Wasted: Falcon Brothers (Steel Country Book 3)

by Mj Fields

  I grab another one out of the clean clothes pile, then grab my guitar and hurry down the damn ladder with my fucking chin throbbing, dick throbbing, and heart pounding with all sorts of anticipation of what the hell that girl is doing on Falcon land and trying to figure out just what I am going to say when I find her.

  An hour later, I’m soaked to the bone, covered in mud, and I never did find the girl.

  I walk through the kitchen door of the main house of Falcon’s Landing, a family getaway place, with cabins and shit that my brother Gage built and runs when he’s not running our family’s construction company. Man is a badass and busy as fuck. Always has been.

  All his cabins are rented to his friends—our friends, I suppose—right now from the Shore. Good group, the Steel brothers. Close as family, and now they have families of their own. Never would have expected any one of them to settle down. Then again, never would have imagined Garrett coming back and doing it, either.

  Setting my guitar down by the door, I kick off my boots and start to take off my damn clothes.

  “Damn, Grayson, you fall down?” Xavier looks at me.

  “Nah.” I drop my pants. “Hung out in the woods for a little bit.”

  “You got the body, looks, talent. Gray, I want you to be part of Forever Four.” Xavier lifts his chin.

  Xavier owns a recording label and manages a few bands. All great, but not something I want. No fucking spotlight needs to be shining on me, or this fucking family.

  “I’m all set, but appreciate it.” I step out of my jeans and fold them up so I don’t get mud all over the place.

  “Got another country singer. You’d make one hell of a tour team,” X says as I walk out of the room. “Think about it, Gray. You could be a star.”

  I nod, look back, and tell him like it is. “Don’t want to be a star; just want to be, you know?” Then I walk out of the kitchen and head upstairs to shower.

  §

  Clean, dressed, and finally dry, I walk down the stairs to see Mags sitting in the large, open family room, folding a basket of clothes.

  She pats the couch next to her, and even though I’m starving, I sit.

  “You have a gift, my boy,” she says, taking my hand.

  I know what she’s talking about. She overheard Xavier. I want to wring his tattooed neck.

  “My family, this...” I wave my hand around. “Mags, that’s what I want.”

  “You’re not like the other two, Gray. They act without thinking. You think deeper. Always have. You feel before you act. I hear it in that voice of yours, Grayson, that beautiful deep, gravelly voice. Don’t hide what the good Lord gave you.”

  “Did you hear that, Mags?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “My belly rumbling. I’m listening to the good Lord tell me I should eat. Now you gonna come in and sit with me, keep that man from pushing me in a direction away from home, or sit in here, folding my boxers?”

  She laughs, and that laugh...that laugh is everything.

  She lets go of her vice grip on my hand and pats it. “Bacon?”

  I nod. “Dreaming about chocolate covered bacon, Mags. What do you think that means?”

  Mags had a way with explaining my nightmares to me that made them not so damn frightening when I was younger.

  “I think it means we better add pigs to the list of livestock Garrett wants over the hill on that little ranch he’s creating.” She smiles as I stand and help her up. “You, my boy, are wasting away.”

  “Aw, Mags, you can do better than that. What kind of pigs?” I ask as we walk slowly into the kitchen.

  “Flying chocolate pigs?” she quips.

  “How big?”

  “Eight hundred pounders.”

  I chuckle. “Eight-hundred-pound, flying chocolate pigs?”

  “Herds of them.” She smiles, her gray eyes sparkling.

  “Love you, Mags,” I say, kissing the top of her head before unlinking my arm from hers and pulling out a chair for her to sit. “What can I get for you, Mags?” I then ask as I head for the food all laid out on the kitchen island, buffet style.

  “Already ate while you were playing in the woods.” She winks.

  After grabbing a heaping plate of pancakes and a ton of bacon for myself, I sit next to Mags.

  “What keeps you in those woods, my boy?”

  “Trees, fresh air, and the lake,” I tell her before popping the first slice of thick and crispy bacon in my mouth.

