by S. E. Hall
“Oh, I’ve got it, and I’m willing to drown him inside of five seconds if you’ll whisper in my ear a little longer. Maybe slip in a lil’ tongue too.”
I smack him, not too hard, in the back of his beautiful, close-shaven head. “One more whisper, no tongue, if we win. That’s my best offer,” I taunt… and lie. “Okay, we’re ready,” I warn the Kendrick duo.
“Consider it won,” he grunts.
“Go!” Laney screams as they bum-rush us. I’m about to ask Sutton why the hell he’s not moving when the answer unfolds before me. JT plows into him… and bounces right the fuck back off, as though he’s a rubber ball that just met the unmovable force of a brick wall that is Sutton Ellis.
Seriously, Sutton didn’t even so much as flinch. Hot.
But Laney doesn’t fall, damn her tenacity, pulling on her son’s hair and using her ankles to “spur” him like a freakin’ horse, nice, and they come charging at us again. Sutton shifts, using his body and the hand not holding my thigh with sexy protectiveness, to slam into JT’s right while Laney and I grabble like a couple of slap-happy, hair-pulling high school girls who think they wanna fight, but haven’t a clue how.
“Easy, Edwina Scissorhands,” I wail. “When’d you stop biting your nails? No scratching!”
“That’s not a rule!” My loving aunt cackles, sinking her claws in for more blood.
“Boss,” Sutton — he’s called me “Boss” before, the last time we faced battle together, and I loved it then too — “Quit with the patty-cake. Waste of energy. Big moves, make ‘em count.”
“You first, Coach. Right behind ya,” I respond, in code, hoping he’s fluent.
He is. Folding both arms over my thighs and tucking his hands under them, stabilizing my mount while taunting my libido, he slams into JT’s right side again… at the exact same time I give my aunt a forceful, two-handed shove.
And down they both go.
Sutton helps me off his shoulders and we celebrate with whoops and high-fives, taking our deserved bows when the rest of the family applauds.
“We’re unstoppable today. It’s hard as hell to win twice in a row at anything in this family. I’d say that calls for a celebration. Who’s going out with me tonight?” I ask as if interested in everyone’s answer.
“Baby, we down?” JT consults Bellamy, who nods and smiles.
“We’re out, sorry.” Sky frowns. “Judd promised to take me to the movies.”
“And I have to work tonight. Some sleep beforehand would be great too.” Sutton climbs out of the pool and starts drying off… an act far too simple to justify the tingle between my thighs.
In an obligatory tone, Camden — winning some more, think I got his name right — looks at me as he says, “sounds cool. Where we going?”
No need to be glum, Chum. You’ve been an awesome date — not coming near me — allow me to return the favor by working my magic.
I find Uncle Zach’s eyes, already aimed at me and filled with knowing delight. He gives one quick nod, confirming he’s on board.
God, I love my clan — the way we all hold “silent conversations” with each other, and often — we rock.
Zach and I now both peek over at my dad, also always “in the know,” sporting a shit-eating grin and gearing up for the execution of our wordlessly decided mission.
And… Action!
“Y’all should go to Lit, that’d be perfect,” Dad casually tosses it out there, waiting for Uncle Dane to bite. We wait, but there’s not even a nibble, so he slathers more stink on the bait. “That way, Sutton can work and celebrate, plus, I know you’ll all be safe with my people watching you.”
JT opens his mouth, ready to defend his manhood by declaring that he doesn’t need “Dad’s people” watching anyone, he’s got it, but I shoot him the patented “STFU glare” just in time. He closes said mouth, and… cue Zach.
“But what about Brynny? She’s not twenty-one. Neither is Bellamy,” Uncle Z inserts right in the gap laid for him, but his monotonic, for-shit acting could use some work. I’ll advise him later.
“Brynn’s not going to a bar!” Dane booms. There we go… hook’s in his mouth, now we just have to set it deep in his jaw and reel him in the boat.
Enter stage left: the Presley/JT tag-team.
“Uncle Dane, they’ll stamp their hands ‘under twenty-one.’ As if it’s even needed. No one’s gonna serve minors, especially ones related to him, in Daddy’s ba… uh… establishment,” I coerce in my Princess voice.
