Rolling his eyes Damon style, he leaned against the work bench across from me.
“So, what you and Kasper are just gonna start dating her, the both of you? What if she picks him, you still gonna be okay with him dating her?”
Not here five minutes and he had already started. Frustrated, I pushed off the car. This was one reason why I was glad he was still asleep when I had left. Leave it to Damon to ruin my good mood, like he didn’t want any of us with Kelly. I didn’t even know why he cared. He said he wasn’t interested. I lifted the hood of the small car I was working on today. If I stayed silent, he would just sit there till I answered.
“Yeah, Damon, I will be fine with it if Kelly’s happy.”
The sound of his footsteps let me know that he approached. Not saying a word, he grabbed one of the parts for the car and slid underneath. My small respite was temporary.
“Happy? Dean you’ve known the girl for like four days, how could any of this be up for discussion in the first place? She’s just a girl, a dime a dozen. She can’t be that special. If you’ve been that hard up for a fuck, then go find another girl somewhere.”
Shoving off the car, I glared down at the ass under the car. “Why, does it matter what the hell I do or say about Kelly anyways, Damon? It’s not like you care, right? You said a dime a dozen, right? Whether I have sex with her or some other chick, or use Kelly, it doesn’t matter right? Why do you care? You never have before.”
Hauling himself from under the car we had just started working on, he refused to answer. Which was typical Damon. If I turned the tables on him and started talking about his feelings and what he was up too, he shut down. He hadn’t always been like that. I meant, sure, he was the quiet one, but he’d never been so closed off and could even be funny sometimes. Walking to the other side of the garage he got a creeper and started working on the car furthest away from me. Fine, he wanted to stop talking? Watch me keep the conversation going. Fair was fair.
“So I guess we’re done talking, you had your say, but you won’t answer my questions?” I yelled to make damn sure he could hear me. “Good job, Damon! Let’s just avoid the fact that you like Kelly, but just don’t want to admit it. That you actually care what happens to her or care how she feels.”
Pushing back his creeper and sitting up, he glared at me like he was spoiling for a fight. Scowling at me as if I were the stupidest person in the world—a role he definitely owned—he set down the tool in his hand. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know it’s true, you like her.”
Damon pushed off the floor then leaned against the car and crossed his arms.
“You’re out of your mind. Just because you and Kasper think she’s a hot piece of ass doesn’t mean everything with a dick between his legs wants her. Just because I was nice to her doesn’t mean I wanna bang her.”
I grabbed the barstool closest to me and sat. Leaning back, I studied him. Damon was my brother and I loved him, but sometimes I just didn’t understand him. Maybe a test was warranted. A plan started to form in my head. I just hoped I was right and this really didn’t backfire on me.
“You’re right.”
Seeming more confused than ever, Damon dropped his arms and stood a little straighter. “What do you mean I was right, which part?”
Calmly, I tried to act as nonchalant as possible. Damon was the one with the poker face, not me. If I was gonna pull this off, I couldn’t act like I was faking at all. It had to look real. God, the things I did and said for my dense older brother.
“All of it, you’re right, I thought she’d be a good fuck. But Kelly needs a little more fitness than the average, one-night stand. Ya, know. I don’t mind the effort, she’s hot. I’m sure she’ll be worth it in the end.”
He tilted his head as he walked a little closer to me. Shit. “Is that right?”
It had slowly become harder to keep my nonchalant air, the closer he got. “Yeah, I mean, it seems Kasper kind of got the same idea, right?’ Shrugging my shoulders, I went on. “Why don’t we all just take a night with her and get her out of our system. That’s how it works, right? I mean, you and Kasper know more than me on that.”
Before I could continue, my whole spiel, Damon was up in my face, yelling.
“She’s not some whore!” Spit flew with the words from Damon’s mouth. Shock rippled across his face.