  When I make a face as I chew, she starts laughing.

  After I swallow down the fake-in, I ask, “What the hell is this?”

  Still laughing, she answers, “Turkey bacon, I suppose.”

  “Mags, what are these women doing to my brothers? The food...?” I sniff the air, inhaling some girlie fucking candle scent. “The smells...?”

  “Loving them, my boy.” She pats my hand. “Loving them.”

  I look down at my plate. “Well, let’s hope it’s the kind of love you talk about and not fake like this.” I hold up a piece of bacon, scrunching up my nose, and she laughs again.

  Chapter Four

  Bells and Bliss

  Mandee

  “I would be honored!” I all but hug the phone when Phoenix and Juliana Facetime me, asking to not only help plan Juliana and Garrett’s wedding, but participate in the wedding itself.

  “Could you possibly be a bridesmaid, as well?” Phoenix asks, thumbing over to Juliana.

  “Are you serious?” I gasp.

  “She doesn’t have a lot of friends.” Both Phoenix and Juliana laugh at this.

  Me, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable. The two of them were mortal enemies just a few weeks ago.

  Apparently, they notice.

  “We’re gonna be family soon,” Phoenix says with a wink. “And don’t tell her, but I kind of like her.”

  Juliana smiles and looks down. “I’m kind of glad she does.”

  Aw, the feels! The feels, the love, the happy ever afters.

  I nod vigorously as I feel my eyes mist. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “We would love to get together sometime soon. I know you’re busy, but neither of us have a clue about—”

  “No worries,” I cut Juliana off. “I’ve been planning my wedding since I was five. Leave it to me. I’m your girl.”

  I look up when the door to the bar swings open, and I can’t help smiling when I see Grayson Falcon walk in.

  He lifts his chin at me, winks, and then walks to a nearby stool.

  Shit, shit, shit. Secrets.

  “Hey, I need to go. A customer just walked in. I’ll have it all planned in two days.”

  “Wait, what?” Phoenix laughs.

  “Don’t pick on me. I got this.”

  “Gage and Garrett will be down in a couple hours to look at the back where the old dining room used to be. If it’s okay with your father, they may want to help spruce it up so we can use it and—”

  “It’s fine with him,” I say as I make sure the camera doesn’t show Grayson while I move down the bar toward him.

  “You really should ask—”

  “Gotta go.” I cut Phoenix off.

  Shoving the phone in my pocket, I walk over to Grayson. “What can I get you?”

  “You,” he says, leaning back in the stool and crossing his arms over his chest, causing the tee-shirt to stretch over his broad pecs as he looks at me sternly.

  “Me?” I ask, secretly praying my face doesn’t turn fire engine red.

  “You to answer your text messages.” He smiles now.

  “My what?” I grab my phone from my pocket as he grabs his.

  That phantom ringtone plays “See You Around,” and the message says: This is a text message.

  “Wait, that’s you?” I ask, feeling relieved.

  “Who did you think it was?” he asks leaning forward. “Oh, let me guess; you have a fan club. A ton of random men sending messages to you.”

  I shake my head and grab a glass.

 
; “Mandee, you don’t have to tell me, but since we’re friends and all, why not? I can keep a secret.” He wags his eyebrows at me.

  I will not tell him why I ignored the messages. I won’t because, like everyone else who knows, he will feel sorry for me, or the total opposite—he will judge me.

  “Lots of secret admirers,” I lie.

  “Does little boy Blue know about these admirers?” he whispers.

  I shake my head again. “Let’s keep that a secret, shall we?”

  He looks me up and down slowly, and I immediately feel body parts tighten that should not be tightening in response to my friend, Grayson Falcon’s, intense stare.

  “It’ll cost you,” he says then licks his lips.

  Oh hell, I think to myself.

  “What will it cost me?”

  As soon as I say it, I know I shouldn’t have. I don’t need to flirt. That’s the old me. The one who learned a hard lesson when it came to dealing with men in that sort of way.