‘Now, you may talk,’ I tell JT with my bulging eyeballs and subtle nod.
“Yeah, Dad, chill. You know I won’t let anything happen to Brynn, or Bellamy. Sutton and Camden will be there too. I swear, she’ll be fine.” JT seamlessly picks up where I leave off. Synchronized Squading — a true art form.
“Laney, your children are trying to bullshit me!”
“No, Caveman, they’re not.” She sits on his lap and plays with his hair. Atta girl, Aunt… she’s caught what we’re throwing, and that, Dear Uncle Dane, means game, set, match. Poor fool.
That’s three victories. Could I be on a bigger roll today?
“Brynn and Sky haven’t said a word, so it’d just be my child, and he’s not bullshitting you. He will guard Brynn with his life, but you already know that, as do I. Therefore, she’s going.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to go.” Dane casts hopeful eyes at Brynn. “Not really your thing, is it, baby girl? You’re probably in the middle of a great book you’re dying to finish, or, weren’t you and your mom talking about some pitching practice earlier? Bet your Pops would love to work with you.”
And then he just stops talking… out of ideas and looking devastated about it.
What happens next is so fast, only those with a keen eye — which means everyone in the yard — would catch it. The sad guilt on her face fades and lil’ Brynny steals a peek at Camden before snapping her focus back to poor, slowly withering in realization, Uncle Dane. “Um, I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to hang out with everyone. Just this once. I can call Pops tomorrow.”
“But… but what about…” He’s got nothing, the last-ditch effort so mournful I almost tear up for him.
“That’s enough.” Aunt Laney puts the kibosh on doomsday. “Brynn’s growing up. Beautifully, I might add. End of story, not the world, Caveman. She’s going with them.”
“It’s started.” Uncle Dane’s head and voice drop impossibly lower. “The last one’s leaving us. One foot out the door. We’re done for, out of babies. Time to join a Bridge or Bunko club and buy our headstones. We’ll need some of those phones with the big buttons too. Jesus. How are your arches? I think mine are okay, but maybe we should grab some of those ortho pad things for our shoes while we’re at it,” he rambles, quite possibly suffering a psychotic break. What the hell is Bunko?
Laney snorts with her giant peal of laughter, kissing his cheek. “Let’s not overreact, babe. We’re still young. In our prime, actually. We both have plenty of energy left to do lots of things, alone, at the spur of the moment, when they’re gone.”
“Mother, let’s practice saving private thoughts for private conversations, maybe?” Sky’s face scrunches in disgust. “And Daddy, you’re forgetting a very important next milestone.”
“What’s that, daily doses of Metamucil and Viagra?” He groans.
“Again, filters, parentals! And no, grandbabies!”
“Judd Parker Allen, if you knocked up my-”
“Back it up, Kendrick.” Uncle Evan steps forward. “Grandchildren will be a blessing someday, made from love. My son doesn’t do any knocking up; she’s his wife.”
“You’re right, I didn’t mean that, and my mid-life crisis is no excuse. My apologies to you both,” Dane says sincerely.
“HELLO! Am I the only one who heard the important part? Oh my God, are we pregnant?” Aunt Whitley defines new decibels as her arms, legs, whole body do seizure-like things.
“Not yet, Mama,” Judd laughs
. “But, we’re not not trying.”
I grin knowingly at Sky, more a sister than cousin. “And, movies, huh? Me thinks you really meant you couldn’t go out tonight because of practice, and a new no-drinking precaution. As the baby’s Godmother, first aunt, and all-around favorite person ever, I fully support your wise decisions.”
The great-aunts and grandmas-to-be can contain it no longer — descending like a pack of she-wolves, hot on the scent of baby — so I back away… and into Sutton.
Growled heat finds my ear. “Gave away your date, ya know.” I nod as he gives a low laugh. “One less thing in our way. See ya tonight, Hot Shot.”
Chapter 7
Sutton
Answered my text — for the first time in months — when I needed her the most. Sent in the cavalry to save me. Played some ball, while she played with me, making sure to pop her ass out in my direction every time she got in her stance. Wiggled it all over my shoulders, barely covered in the black bikini. This whole day’s been a non-stop reel of reminders I didn’t need…
I’m crazy about Presley Alexandra Beckett. Have been for a while. Never stopped. Doubt I could stop, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. Never did, but had to try. So crazy over her in fact, I haven’t taken my eyes off the front door of the club since I started my shift, just waiting for that first glimpse of her.