Trying to recover quickly from this new revelation, I went for a smug smile. “I thought you didn’t care what happened to her, that she wasn’t special. A dime a dozen”
Damon turned a few startling shades of red, while walking back and forth trying to calm the beast inside. Right now, Damon was not a Pooh Bear. No, he was just a bear. If only Kelly could see him. Whirling around, he stalked toward me.
“So, I guess I was… argh!”
He kicked the bar stool out from under me so fast, I hit the floor and landed on my ass. That was gonna bruise tomorrow. Damon loomed over me, glaring.
Glaring right back, I didn’t back down. “What? You know I was right.”
Ignoring me, he walked out the door. Once there, he turned and glared. “Jackass.”
Then he was gone, and the door slammed shut.
Okay well maybe that could have gone better, but I think I handled it well. Now to sit back and see what happened.
Eleven
Kelly
1. I knew hardly nothing about me.
2. I liked the color bubblegum pink.
3. I liked weird coffee mugs, weirder the better.
The week had flown by so fast. I went to the school on Monday, finished my paperwork, introduced myself to some of the staff, and located my classroom. It was bigger than what I was used to and I was excited to be able to use all the space. The rest of the week I tried to clean the house, and get some of my stuff up. Some items needed sorting, and others just needed to stay in the past. Like a certain flamingo lampshade. Don’t ask me why I bought that.
Unpacking each piece made me really look at it. Weird, I didn’t like most of it. So much was Trevor’s taste, and I didn’t know what my taste was. So, I decided to take my time and figure out what I liked or didn’t. Like said Flamingo lampshade. Not what anybody else wanted. Just me.
When I lived with my ex-husband, we’d always done whatever was trendy at the time. And what I figured out was, that I didn’t like trendy. I liked apparently tacky things. Like doughnut coffee mugs. Or more specifically, the mug I found at the thrift store earlier in the week.
Along with the coffee mug holder also at the thrift store to hold it. And the many more I planned to get. I also found a hutch I planned to paint pink. Something about the color of pink called to me when I was trying to decide what color to pick. So now I had a very large pink hutch in my kitchen. Not just any pink either. Bubble gum pink. It would hold my coffee pot, and my coffee mug holder, and all my very tacky coffee mugs. It had quickly become my favorite piece in the whole house, for now.
Throughout the week I’d received texts from Kasper, Dean and Damon. Though Damon’s text were always around the same time and predictable.
His text seemed to read the same every day, you good?
To which I always replied okay and he always replied back good.
It was weird, but oddly comforting.
Kasper’s text was always to check up on me and to see how I was doing. They were very close to Damon’s text, though far friendlier, and all Kasper. Even if I didn’t have their nicknames in the contact area, I would have been able to tell them apart. Dean’s were always flirty and he sent jokes throughout the day. He hadn’t texted much today, probably because he was coming over for movie night in a few hours. It was also why I was cleaning.
Not for him specifically, to be clear.
It was for the millions of girls who were taught if someone came over you cleaned. You learned it right after not putting your elbows on the table and before you learned the importance of yes ma’am and no ma’am. Southern girls grew up watchi
ng their mothers running around in frantic messes, trying to clean up before company arrived. It was biologically bred into us, I thought. So, if he happened to notice all my cleanliness, well than that was extra kudos for me, right?
Though if he didn’t, that was fine too, right? I didn’t care if he thought I was a messy person or clean. Would it really matter to him how diligently I scrubbed the counter? I tried to tell myself that a relationship with any of these guys wasn’t what I needed. I was supposed to be just being me, learning me, enjoying the single life. Having fun. But being around them was fun. Really fun.
These guys made me second guess every plan I had before meeting them. I was gonna focus on me, my job and that was it. I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be demanding. I wanted to do what I wanted when I wanted. Men didn’t allow that, right?
Every relationship I’d ever been in was so much work and took so much out of me. I always focused on their feelings, wants, and needs. I wanted to be the selfish, spoiled one for once. Though I’d be stupid not to admit that these men had already spoiled me some. Brought me coffee? Check. Brought me doughnuts? Check. Given me a foot massage? Big check for Dean. They took care of my car, offloaded my furniture, and even helped me set up and then grabbed food for me.
