by Mia Ashlinn
“Randy, leave the poor bastard alone,” Jared chided, joining them. He stepped between Randy and Ethan before he explained to everyone within hearing distance, “Drew didn’t get any this morning.”
Randy snorted, taking his scotch from Sam’s hand. “Neither did you, but you aren’t being a pain in everyone’s ass.”
“He isn’t being a pain in my ass,” Ethan chimed in with a grin. “I’m enjoying his discomfort. A man willing to take on that handful deserves everything he gets.”
“By handful, I hope you are not referring to our woman.” Randy’s jovial mood disappeared, his face darkening dangerously, and ice dripped from his tone, directly contrasting the blazing furnace in his blue eyes. “I will kill your ugly ass. Don’t look at her. Don’t talk about her. You stay the fuck away from her.”
Ethan laughed, his clean-cut, too-pretty face lighting up. He looked more like the lead singer in a boy band and less like a full-grown cowboy-turned-businessman. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t take that crazy woman off your hands for all of the porn stars in the world.” He paused, sipping the beer from his frosty mug. “She may be as gorgeous as a 1920s pinup model, but she’s even more than I can handle.”
“You needn’t worry about that, pretty boy. You won’t be handling a hair on her head unless you want to lose your arm,” Randy sneered contemptuously, towering over the object of his animosity.
“Back off, Randy,” Jared decreed, unruffled. “Ethan’s just trying to get our goat.”
And he succeeded beautifully. Drew’s hand itched to pummel Ethan’s supermodel face. When he was done with him, Ethan would require a team of surgeons to repair not only his face, but also his body.
Jared seized Drew’s clenched fist in a firm grip and said sternly, “Don’t do it. He’s not worth it.”
Drew didn’t agree. Evidently, Randy didn’t, either. He curled his lip and jeered. “I don’t give a fuck. He’s about to get something, all right, and it isn’t our goddamn goat.”
Brett smacked Ethan on the back of his head. “Cut it out. You’re about to swim in scalding water. I’m not in the mood to save your pretentious ass.”
Ethan rolled his dark eyes, seemingly oblivious to the fact he treaded a fine line with three enraged men. “I’m not scared of these doofuses.”
“You don’t need to worry about just these three,” Brett told him, the warning explicit in his gravelly tone. “Keep pushing and every man in town is going to bury you alive and dance on your grave.”
Sam refilled Drew’s whiskey and remarked mockingly, “Don’t worry about him. He loves to push everyone’s buttons.”
“I do not,” Ethan disagreed with a sullen frown.
Drew eyeballed Ethan, dissecting and inspecting. This man needed a reality check before harm came to his front door, barged in, and kicked his ass from here to the end of the world and back again. Drew wasn’t so sure that he, and his brothers, wouldn’t be the ones doing the ass-kicking. “He’s going to push the wrong person’s buttons.”
“Oh, he already has,” Sam announced animatedly. “Brooklyn Sokolov’s best friend, Josie Martin, can’t stand the sight of him. Mr. I’m-God’s-Gift hit on her with the cheesiest pickup line ever.”
Sam broke off with a snicker. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” He barely managed to utter the entire pickup line before laughing his ass off. “Needless to say, she wasn’t exactly appreciative of his attention and didn’t take him up on his offer. And, now, she breathes fire in his direction every time he gets within ten feet of her. Doesn’t she, angel boy?”
Ethan grimaced, flushing slightly. “I plan to stay the hell away from that crazy woman. She’s worse than Shannon.”
Randy grumbled unintelligibly, but his thunderous face made discernible words unnecessary.
Brett plucked a peanut out of the bowl sitting in front of him, tossed it high in the air, and caught it with his mouth. “You haven’t been so far. You follow that girl shamelessly. You’re worse than a lost puppy looking for a new home.”
Ethan picked up a peanut and launched it at Brett’s head, hitting him on the side of the face. “Shut up, Brett. You’re as bad as I am.”
Brett scowled gravely, replying with a condescending, “Not hardly.”
Sam cut in. “They both are.” He grabbed a damp bar cloth and wiped away the mess and stickiness, leaving a wide, wet streak behind. “It’s kind of funny.”
