something. Family. Friends. Romance. It takes a lot of courage to go out in the world and find that happiness for yourself.”

  “No one has to find happiness.” His voice hardened. “It’s all around you. Pick up a cute girl from the bar. Have a good night. Wake up the next day. Work in the sun. Have a big dinner. There. You’re happy.”

  Who was he trying to convince? “That’s not happiness.”

  “Of course, it is.” Quint pushed away from the bed and paced the room. His hand tease through his hair, frustrated. “What else do you need? Sex. Food. Work. That’s life.”

  “What about love?” The word trembled from my lips. “That’s the most important part of life.”

  “I already said sex.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  He flashed a devilish smile. “It’s the means to the same end.”

  I was going to need more wine for this. “You know that’s not true.”

  “There’s nothing better than that heat, that lust and hunger that comes before a night of good sex.” His green eyes discovered too many of my secrets. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

  Yeah, right. “What about forging a connection with someone? Staring into her soul? Moving within her and feeling a real intimacy and closeness as you understand her needs and desires?”

  He didn’t even attempt to disguise his laughter. “You really are a virgin, Ladybug.”

  Disappointment panged in my chest. I masked it with a big gulp of wine. “Don’t you make fun of me for being romantic.”

  “It’s cute,” he said. “You sound like Varius.”

  Not what a girl wanted to hear. “I sound like a minister?”

  “Yeah. He’s always rambling on and on about finding the one. Soulmates. Uniting with people.” He shrugged. “It’s like a God thing. I don’t know. Cassi’s the only one who listens to his sermons. We sit in the back and try to start the wave.”

  “Well now I have a newfound respect for Varius Payne. Glad I know that he’s the same man on the pulpit as he is behind closed doors.”

  “He wasn’t for a while.” A sadness crept into his voice. “After the tornado hit, he spent a good year living at home. Depression.”

  I remembered. “I was at the church when it happened.”

  “All of us were.”

  “It was a miracle so few people were harmed.”

  “Took him a while to realize that.” Quint had a hard time standing still. He surveyed the room, picking up and putting down nearly every knickknack on the dresser just to keep busy. “He says it was Glory who fixed him. Put him back on the right track.”

  Which proved my point. “He found love. And through love, happiness. And peace. And forgiveness. Seems worth it, wouldn’t you say?”

  He chuckled. “Well it started as a one-night stand. Nothing but sex. They didn’t even know each other’s names.”

  Damn it. “You make it sound dirty.”

  “It is dirty. But that’s what makes it fun. That’s what makes life exciting.”

  “Rampant hedonism?”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Ask your brother Tidus.”

  Quint quieted, and I regretted the words as soon as I said them. Tidus Payne had worked hard to earn his reputation in town. The worst reputation. Drugs. Alcohol. Problems with the law. For a long time, it seemed one of the Paynes with the g
reatest potential was determined to ruin every chance he had.

  “Tidus changed,” Quint said. “He’s different now.”

  That rumor had passed through the town, but most of Butterpond reserved their judgment.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Quint only got serious when talking about his family. “It’s the truth. I know what your brothers say about Tidus and our nephew. But if Tidus believes Spencer didn’t vandalize the market, then so do I. And if this is gonna work, you gotta believe us too.”

  That was the catch. “It’s easier said than done. Taking the word of a man like Tidus will be a challenge for my family.”

  “It won’t be, once he’s back in town. You’ll see. He’s sober. Working hard with his girl now. Honey and him have been traveling to every food competition up and down the East Coast. He’s working from sunup till sundown every damn day, selling barbecue. He doesn’t have time to fuck up his life anymore. And he’s got all the reason to stay on the right path now that he’s got her.”

  I grinned. “So…he found love, and now he’s a better man?”

  Quint tossed the teddy bear at my head. “What’s with you? Love, sex, it’s all the same thing. Just a means to get through the day, and a way to sleep through the night. Sex is something to look forward to so you’re not…”

  He trailed off, but I didn’t want him to lose that thought. Not when it seemed as if he desperately needed to finish it.

  It didn’t sound like the Quint Payne I knew. He spoke like somebody else, somebody hurting. Someone I didn’t recognize.

  Quint wasn’t the type of guy to keep secrets, but he was the sort who would never let anybody know when something was wrong.

  I prodded him with a shrug. “So, you’re not what?”

  His smile returned. “So, you aren’t always thinking there’s something more to life—a grand plan or scheme or something to find.”

  “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” I said. “Happiness begins with health, love, and family.”

  He mocked disappointment with a snap of his fingers. “Well, one out of three ain’t bad.”

  “Quint—”

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grinned at me, somehow exploiting his ADD into a perfect machine for all his plans, machinations, and schemes.

  “I know how we’re going to end this feud,” he said. “I need you to meet me tomorrow morning.”

  I crossed my arms. “And where am I meeting you?”

  “In the church’s rec room.”

  Oh, this wasn’t going to be easy. “Don’t tell me we need Jesus’s help?”

  “And probably the devil’s.” He winked. “Tomorrow, the knotters—and my sister—have a meeting in the church. And, thanks to someone finagling with the schedule, the knitters—and your sister, Regent—have double-booked the space. You follow?”

  “Oh. You want to start a war.”

  He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. “Cassi is a soft target. She’s kind, compassionate, and utterly obsessed with everything family and Butterpond. If we get her on our side, the rest of the family won’t stand a chance. She’s so tenacious that after one family dinner, I guarantee the Paynes will be banging down your brothers’ doors just to get her off their backs.” He seemed proud of the plan. “But this all depends on Regent. What she like?”

  I only laughed.