  He gestures me forward with his finger, and old Mandee leans in.

  “I’d love something wet and hot,” he whispers, his breath hitting my bare skin and making me shiver slightly.

  I lean in more, but look away and try not to allow the next words to leave my mouth, yet they do.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Coffee,” he says as he leans back and smiles. “I’m exhausted. My brothers and nephew are running me ragged. I’d like to hang out, have a few beers, and unwind. But, I’m afraid without coffee, my head will be on the bar in minutes.”

  I swallow back my inner shame, embarrassment, and smile because, if he can see it, he would have to be one heck of an actor to act like I hadn’t just made an ass out of myself. From what I surmise of him, he’s no actor. He likes to keep his personal life private. Otherwise, he’s pretty darn straight forward.

  “Black?” I ask, turning around and putting my back to him.

  “Unless you have some special creamer that you’d like to add.”

  I swear his voice just dropped an octave, and I am even more sure that his words were very sexual. They make me straighten immediately.

  Dammit.

  After pouring the cup of coffee and bringing it to him, he reaches in his pocket, but I hold up my hand, stopping him.

  “On the house.”

  He smirks, nods, and then lays a pile of bills on the bar. Then I remember the call.

  “In interest of secret keeping and friendships, your future sister-in-laws said your brothers will be here in a couple hours.”

  “Thought I was safe here, Mandee,” he says before taking a sip of the coffee. Then he licks his lips, those beautiful, blood red lips. “I’m not sure this friendship thing’s gonna work out.”

  “No?” I ask, playing along.

  He shakes his head from side to side. “Nope.”

  “Well, you can run and hide, but you’ll be back.” I grab the bar rag and throw it over my shoulder.

  He smiles. “Confident. That’s kind of sexy, you know.”

  It’s fake. I want to tell him that, but I don’t.

  “Maybe not confident. Maybe I just know something you don’t about your family.” I shrug.

  “Highly unlikely.” He rolls his eyes slightly.

  “I think you’re wrong,” I tell him, wiping up the already clean spot on the bar just to stay near him.

  “Let’s place a bet,” he says, setting his cup down then leaning in slightly.

  Knowing I have won this already, since he didn’t hear the conversation, I nod. “You’re on.”

  “You sure? You don’t even know what we’re wagering,” he says, strumming his fingers on the bar.

  “Confident,” I remind him.

  “I win, you cook for me.”

  I laugh. “I can cook.”

  “Not just cook, Mandee. I’m craving something sinfully delicious, and I want you”—he points that long, thick finger at me—“to satisfy that craving.”

  I swallow down the lump in my throat.

  “Nervous?” He chuckles.

  “Not one bit,” I say, giving off all the confidence in the world, partially because I know I will win, but also because he thinks it’s sexy.

  “All right. Now, what would you like me to do to you?” He winks. “I mean, for you, in the highly unlikely event that I lose.”

  “I want you to dance with Pearl next time there’s a band here.”

  “Pearl?”

  I nod. “Pearl.”

  “Okay.” He shrugs. “What’s wrong with this Pearl that you think she can’t get a man to dance with her? One-legged so she’ll fall over? I can hold her up. I’m pretty strong.”

  I laugh. “She has two.”

  “Both feet a left? Doesn’t matter. I lead every dance.” He winks again.

  “Nope, she has a left and a right.”

  As he scratches his head in thought, I see ink on the inside of his bicep. It’s the shadow of a lake and a female figure standing in the water. And quickly, it’s gone.

  “Smell funky?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with her. I just find it highly unlikely that even a man like you could get her to take a turn on the dance floor,” I answer.

  “A man like me?”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “What’s a man like me?” he asks before taking another sip of his coffee.

  I regret my words immediately, but have to tell him something.

  “You Falcons are just different.”

  He grins. “Tall, dark, and handsome?”

  I nod.

  “Phoenix must have told you our other family secret.”

  “Other family secret?”

  He nods. “It’s true.” With that, he sits back and chuckles to himself.