“What about you? Don’t you like her,” Randy quizzed Sam, arching his eyebrow inquisitively.
Sam stared off into space, half-heartedly rubbing the counter with smooth, even strokes. He explained, “She’s not my type.”
“But Brooklyn is,” Ethan responded dryly, swallowing the last of his beer.
Randy shook his head in confusion. “How is that going to work? I thought you three shared.”
“Sometimes,” Sam clarified, “but only when we need it. I wouldn’t share on a permanent basis with those two.”
Ethan ribbed, “Yeah, Sam. We wouldn’t share with you, either.”
“You know you two want my banging body.” Sam’s glib rejoinder was accompanied by eyebrow wiggling and a lascivious smirk.
Ethan flipped Sam off. “Bullshit. You couldn’t keep me half as satisfied as Brett.”
“Yeah?” Sam winked, maintaining his crude harassment. “That’s because I haven’t been fucking you anytime we don’t have girlfriends.”
Randy stopped middrink, spilling a drop or two of his scotch down the front of his shirt. “Whoa! You two are…” He trailed off, visibly baffled and unsure of how to continue without overstepping any tenuous, friendly boundaries. Randy swiped a napkin from its holder, wiping at the dribbled liquid.
Brett filled in the blank easily and without hesitation, “Friends with benefits.”
Randy unabashedly persisted with his intrusive prying, “How did no one know that?”
“Because people only see what they want to see,” Ethan declared, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “We love women, so they assumed we’re straight men who share. When, in fact, Brett and I are bisexual, and we occasionally play around with each other.”
Brett nodded earnestly, his eyes sad. “People don’t know shit about us. Ethan and I have been fuck buddies for years, and we share purely for the fun of it—with or without Sam. One day we’ll each find our own woman, and that will be that. No more sharing, and no more friendly fucking.”
“Yeah, that’ll be the end of it,” Sam agreed. Dropping his cloth on the bar with a plop, he shuffled down to the sink and washed his hands.
Tense silence ensued, engulfing the group. No one seemed to know what to say or how to act.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ethan finally said as he stood clumsily, his movements stilted and jerky. “I think I’m going to head out.”
Brett got to his feet, his powerfully built body overshadowing all of the men around him, and murmured, “Me, too.”
The men strolled away without another word.
Randy summed up what all of them thought. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Jared scratched his scruffy chin. “That was interesting. Wonder what that was all about?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Drew stood up and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, tossing down enough to cover the drink and a tip. “I’m gone.”
He turned to leave, but he was blocked by Jared and Randy. They trapped him in between their two bodies, blocking his exit. He wanted to pump his fist in the air. Jonesing for a fight, his brothers provided the perfect excuse for a bar brawl.
Come on, boys, just a little more aggression, his inner warrior whispered. I’m ready to take your asses down, but let’s make it worthwhile.
Randy chuckled, “You are aware that we feel the fight inside of you, right? Well, brother, open up and feel ours.”
Opening his senses fully, awareness hit Drew squarely between the eyes. They craved what he craved, wanted what he wanted, needed what he needed—to pound each other into
the ground. Their reasons varied, but the compulsion was clear. Fight.
Jared probably believed that knocking some sense into him would fix everything, that he would fall in line, his fears disappearing and his attitude changing. Poof. Life would be as perfect as living in a rerun of Leave It to Beaver, only with three Mr. Cleavers.
Revenge for Shannon would more than likely be Randy’s motivation. He’d want Drew’s blood. Drew snorted inaudibly. The day Shannon Roberts needed help with retribution would be the day the world stopped turning.
Drew’s reason was more simplistic. He wanted a pound of flesh to slake his no-holds-barred fury. His fist and their faces seemed to be an ideal option. It was the perfect time, the perfect place.
“Push me, Drew, and I will push back,” Jared informed him matter-of-factly as he backed Drew into the bar, going toe-to-toe with him. “Fight me, and I’ll fight back. I guarantee that I will be the victor. I have something to fight for that you don’t. Shan—”
Three separate text tones went off at the exact same time, and three distinct curses followed them. They each dragged their cell phones out of their respective holsters, staring dumbly at the display with duplicate, dumfounded expressions.
