Hot Maine Men Boxed Set (Hot Maine Men Series, Books 1 & 2)

by Remy Rose

“You said that it had been a while, Callaway...how long? I can’t imagine a crazy-sexy woman like you wouldn’t have guys lining up outside your door.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve pretty much kept to myself. For about two years.”

  His expression is so incredulous it’s almost comical. “Two years? You haven’t been with anyone in two years?”

  “It’s been mostly self-induced. I had my best friend and people at work wanting to fix me up, but I just wasn’t ready, or even interested.”

  “Until me.”

  I’m blushing again. “Right.”

  “Wow. Well, I’m flattered. But seriously, two years…I’d be dead.”

  I have to giggle at this. And agree with him.

  “Sorry you were out of commission for that long, Callaway. Hey…commission. There’s a real estate term for you.”

  “Well done. Do you want to have a drink with me? Here, or we could go somewhere?”

  “A glass of water would be great, thanks.”

  “I made a blueberry cobbler if you’d like some.”

  “Sounds awesome, but I’m headed to the gym in a few.”

  So he’s clearly not staying. Cheer up, I console myself. You just had an orgasm.

  As we walk downstairs and into the kitchen, I keep my tone casual. “So, Jack, I’m wondering. How do we...do this?”

  He looks at me quizzically, leaning up against my counter and folding his arms. “Do what?”

  “Our alliance. I mean, I know that it will last for just...” I swallow. “...the time that you’re working here, but what do you see happening between us?”

  “I see us enjoying the hell out of each other.”

  I open the fridge and taking out two bottles of spring water. “What do you see us doing in terms of enjoying each other? Like how often, and where, and what kind of—”

  He interrupts me, which is just as well, since I’m starting to annoy even myself.

  “So you’re clearly the planning type, huh, Callaway? I usually like to make things up as I go along, but here’s a tentative overview. I’m only giving you the basics, because I like to keep the element of intrigue. And I like to see what you like, what you’ll let me get away with.” He winks devilishly.

  Jesus. I feel a flutter inside my chest.

  “How often is really your call—I’m up for anything. So to speak. As far as where, probably here, mostly, if that’s okay with you, but I’ve been known to get creative. And if you’re curious about an itinerary, I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy. From what I’ve learned about you so far, you may want me to go fast, because...well, it’s been two years—but you need me to go slow, because you’re cautious. Which is cool, because I pride myself on my self-control. And the build-up makes it so much more intense.” He levels me with his gaze. “There will be time, later, once you feel more comfortable and you trust me, for me to just take you—fast. Hard. I guarantee you’ll like it that way. My basic modus operandi is to get a little more involved, more intense each time, based on what your signals or wishes are. But please know there are several ways I plan to have you, Madeline.”

  Okaayyy then. So it’s a good thing I didn’t change my underwear yet, because I’d be needing to again right now.

  He tips back his head and drinks while I drink in his lips, his throat, his pelvic region. Screwing the cap back on, he comes over to give me a quick goodbye kiss. “I’ll be here early tomorrow morning. I think our time together will be fantastic. I take great pride in satisfying women.”

  And he’s gone. My orgasmic afterglow has dulled, mainly because he said women, plural.

  Ugh.

  Will I be able to do this? Be Madeline Callaway, Sultry Vamp, for the next few weeks without messing up my heart or my head? No strings sex—but what sounds like intense no strings sex—then part ways and move on.

  Basically, I’ll need to be a guy.

  I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m scared as hell, but honestly, now that I’ve had a taste of what Jackson Decker can do to me, how can I not give it a try? He made it clear he doesn’t want anything complicated, and I certainly don’t, either.

  I’m suddenly hungry, and as I’m getting out the blueberry cobbler for me and some milk for Murphy, my phone chimes at me. Undoubtedly, Jack. A rush of pleasure as I pick it up and read the text.

  I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you. When can I see you again? We need to talk.

  I stare down at my phone in disbelief. And disgust. The text isn’t from Jack.

  It’s from my ex-husband.