  “Trust me,” he said. “It’s an immersive therapy. We’ll force the two of them into a confined, neutral space, let them bash their heads together, and make them understand that the only way forward is to make peace. Believe me, Cassi will be all for it, especially if it means she can invite even more people to her wedding.”

  Was he insane? “You want to do this in public? After twenty years of resentment, rivalry, and feuds?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you don’t think it’d be better to invite them to talk somewhere private, far away from innocent bystanders and little old ladies who don’t have the cartilage left in their hips to duck and cover when this all goes nuclear?”

  “It’ll be fine,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “And what happens to the girls who trust you?”

  He smirked. “All sorts of dark and twisted things. What do you say?”

  “I think you’re crazy.”

  “Perfect. Then there’s only one thing left.”

  “Living wills?”

  “Nope.”

  I checked my phone. I had budgeted a majority of the night for a sensual, secret rendezvous, so we had more than enough time to form a real plan of attack.

  “I’ll get my laptop,” I said. “We can start jotting down ideas. Come up with a way to present this proposition without destroying both of our families. Maybe work out fire exits and small windows where Regent and Cassi might try to escape…”

  “Hell no.” Quint grabbed my arm before I could find the graph paper. “I got this covered, Ladybug. All you gotta do is show up.”

  Unsurprisingly, this was not a comforting declaration from a man who couldn’t manage to match his socks.

  I shrugged. “I can help—”

  “Don’t need help. Just need you to back me up.” Quint had yet to release me, and his fingers drew tiny circles over my palm. “Are we partners?”

  “In every unsatisfying definition of the word.”

  “Seal it with a kiss?”

  He was unbelievable.

  “Are you kidding?” I asked.

  “I never kid about kisses.”

  I rolled my eyes. “But your entire philosophy on love is a joke.”

  “There you go again, talking about love.” He intertwined his fingers with mine, and I hid my shiver with a fake sigh. “All we’re doing is settling an agreement.”

  “Don’t people usually handshake?”

  “Handshakes are so formal. A kiss is much more binding.”

  “I hate to wonder how you think our families will eventually make peace.”

  “We can celebrate for them.” He said.

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “Just hopeful.”

  So was I, but a good dose of humiliation was as effective as a bucket of cold water over my head. Now, I could think clearly and rationally, distracted only by the thong wedged so deep in my nethers it would take an adventurous sexual partner to extract them.

  “I’m not just giving kisses away,” I said. “Especially over such risky propositions.”

  Quint edged toward the bed. His dimples reappeared, and nothing good could from them.

  “No risk here,” he said. “You know exactly what you’re getting with me.”

  “I’m supposed to kiss a man who says good night under the covers?”

  “We can get under the covers if you want.”

  Been there, learned my lesson about that. “You, Quint Payne, are a flirt.”

  “You should try it.”

  “Can’t,” I said. “I’m a girl who takes her kisses seriously.”

  “Well, I’m very serious about getting a kiss from you.”

  I poked a finger into his chest and pushed him to the window. “You want a kiss, you better earn it.”

  “How?”

  “If your crazy idea works tomorrow, I’ll think about giving you a kiss.”

  “But it’s not fair to you to get a kiss from me with no preparation. If you don’t know what to expect, you might just melt on the spot.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “And I’ll get that kiss.”

  That smile would get me into more trouble than I could imagine.

  His kiss would be worse.

  “You’re in over your head.” I warned him with a tap to my lip. “These right here? Not just lips. They’re commitment magnets. One kiss, and you’ll drag me to the altar.”

  “Then I get you all to myself for the rest of our lives…” He shrugged. “Could think of worse tortures.”

  “But I’m gonna save you the heartache.”

&nb
sp; “Never been afraid of a risk.”

  And that’s what made us so different. He was spontaneous and wild, bursting through windows in the middle of the night with a smile and a scheme. I was calculating and precise—which made it all the more imperative that I got him out of the room before he discovered my Seduction To-Do List which included pep-talks, stickers, and estimated times for makeup, hair, and foreplay.

  And the dirty doodles.

  Definitely not something to share.

  I shooed him out the window and into the tree. “You can use the door next time, Quint.”

  He hummed. “So…there will be a next time?”

  That remained to be seen. My first one-night stand had almost killed me, resulting in curling iron burns, three cuts to my leg, and a bout of nerves that drowned the butterflies in my stomach with acid. Worst part was—I didn’t even get to have sex.

  “We’ll…see how it goes tomorrow,” I said.

  “Good. When you see what a rousing success my plan is, I’ll be your damned hero.” His tease promised more than a kiss. “And we’ll see what happens tomorrow night.”

  He was insufferable.

  Arrogant. Crude. An absolute scoundrel.

  And I’d never wanted him more.

  “You better dream about me tonight, Quint Payne,” I said.

  “Hell no.”

  My smile fell. “Why not?”

  His voice carried in the darkness—a caramel sweet baritone that caressed me with promises.

  “Because if I wake up without you, I’ll be too fucking disappointed.”

  4

  Quint

  I’d learned long ago that surviving in Butterpond meant a Payne man didn’t fuck with three specific groups of people:

  The Barlows.

  The township parking commission.

  And the little old ladies in the knitting clubs.

  We could handle the Barlows, and a couple tickets only drained a wallet. But getting shanked by a needle still darning a pair of socks? That was rough.

  So I watched my ass, but I still got slammed into the church doors by an honorary member of the Knitter’s Korner.

  Lady attempted to look tough.

  She failed, but it was cute.

  “Where have you been?” She hissed.

  Lady prided herself on having everything under control…until she didn’t.