Recovering swiftly, Randy beamed. “Looks like we’re going to a wedding.”
Chapter 16
Shannon flipped through a fashion magazine, covertly watching the three other women in Deke’s private plane.
Jaycee sat across from her, impatiently bouncing her crossed leg. She tapped her fingers against the arm rest, alternating impatient looks between Shannon and Katie-Anne.
Oh, yeah. Her friend suspected something.
Sitting next to Jaycee, Katie-Anne crossed and recrossed her long legs every two minutes. She was as antsy as Jaycee. Whether it was from the excitement of a surprise, destination wedding for her best friend or the prospect of spending a weekend with her two men, Shannon didn’t know.
The last woman, Sarah Matthews, fidgeted in the seat across the aisle. Discomfort and stress rolled off her in waves. Shannon could practically hear Sarah’s hammering heart and virtually see her racing thoughts. At this rate, steam would come out of her ears before they arrived in East Tennessee.
Shannon didn’t know Sarah well. Seeing someone around town didn’t make them a friend, and Shannon had purposefully avoided spending time with the seemingly nice woman outside of the group.
Lately Sarah had been spending more and more time with Katie-Anne and the others, but Shannon had still kept her at a distance. She didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t form emotional attachment for both her safety and theirs.
Apparently, keeping her distance wasn’t an option now, so Shannon would make the best of it, especially if it prolonged the inevitable—Jaycee pumping them for details.
Shannon tossed her magazine down. “So, Sarah, why are you here?”
Startled, Sarah jumped with a squeak. “Gray thought you three could use a chaperone. A–a–and he knew better than to send any of your men. He trusts no one else with you, so he sent me.” Sarah sighed wistfully. “It was terribly sweet.”
Gray trusted Sarah? What? How? Huh? Shannon hadn’t even been aware that she had a close relationship with any of the men in their group, outside of her foster brother, Landon. She couldn’t hold her question back. “He trusts you?”
Sarah shrugged negligently. “Of course. They all do.”
“Why?” Jaycee probed, her voice far less direct and cutting than Shannon’s. She sounded more companionable and warmhearted.
Sarah relaxed perceptibly, flourishing in Jaycee’s friendliness. “I’m Landon’s baby sister who could do no wrong.” She crossed her arms. “They think I’m an insipid innocent who they can control and dictate.” She snorted bitterly. “Ha! Stupid donkeys.”
Shannon, Jaycee, and Katie-Anne howled, their laughter bouncing off the walls.
Sarah flinched, bolting from her seat and crossing the aisle. “It is not funny!”
Katie-Anne panted, “Not. Laughing. At. You,” between giggles.
“Donkeys!” Jaycee chortled.
Shannon covered her mouth with her hand in a desperate attempt to hold back her giggles. In all her years, she had never heard to their seven men referred to as “donkeys.” What a damn waste. If the title fits, wear it. Giving up, Shannon removed her hand, letting her giggles flow freely in the cabin.
Catching on to their thoughts, Sarah fell into the chair next to Shannon, joining in the laughter. She covered her red face with both hands, her shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe I said that!”
“Loved it,” Katie-Anne told Sarah approvingly when her amusement died down.
“Perfect,” Jaycee concurred, grinning sinisterly. “Who would have thought of that? Our men are donkeys.”
Shannon elbowed Sarah, her snickers still streaming from her mouth. “Good one, Sarah.”
“Oh, my God!” Sarah peeked through her fingers, revealing her blue-gray eyes. “Please, don’t tell them I said that!”
Shannon, Jaycee, and Katie-Anne’s hysterics renewed. All three of them practically rolled in the aisles.
Sarah lowered her hands to her lap, gawking at them fearfully, her eyes wide and perplexed.
Minutes ticked by before the three women regained total control of themselves. At last, their laughs lulled. Jaycee quieted first then Katie-Anne and, finally, Shannon.
Jaycee reached over and patted Sarah’s knee. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us. We girls have to stick together or die together, depending on what day it is.”