  Chapter 13 ~ Jack

  July 22

  I hadn’t planned to go to the gym tonight, but I needed an excuse to leave Madeline’s, and I can definitely expend some restless energy. Once I said it, I had to follow through so it wouldn’t be a lie. It’s humid tonight, so I put up my windows, blast the AC and crank the volume on my favorite hard rock station as I drive over to Silver’s Gym in Holden. After my workout, I’ll stop at Lowe’s to pick up some sheetrock mud before heading home.

  And while I’m driving, I’ll try to make sense of what just happened with Madeline.

  Let me begin with...

  W

  T

  F.

  I’ve been with a lot of women—too many to count—and I’ve gotten off (literally) on pleasing them, but Jesus. This felt different. Maybe it had something to do with how responsive she was, and of course hearing how long it had been for her magnified everything, but it’s also about how I responded to her. We didn’t even fuck, but man, it was fierce—and I wasn’t prepared for what it would do to me to touch her, put my fingers inside her, make her come.

  Honestly? I’m wondering if hooking up with her was such a good idea. Yet I can’t back out on our alliance, number one because I do what I say I will, and number two...selfishly, I want to fuck her. Many times. Plus, we’ve got parameters already established, so it’s safe.

  Right?

  Right.

  I say hi to Julie at the check-in counter. Today being a chest day, I do some free weights and then a half hour on the treadmill. There’s a lot of eye candy here in here—a cute brunette with legs for days, a blonde whose ass looks ah-may-zing in her Spandex, a couple college-age girls who keep darting their eyes in my direction. I’m feeling more like myself, scoping them out, and I flirt a little with the brunette when we both walk toward the locker rooms at the same time. May sound dumb, but it’s like a relief I’m in player mode. That, I can do. Questioning/confused/unsure...uh, not so much.

  After a quick shower and giving the blonde my classic I think you’re fucking hot look as I leave, I drive over to Lowe’s, happy to give them business instead of New England Home Supply. Lowe’s does for me what Target does for women—definitely my happy place. Don’t think I’m weird, but I pretty much get off on looking at all the new tools—the cordless ones from Ryobi are always good for a rush.

  Plus, the manager Owen is great and a good buddy of mine. He’s at the Pro desk flipping through a catalog and is all smiles when he sees me.

  “Well, if it isn’t Big Deck. Haven’t seen you in a while. You’re not cheating on me with those guys in the orange aprons, are you?” He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously, rubbing his scruff of a beard. Owen’s a little guy, only about 5’7”, but stocky and strong as hell. I wouldn’t want to mess with him.

  “Not a chance, O. You’re the only one for me.”

  “Aw, you’ve got my heart all a-flutter.”

  “It’s what I do, bud.”

  “Ha! Yeah. Toying with the hearts of hundreds of women.”

  “But only one at a time—that’s important.”

  He shakes his head, laughing. “You’ve got quite the lifestyle, pal. Need help with anything?”

  “Nope. Just here to get some mud. Thought I’d maybe see your ugly mug and find out what’s new.”

  “You’re looking at it.”

  “How’s Dayna?”

&nb
sp; “She’s great. Teaching a couple water aerobics classes this summer and spending whatever money I make at IKEA.”

  “How long’s it been for you two, anyway?”

  “Jesus.” Owen scratches his head thoughtfully. “I think it’ll be four years this fall.”

  “Wow. So you’ve manage to fool her all this time, huh?”

  “Evidently. You’re obviously still enjoying bach-ing it?”

  “Hell yeah. The girls just keep on coming. Literally.” I grin as he cracks up.

  “Man, you’ve got more stamina than a porn star, that’s for sure.”

  The phone rings at the desk, so I raise my hand in a wave and tell him I’ll let him get back to work.

  “Come find me before you leave. We need to set up a golf date.”

  “Will do.” I go over to the tool section, lingering for a bit at the cordless miter saw before heading to the joint compound, which is what I came in for.

  Mudding...walls...Madeline Callaway up against one...now there’s a vision I want to put on repeat, but goddamn, I wish it wasn’t accompanied by this leaping sensation in my chest. Gonna need to work at keeping the feelings below the belt, where they belong. I’ve had some pretty intense fuck fests, especially over the past couple years—granted, not to this extent—but I’ve always managed to keep things short-term, light, simple.