They finally arrive, and in spite of my deep-thoughts session, I know the second they do. Not because I see her, but believe it or not, because I hear her — over the music, above the raucous noise of a club — causing a commotion the likes of which only Presley can.
I weave through the crowd, toward the entrance, and… grin. What a pistol my Hot Shot is, dressed in a little skin-tight, black number, no bra or panties underneath. A man knows these things. And she knows that I know, upon sight, that she’s bare beneath the purposeful packaging. Once I can force my eyes up to her face, I find her cheeks red, that sexy mouth pursed and both hands propped on the curvy hips where mine belong.
“What seems to be the problem here, Miss?” I laugh.
“There isn’t one.” Malakai, the bouncer on door duty, holds up his hands in surrender, eyes wide with worry. “Been begging to tell her to go right on in, but when she asked where you were and I told her working Section A, she flipped shit.”
“Shhh, I can’t hear,” Presley scolds us, phone to her ear. “Daddy?” she barks into her cell. “What time is it?”
“What the… her dad?” Malakai panics. “I didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”
“Relax,” JT tells him. “It’s not about you. Not exactly sure what it is about, yet, but it’s definitely not you. I’ll vouch for ya if there’s any confusion.”
“Well pull back your phone and look at it! And you’re of acceptable age to wear a big-faced watch if that’ll solve the problem.” Presley’s still throwing a cute lil’ fit, foot tapping out a fast beat. “How many times have you chewed my butt for losing track of time? See how easy it is to do now? And you always thought I was lying.”
I take Brynn by the elbow gently and talk low, so as to not “interrupt” Pres. “Wait right inside here with me, little one. Getcha off the sidewalk while your cousin… finishes her call. Bellamy, you too.”
“Bellamy’s fine,” JT growls, pulling her taut to his side. “But good lookin’ out on Brynny.”
“That’s right, it is ten o’clock. And what time did I say we’d be here? Ten o’clock. So why did Malakai just inform me that Sutton’s still working the floor? You promised!” She listens, nodding, her face gradually breaking into a smile. “Okay, thank you, love you.” Pause. “No, no tone, Daddy. No, no yelling either, it’s just really loud here.” Another pause, and I get a glare that screams, ‘you owe me.’ A debt I’ll be happy to pay. “Yes, sir. Thank you again. I’m putting him on now.” She hands her phone to Malakai, who reaches out to take it in slow motion, staring at the device like he’s about to meet his doom.
“Good… uh… good evening, sir,” he says.
“What did you do? Don’t get him in trouble,” I grumble at Presley.
“I would never, Mal’s my main man. Daddy is the one in trouble. Well, he was, until I was. Why didn’t any of you warn me that I was getting too mouthy?”
“How are we supposed to tell?” Bellamy spouts it, then gasps, as if she didn’t mean to say it out loud. “What I meant-”
“Is exactly what you said,” Presley laughs. “My bad, guess I deserved the ass-chewing at the end.”
Malakai’s still nodding, listening, and seeming much more at ease. “Yes sir, no problem. You have a good night too.” He hangs up, and after a huge huff of relief, hands P her phone. “Girl, you could’ve just told me what was up. I’d have taken care of it for you, without the damn phone call!”
“I’m sorry, Mal.” She pushes up on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. “I didn’t look past my chance to throw in his face all the times he jumped my butt for the same thing. But I’ll make sure and mention how nice you were, promise. Still love me?” She bats those long eyelashes at the helpless schmuck.
“Hell yes, you sexy brat.” He wraps her up in a bear hug. “And you,” he lets go of Pres and slaps my shoulder, “are off-duty for the rest of the night. I’ll get Roman to take your section. Go on, have some fun for me too.”
“You sure? I don’t wanna leave y’all short-handed.”
“Yes, he’s sure. If they get slammed, I’ll tend bar.” Presley smiles at me, really smiles, absent of anything besides a sincere desire for my happiness… at least for tonight.
“The hell you say,” Malakai laughs. “No more talks with your dad tonight. Now get gone, you’re holding up my line.”