Wasn’t that usually how it started though? They showered you with gifts and attention. Though to be honest, none of the guys I dated did. But dammit, they always did in the movies, so it must be true. Movies didn’t lie.
After finishing with the counter, I tossed the paper towels in the garbage. Grabbing the broom, I swept up the crumbs from the pie I made earlier. The sweet smell permeated the house. Everything was done except for the pie’s actual baking—and I had time to spare. Putting my hip on the counter I thought about all the guys, while I waited for the timer to ding. What if the guys were doing the same?
While not sweet, Trevor was more attentive, in the beginning at least. Maybe a little condescending, but in the beginning he’d made effort until I was hooked. I couldn’t do that again. Mind made up, I made plans. I was going to have to talk to Dean and see exactly where these three musketeers were headed. Though if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel once I got the answer.
Ding!!
Shit!!! Double shit on a shitake mushroom!
Burning my finger on the dang oven because of the dang doorbell. I slid the pie out of the oven and put it in top of the stove. Putting my finger in my mouth, I went to the sink to turn on the faucet, and then let my poor burnt fingers feel some relief.
Yelling over the water so Dean could hear me, I shouted, “C’mon in, I’m in the kitchen.”
Concern crossed his face as he set the Chinese food down on the counter and walked toward me. “What happened?”
Slightly embarrassed, I told him grudgingly “I burned my flipping finger on that there oven, trying to make you a pie.”
He leaned in closer. “What, I can’t hear you, are you mumbling?”
Enunciating each word, I gritted out “I said, I burned my fingers on the dang oven trying to make you a dang pie. Did ya hear that?”
Not seeming to feel threatened at all by my tone, he simply smiled. “Did you know your accent gets thicker when you get mad? It’s kind of adorable.”
Turning off the water, I turned around and faced him. “Yes, I did know, though most women don’t wanna be called adorable.”
He put one finger in the air like he was about to count off something. “I beg to differ, most women I…” He trailed off with a fake cough when he saw me eyeing him. “What kind of pie did you make?” Good boy. Since the subject at hand was a dangerous one, he chose a much safer topic.
Looking around for my aloe, I answered. “Hey, see that plant over there? Can you bring it to me? And it’s apple.” Crossing the room to the desk in the living room, he fetched me my aloe vera plant. He watched closely as I ripped a small piece off and squeezed a small amount on my fingers rubbing it in.
“That’s it?”
I threw the small piece I used away and blew on the gel, hoping to dry it faster. “Is what it? The burns?” At his nod, I continued. “Yeah, I mean the aloe vera plant is good for that and sunburns. Everybody I know in the south had one sitting somewhere in their house.”
Reaching out to touch the leaves he said, “Uh, maybe I need to get one, too. I’m always getting burned at the garage and at home.” He walked around the room while I returned the aloe plant to its spot. He paused at my pink coffee station in the corner of the kitchen and smiled. “I should have guessed you would do this, this definitely said Kelly.”
“Do what?” I set my hand lovingly over my new items I had just bought.
He waved his arm in front of my coffee station, “You have a hot pink coffee area.”
“Bubble gum.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them.
He gave me a puzzled look. “What?”
“I have a bubble gum pink hutch that I spray painted all by myself. I found I don’t like hot pink, but bubble gum is awesome.” It was kind of sad how excited I was about this.
He nodded his head slowly. “Okay, a…” He locked gazes with me. “Bubble gum pink hutch, with all doughnut coffee mugs. Yeah. This is totally you.”
I beamed, glad he included the mugs. “Yeah, I thought so, too. It took me a while trying to figure out what I liked but I did. I adored my mug. It was love at first sight.”
“Can I ask why it took so long to figure out what you like?”
I took a deep breath. It would probably sound stupid when I said it out loud. Believe me it did when I said it to myself.