  So I’ll maybe have to be a little more diligent about keeping a lid on this one, but I’ll do it. The four F’s philosophy, baby. Remember that?

  I sure as hell have to.

  Chapter 14 ~ Madeline

  July 25

  I usually enjoy girls’ nights, but I’m really looking forward to this one tonight. I have this fluttery, almost anxious feeling inside that’s stayed with me since being with Jack—which has been exacerbated because I haven’t seen him or heard from him. Even though I know I shouldn’t expect a thing, I still did—thought he’d send me a text just to kind of touch base, especially since he was seriously touching me. But I need to keep in mind that it’s not like we’re dating.

  Maybe if I explain it to my friends, it’ll be clearer to me. I hope. Bottom line, I need to connect with some people who get me so I can hopefully gain some insight as to how I’m going to handle these next few weeks: keep things in perspective, let go and just enjoy myself.

  And then let go of the relationship.

  Correction: alliance. Not relationship. But whatever you call it, this is the first experience with a man since my divorce. So it’s kind of a big deal. Throw that in a bowl with the fact that I’m not the type of person who takes risks...mix it all up, and you’ve got the recipe for one hot mess.

  Speaking of recipes, I’ve made a few summery apps: cucumber and avocado roll-ups, wonton wrappers filled with chili, shrimp and lime sour cream, black bean and corn salad, crab stuffed mushrooms. Kept it simple with the drinks: wine smoothies and strawberry-lemonade beer. For dessert, cake pops. They love my cake pops. Which I may or may not have sampled this afternoon. I did have to see if they came out all right. I’m just that kind of a friend.

  The food prep kept me busy a good part of the day, so I was able to relax a little with that and my Spotify jazz playlist. I dressed up the table with a pretty floral runner and picked a few poppies, cosmos and daisies for a centerpiece. I’m at the sink filling the vase with water when the cars pull in, and my house is soon filled with one of my favorite sounds: my girlfriends’ voices.

  Delaney walks in the kitchen with the Bananagrams game, followed by Amanda, owner of a fabulous Italian restaurant in Ellsworth. I hug them both, and they ooh and aah over the food on the island.

  “My freaking word,” Amanda booms, her brown eyes round with amazement. “Look at this spread. Just how fucking stressed are you?”

  She knows how I get. “Pretty stressed. But it’s kind of a good stressed.” I’m blushing already. Laney winks at me since she has some idea.

  “Ooh, I want to hear!”

  Jordan shows up a few minutes later. She’s an associate broker at the office that everyone loves because she’s so bright and bubbly, followed by Kelly, my neighbor two houses down and a stay-at-home mom with twin toddlers.

  “God, Maddie—you don’t know how much I needed this tonight.” Kelly clasps her hands dramatically, casting her eyes to the ceiling. “I love my babies more than chocolate, but today was a tornado of poopy Pull-ups, peeing in the potted plant, pulling each other’s hair, me pulling out my own hair…and that was all before breakfast.”

  “You make motherhood sound so magical. I’m glad I’m a lesbian,” Amanda smirks.

  Kelly narrows her eyes and points at her. “Lesbians can have babies. Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily.”

  “Oh, pfffft.” Amanda waves her hand dismissively. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before my uterus sees any action other than menstrual cramps.”

  Everyone’s hungry, so we eat, and the consensus is that the crab-stuffed mushrooms are borderline orgasmic. The decibel level rises in direct proportion to the number of alcoholic beverages, and I love how my kitchen sounds and feels with some of my favorite human beings here—filled up with their buoyant energy. We talk about Kelly’s dry spell in the bedroom, Amanda’s cranky but fabulous chef, Jordan’s new lawyer boyfriend, how Delaney is totally soured on men because of the pigs she works with. I tell them about the text from Paul, and they react just as I knew they would: shocked, repulsed, pissed. They immediately ask if I responded, and I tell them of course not, and a debate ensues as to whether I should have replied fuck off, or that I’ve moved on and he should, too, or if I should have just sent back a middle finger emoji. We finally all concur I did a good thing by ignoring, but Kelly warns that I may hear from him again.