“Ooh, I have an idea,” Katie-Anne exclaimed. “Sarah should get in on our Name-The-Men Game. I bet she’d make a superb addition.”
Shannon coughed, choking down a couple of additional chuckles. “Yeah. Totally.”
Sarah smiled shyly, “What kind of game are—”
“Excuse me, ladies.” Livy, their flight attendant, interrupted as she approached them and said, “Make sure to buckle up. We have begun our descent into Sevierville, Tennessee.” With a dazzling smile, she discreetly moved away.
“Those bastards,” Jaycee sneered spitefully, her face pinched and her lips white. “They just couldn’t let me have a good time. Now could they?”
Muttering under her breath, Jaycee buckled up. “Fuck them. I sure won’t be for a long time. Assholes. They’re going to pay. And pay well. Of all the dumbass things to do to their future wife. I am going to kick them in the balls. No! That’s too nice. I’m going to cut off their balls and throw them in the trash. No! I’m going to cook them and feed them to the donkeys for lunch. Yeah, that’s it. Stupid motherfuckers. I despise them. They suck—”
Katie-Anne fell into Jaycee’s trap, interrupting her with a frown, “Whoa, J. Don’t say shit you’re going to regret.”
Shannon kicked Katie-Anne. “Shut up.”
Jaycee’s disdain vanished, replaced with buoyancy. “I knew it! They are up to something.”
“Fuck,” Katie-Anne swore. “Gray’s going to murder me.”
People really should listen to me. No matter how often I tell them, no one believes me.
“I told you so, Katie-Anne.”
Katie-Anne rubbed her temples. “Kiss my ass, Shan.”
Shannon blew her a kiss. “You wish, my friend.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You told her. She’s pissed. What the fuck ever,” Jaycee said. “Details, ladies. I need them. Give them to me.”
“Oh!” Sarah yelped, reaching for her purse and pulling out three envelopes. “I almost forgot.” She handed each of them the envelope with their names scrawled on it. “Svetlana sent you notes.”
“Sarah, I will not be distracted,” Jaycee declared, sounding disturbingly high and mighty. Katie-Anne 2.0?
Shannon rolled her eyes. “Right and pigs fly, too.”
“Fine. I am easily distracted.” Jaycee tore open the envelope, yanked out the note inside, and read it silently. At the same time, Shannon slid her finger under
her envelope’s flap, ripped it open, and removed the note.
Things not as seem.
You protect love.
Love protect you.
You not have to choose.
You save them.
They save you.
Love prevail.
You get you fairy tale.
-Svetlana
As soon as Shannon had finished, she heard Katie-Anne gasp. She didn’t glance up from the paper, her face drastically paling with each line she read. Her lips mouthed each word, dancing from one line to the next.
“Katie-Anne, are you okay?” Shannon asked worriedly.
“Oh, yeah.” Katie-Anne folded her note briskly, attempting to stuff it back into its envelope with her trembling hands. “I’m fine.”
Jaycee scowled at Katie-Anne and scathingly whispered, “Bullshit.” She grabbed the paper from Katie-Anne’s shaking hands and read it aloud,
“This special trip change life.
You play game.
Game play you.
Follow heart.
Not mind.
It lead you home.
Fly free, little bird.
Forget past.
Live in present.
Embrace future.
Never let go.
You not alone.
They your home.
You their home.
Big home.
Big love.
-Svetlana”
Jaycee whistled, “Day-um, sister! I thought mine was riveting.”
“What exactly did yours say?” Katie-Anne accentuated “yours” sardonically, letting Jaycee know that she would read her note to them, or Katie-Anne would do it for her.
Jaycee handed her note to Katie-Anne, smiling sweetly, “Unlike you, I have nothing to hide. Read away.”
“I will.” Katie-Anne read over the note once in silence, her eyebrows lifting several times. “Okay. Svetlana said—”
“Destiny said,” Jaycee corrected Katie-Anne curtly. Even now, Jaycee refused to call Svetlana by her real name, much to the amusement of everyone, especially “Destiny.”