  I grab my mug and take a sip of my coffee, trying to hide the stupid grin caused by one Grayson Falcon.

  “Hot and hung.”

  As soon as his words come out, I nearly choke on my coffee. But instead, it spews out of my mouth...at him.

  “Oh, my God,” I cough out. “I’m so—”

  He laughs loudly from his belly as he wipes the coffee off his face and shirt.

  I grab a dry bar rag and rush around the bar to clean up my...embarrassing mess.

  He’s still laughing, and it’s contagious. I wipe at his face as he continues.

  “It’s not all that funny,” I reprimand him, trying to stop my own laughter.

  As he sits back and becomes a little quieter, I continue to wipe his shirt.

  “Stop laughing,” I say, yet start laughing again.

  “It’s a funny thing, this thing we have going.” He chuckles. “First ever female friend, who is confident, sexy, and kind of sweet, and you got me wet, twice. I feel like I should return the favor.”

  I look up at him and freeze.

  His eyes become more intense, causing heat to resonate in places heat should not resonate.

  With the bar windows open and no music playing, I hear gravel crunching as someone pulls in. I know I should step back, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

  “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice huskier. “Our secrets are going to be revealed if that’s my brothers.”

  I step back, turn around, and force a laugh. However, he grabs my hand, stopping me, and I look back.

  “They don’t scare me. But Phoenix...” He pauses, shivers, and then releases me. “I don’t think she’d like it much.”

  “Like what?” I ask, and then clear the thickness of desire from my throat. “We’re friends. If I spit coffee on her, I’d—”

  “Could also be your boyfriend,” he says.

  The screen door opens, and I look toward it, seeing Blue’s smile fade a little bit, and then appear again.

  “Hey, babe. Lunch being served yet?”

  I nod and start to walk around the bar. He’s late every day for lunch.

  “Hold up.” Blue chuckles, and I stop and turn around.

  He walks up and gives me a hug, which
is normal.

  I look at Grayson and watch him sit back, crossing his arms then looking away as his eyes narrow.

  Then Blue kisses me. On the mouth. In the bar.

  I step back and look at him. I’m sure I looked shocked, because I am.

  “Sorry, babe. It’s been a few days since I had a chance to kiss you. Bars empty, your dad’s not around”—he smiles—“so gotta sneak ’em in while I can.”

  I nod and turn around because I can see Grayson out of the corner of my eyes, looking at me in a way that leads me to believe he disapproves. And as wrong as it is, I like it.

  “Grayson Falcon, what brings you in again?” Blue asks, sitting next to him.

  Grayson holds up his cup of coffee.

  “You think the coffee here is good, you should check out Higgins diner in town,” he says.

  “Trying to send paying customers out the door? Thought you liked Mandee here.” He nods toward me.

  Blue laughs, and Grayson smiles, but it doesn’t hit his eyes. Then, uncomfortable silence sets in.

  “Blue, you want the special?” I ask.

  He nods. “Pearl’s meatloaf?”

  “Yep,” I tell him.

  “Pearl? This the same Pearl in our little bet?” Grayson asks.

  “Bet?” Blue asks quickly.

  Grayson smirks at me, and I smile and nod.

  “So, you two have a bet?” Blue asks again.

  I look away from Grayson and at Blue. “He thinks I don’t know something he does about his family.”

  “Oh hell, not this again,” Blue jokes.

  “No, not fucking that again,” Grayson says immediately.

  To stop what would surely be an uncomfortable discussion, again, and may possibly turn into a fight, I jump in.

  “Grayson, when’s Garrett and Juliana’s wedding?”

  “Like, the actual date?” he asks, and I smile and nod. “Unfair, Mandee, unfair. Guys don’t remember that kind of thing.”

  “Fine, where is it?” I ask.

  He gives me a half-smile. “Their place, of course.”

  “And?”

  He looks down as if he’s deep in thought, and then his smile returns. “Here.”

  “What?” I ask, stunned that he knows.

  “Here at Carlin’s.” He taps on the bar, now grinning.