  I don’t share my other stuff, about Jack. Yet.

  Laney reaches for her third? fourth? appetizer and sighs. “I love these little rolled-up pieces of heaven. They’re spicy and sweet at the same time.”

  “Mustard and soy sauce,” I inform her.

  “Mmm. Delish. You kind of outdid yourself this time, Maddie. But we’re all okay with that. Aren’t we, girls?”

  They all nod vehemently. I swish my hand at them and get up from the table to refill the wine smoothie pitcher. Murphy jumps up on the counter and I quickly lift him off.

  Amanda snorts. “Don’t pretend he doesn’t do that about seventeen times a day, because we all know he does.” They erupt in laughter.

  “Bitches. All of you,” I say, but I can’t help but smile. We take a break from eating and move into the living room with our drinks.

  “So. To recap.” Kelly settles back against the couch cushions and tucks her bare feet under her. “Jordan’s getting lots on a regular basis with a title attorney. I’m not getting any because my husband and I decided that Z’s are more important than O’s. Amanda has the hots for the chick who delivers linens to the restaurant. Laney might as well enter a convent. Which leaves...” She swings her gaze over to me, her hazel eyes lightening with curiosity. “...our hostess with the mostest.”

  I take a sip of my lemonade beer and flash my friends an alcohol-laced grin. I’m feeling good...a bit silly, naughty, ready to share. “You all know about my bathroom renovation, right?”

  Before I can say any more, Kelly squeals with delight. “Oh my gawd, you’re fucking your carpenter?!”

  All of them lean forward eagerly, their eyes sparkling with wine and anticipation.

  I shake my head, my face burning. “No.” My lips curve up. “Not...yet.

  “But that’s coming,” winks Laney. “So to speak.”

  “Carpenters are sooo hot,” Jordan gushes. “So what’s the scoop? You haven’t said anything at work!”

  “I know. It’s all really new.”

  They want to know what he looks like, and what we’ve “done,” and it feels like high school lunch gossip in the cafeteria. When I get to the part about the alliance and how it will end, there are raised eyebrows and wrinkled noses and
puzzled faces. I try to reassure them, and it strikes me that I’m also reassuring myself.

  “I’m okay with it. I mean, I have to be, right? I’m probably not even ready for a relationship. Sex without one, though...” I trail off and drain my glass. “Does this make me a slut?”

  They all nod vigorously.

  “Of course it does,” Kelly says. “But everyone is. Congratulations.”

  I bring them upstairs to see the bathroom renovation in progress. I show them the printout of the design that’s taped to the wall, and they all approve. But of course, they’re most interested in the man behind the plan.

  “I keep picturing him in his tool belt and nothing else,” sighs Jordan.

  “Sorry, he’s got the wrong parts, so the images aren’t doing anything for me.” Amanda shrugs. “But I’m happy for you, girl. And proud, too—because you’re taking a risk. You’ve needed to just say fuck it and just do something for yourself.”

  “What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” Kelly asks.

  “Jackson Decker.”

  A split-second pause, and then her eyes grow large. “Oh my God. Small world.” She reaches out to grab my arm. “That’s the guy my sister had.”

  Had, as in did some work on her house, or had, as in did some work on her? I don’t even want to ask.

  And I don’t need to, because the answer is all over her face—like she’s sympathetic and concerned and anxious that this news has upset me. “Kasey was pretty crazy about him. I think she got in deeper than she intended and had a tough time when he ended it. She said he was fantastic, though,” she adds hastily. “Really amazing.”

  “With his tools? Or with his tool?” smirks Amanda.

  “Um...both.”

  “That’s good to know, right, Maddie?” Laney flashes me an encouraging smile.

  “Yes. Very good. I’ve been happy with what he’s done so far. He’s been very...accommodating.”

  I decide to shift the attention to the actual work renovation—you know, what I hired him for. Much safer, because as needy as it sounds, I don’t want to think about Jack being with other women. “I’m planning on a rain shower-head coming down from the ceiling.”