“So, when I was married to Trevor, my ex, everything in our house had a place. Everything was coordinated, everything was whatever trend was going on in the moment. If the style was black and white French style, our house made you feel like you were in mother flippin Paris. Trevor wanted us to have a certain image, and so we did. In that time though I never thought about what I’d really want or like.” With a nod to the coffee station, I traced a finger over the painted pink wood grain. “Hence, the bubble gum pink and doughnut coffee mugs.”
Shifting to stand behind me, he settled his hands on my arms and his chin against my hair. What surprised me was when he gently started rubbing up and down my arms. It soothed me, when I didn’t even know I needed soothing. It was a heady mixture, to have someone think of your wants and needs. I’d never had that before. I didn’t know how to handle it.
Unaware of what his touch did to me, or maybe he did and just chose to ignore it he said, “I think that’s great, and this is great.”
Wanting to see his face, I turned around. Dean being serious unsettled me. “You do?”
He dropped his hands from my arms, retreating to the kitchen and hopping onto the counter. “Hell, yeah, you wanna paint these cabinets bubble gum pink? What about a pink dining room table? Or chairs? Yeah, you gotta get some pink chairs.”
Laughing and relieved that at least he got me. I walked over and leaned against him. “I think one bubble gum pink thing is enough, for now. Maybe later, a table?”
He nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, we can do a table.” Hopping down from the counter, he grabbed my arms and pulled me to him. “Well, if you ever decide to go bubble gum crazy again, then let me know, I’ve got more paint brushes.”
I loved how willing he was to help. “I’ll think about using your paintbrushes, but I think the painting and stuff are things I need to do myself. Ya know, for me.”
Kissing my forehead, and lingering a little longer than necessary, he whispered, “I get it, you do you. But if you need me, well, all you gotta do is ask.”
That was too deep and too fast, so I pulled a Dean and changed the topic. “So you got Chinese?”
He took the cue from me, letting me change the subject. “Yeah, I got Chinese if you’ve got pie?”
I pointed to the still cooling pie. “I think we can come to a negotiation.”
We ended up watchin
g a few more episodes of Supernatural, while eating Chinese food and apple pie. Weird combination, but it worked for us. They were actually pretty good together. And having Dean on TV and Dean by my side made it that much better. Dean seemed engrossed in finally figuring out who Bobby was and where Damon heard idjits.
My Dean seemed so relaxed, and at ease. I loved that about him and how easy going he was. At the same time, I knew I still had to talk to him about what I was thinking. Just for my peace of mind and if nothing else to clear the air. Of course, the air being cleared could just be one sided judging by the earlier kiss.
Could it have been a brotherly kiss? Lord, please don’t let it be a brotherly kiss. I knew I could sit there for another twenty minutes and think this to death. Resolute in what to do I grabbed the remote. Turning the TV off, I reached for his hands to start the awkward conversation. Awkward for me that was, and it was going to be really awkward if this was all one sided. Breathe.
“Dean, what are we doing? I mean the Supernatural, the texting, we’re friends, right?” He opened his mouth to say something, but I kept going. “I mean, I thought we were friends but the kisses, and the doughnuts, and the hugs… I was confused.”
I opened my mouth again, but he covered my mouth with his hand and smiled.
“Well, that’s a lot to say in under a minute. I’ll try to answer in order, if I can remember everything. Let’s see, right now we are watching TV and eating supper, friends do that right?” He waited for my nod before he continued. “Good, okay what’s next? Oh, yes, the texting. Well I text Damon and Kasper, so if we’re friends, which I hope we are, then I should be texting you right? Go ahead and nod.”
Rolling my eyes, I went ahead and nodded again.
“And last, the kisses you say and the hugs? Is that right?” I nodded as he dropped his hand from my mouth and moved forward. I followed his gaze down my legs that I had criss-crossed on the couch. He moved slowly and untangled them. The width of one hand encircled each ankle as he placed one leg on each side of his hip, where I could straddle him. I closed my eyes as his hands moved up my legs to my waist. I swore, if he said brother after doing this to me, we were going to have a problem.
Road To Me Page 7