“Thanks again, Mal. Okay, let’s do this.” I move aside, giving them room to corral in, and the second Camden’s beside Brynn, I step down from my watch on her to close in on Presley. “You’ve just been doing me solids all day, haven’t ya? How will I ever repay you?”
“By telling me you have an extra shirt in your locker. The black t-shirt part looks good, but the neon ‘staff’ across your chest isn’t quite doing it for me. The jeans, however,” her eyes peruse down, and slowly back up as she licks her lips, “can definitely stay.”
I dip my head, mouth to her ear. “Like the jeans, huh? I’ll see your compliment and raise you one changing of my shirt. Where you gonna be?”
“Don’t know. Guess you’ll have to come find me.”
“Bet.” I swat her ass and head toward the break room and my locker, but not too fast... ‘cause I know she’s got her eyes on my jeans, watching me walk away.
*****
God must’ve felt bad about the way my day had begun and decided to give my night an upgrade — because I’ve had over an hour pretty much to myself with just Presley — Brynn and Camden on the dancefloor, Bellamy and JT a table over from us… because it has a better view of Brynn and Camden.
Speaking of which… “That’s it, we’re dancing, baby!” JT bellows loud enough to steal my attention for a second.
“But you don’t dance,” Bellamy giggles. (Yes, her hand got stamped, right before she started sneaking sips of J and Presley’s drinks, so she’s feeling “happy.”)
“I do now. Motherfucker hasn’t given my sister a breather in six songs. Six! That’s five-and-a-half too many. Move your fine ass, woman.”
“Poor Brynny,” Presley sighs. “She’s gonna die an old, virgin cat-lady. And poor, poor, Ryder, he’s as good as friend-zoned. Cameron has her smitten,” she calls him by the wrong name, which I damn sure don’t correct, holding onto her with one hand while I drag her stool right next to mine with the other. “You got me?” she squeals, a lil’ off-balance, having consumed half her body weight in daiquiris.
“You know I do. This big ass body,” I use her phrase that I like, a lot, “would never let anything happen to you.”
“You wouldn’t, would you?” She lays her head on my shoulder, and it takes titantic restraint not to bury my face in her hair
. “Sutton Patrick Ellis,” she hums, no trouble remembering my name — the whole damn thing — “why did we break up again?”
“What?” I’m not sure if I yell, snarl, laugh, or all three, too stupefied to tell. “Okay, you’re cut off, beyond drunk enough if you think that’s even fucking close to what happened.”
She pays no mind to my reply, testing my willpower, sanity, and soul to their limits with what she does next. Peering up at me with eyes of the lost, though begging to be found or not, I can’t quite tell, she finds my hand under the table and guides it to the inside of her thigh, sliding it up her silky skin. My pinky wanders, brushing against a swollen lip of her bare, wet pussy and a depraved growl vibrates my whole chest.
“Presley, fuck, Sugar. Don’t do this to me now, not while you’re drunk. You know you’re my biggest weakness, powerful enough to bring me to my knees. Don’t abuse that power.” I’ve dipped my head, unable to resist teasing my tongue along the spot just below her ear that I know drives her wild, as I beg.
“Me? What about you? No man ever stays on my mind. I don’t chase, Sutton, I get chased. But you, you turned me away. I’ve never felt so foolish in my entire life. It’s been months, and I still lay in bed, every night, and-”
“Hey, Honey!”
No, no fucking way. I’m hallucinating. Please let me be hallucinating.
“Hello? Sutton, honey?” No such luck, it’s real, Hailey’s second pitchy, ill-timed interruption is unmistakable, and has Presley jolting back from me, her dreamy lids now wide open, eyes bulging, my hand forcefully removed — and the rest of her sentence left for me to agonizingly ponder.
Somebody just fucking kill me already. End my suffering. It’s called mercy for God’s sake.
“Hailey… um… hey,” I manage somewhat tolerantly, “what’re you doing here?”
“What do you mean?” She snickers, wrapping both arms around my neck before I’ve gathered my bearings enough to dodge the attack. Maybe she is the Angel of Death, sent to strangle me. At this point, I’m good with that. “This is where my boyfriend works, why wouldn’t I be here? Oh, this is my best friend, Manda. Manda, this is my boyfriend, Sutton.”
