And pretty soon he’d be working the dream job. Traveling, meeting new people, baking and meeting other bakers across the country.
Other than Sweet Spot, he had no commitments. The lease on his brownstone had to be renewed every six months, the lease on his SUV every two years. Just like Maine’s motto, it was the way life should be.
Willing his libido to cool, he bent down and pecked her cheek. “Today was fun, but I’m wondering what you have up your sleeve for us for next week. Should I be worried about your payback’s a bitch statement, or did I do all right?”
“Oh, I owe you big for today. Next week’s adventure’s gonna knock your socks off.”
He’d prefer it if she knocked his shorts off, but he’d take what he could get. “Don’t forget about the Fourth of July at my place. We’ll grill around five but come whenever. The fireworks show from my deck is amazing. And you won’t have to worry about the gridlock of traffic when it’s all over.”
“I’m looking forward to it. What can I bring?”
“Nothing. Just yourself.”
“Can I…uh…bring a friend? I sort of forgot that I had already made tentative plans. I can—”
“Absolutely. Bring a friend. The more the merrier.”
She smiled shyly and slid into the front seat.
Trent couldn’t wait to meet Rayne’s friend. Hopefully she could fill him in on some unanswered questions.
Chapter Three
Rayne
“I’m going out of my mind, Sage.” Rayne hung her head upside down and wrapped her wet hair in her towel. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and shook her heavy head. “I’m going freaking nuts. I can’t believe I let Kevin talk me into this again.”
“You said it. You are freaking nuts. The guy’s a loser. There’s a very good reason you broke up with him—”
“He dumped me.”
“Because you were about to bust his ass for cheating on you.” Sage stretched out her right foot on Rayne’s bed and admired her freshly painted toes.
“We never said we were exclusive.”
“Raynie, he told you he loved you. And you said you loved him…”
Sage didn’t need to state her opinion. Again. Rayne knew exactly how Sage felt about her love life. It didn’t help that her sister didn’t believe in love. The trail of men she left in her dust could spread from coast to coast. That they had completely differing views on relationships and matters of the heart and were still close was surely a testament to their sisterly bond. She only wished Sage would get along better with Thyme. Thyme had always been the flighty sister, and Sage’s OCD had no tolerance for it.
“You’re a fool but I love you. And you know I don’t throw that word around,” Sage grumbled. “If you feel obligated to keep this stupid date with Kevin, at least you’re bringing him to Trent’s. I haven’t met this guy yet but it sounds like he cares a lot about you. I’d like to get his take on the stupid oaf. I may stop by Sweet Spot after and—”
“Don’t you dare, Sage Lavender Wilde. You stay out of this!”
Sage brought her dainty foot closer and painted a second coat of fuchsia nail polish on her toenails. “I’m just saying…”
“No, you’re not. You love to meddle. It’s probably why you’re the best event planner in southern Maine.” Rayne loosened her towel, slipped on a pair of shorts and pulled a tank top over her head. “Plan, plan, plan. That’s what you do. But you can’t plan my life, Sage.”
“Oh, don’t I know it,” Sage snorted. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
“And you can’t meddle.”
“Oh, that I can do. As your best friend and favorite sister, I’ve earned that privilege. I’m looking out for your best interests.”
“Whatever.” Rayne walked back into the bathroom and turned on her hair dryer. Going out with Kevin was definitely a mistake, even though she made it clear to him they were just friends now. As a professional bodybuilder, Kevin was more interested in the size of his muscles and his spray tan than he was Rayne. Kevin liked her profession and how she looked on his arm. His love for fitness was what got them together in the first place, but his obsession with it, and himself, and other women, is what drove her away. She knew she was using him as a distraction but he wouldn’t care. They’d go out on the Fourth, hang out with Trent and Brian, watch the fireworks, and she’d go home alone.
Pulling her hair up in a clip, Rayne stuck her head out the bathroom door and called to Sage. “If I somehow cave and let Kevin come home with me tomorrow night, you have my permission to smack me over the head, lock me in my apartment, and never let me date again. Promise.”
“Oh, you’re on, girlfriend. After tomorrow night, you’ll never see that bastard again. Why you are keeping this date is beyond me…No, it’s actually not. You’re good to a fault.” Sage got up and put the nail polish on Rayne’s dresser. “You’re too sweet, always trying to make everyone happy. But don’t even think about making Kevin happy, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After Sage left, Rayne made a quick grocery list and headed to the market to pick up the makings for a fruit salad to bring to Trent’s cookout. The last of her groceries loaded, she closed the trunk of her car and was startled to see Brian standing behind her cart.
“I thought that was you. I came over to offer a hand. It looks like you’re all set.”
“Thanks. Just picking up a few things for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Trent said you’re coming to the cookout. Faith will be happy to see you.” He laughed.
“Oh, where is the angel?”
“Claire’s with her while I help Trent set up for tomorrow. You know he can bake, but did you know he’s king of the grill as well? Men have tried to strip him of the title, but I don’t mind keeping the barbecue tongs in his hand. All I have to do is sit back and eat.”
Rayne chuckled. “I guess that’s why you two make the perfect couple.”
“What?”
Realizing Brian, too, may not like discussing his sexual status, Rayne backpedaled. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. Trent doesn’t talk about his sexuality either. I should respect your privacy.”
“Okay…” Brian cocked his head and lowered his sunglasses. He was a handsome man as well. She could see why Trent would be attracted to him. “What exactly doesn’t he like to discuss?”
“Well…your relationship. I know you were childhood friends, but when did you both realize you were gay?”
Brian started coughing. Clearly he didn’t expect her to get so personal.
“Gay?”
“Forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I really admire him…and you. You’re both very nice men and such good fathers.” Seeing his embarrassment, Rayne pulled her keys from her purse and opened her door. “I’m sorry, Brian. Forget I ever asked. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She slid into her car and closed the door, hoping she didn’t ruin the best relationship she’d ever had.
***
Brian
“And you didn’t correct her?” Claire slapped Brian on the arm. “You idiot! The poor girl.”
Brian couldn’t stop laughing. The tears had finally stopped flowing out of his eyes, but his body still shook with amusement. So, the girl who had Trent all twisted up in knots thought he was gay. This couldn’t be any funnier. In truth, Brian had been surprised that Trent could keep his hands off such a hot woman and that she could actually be content with a friendship with Trent. The girls fell at his feet. Hell, he’d won that crazy-ass Zumba bet because Trent couldn’t go five minutes without getting hit on.
And the only reason Rayne didn’t hit on Trent was because she thought he was gay.
Too. Freakin’. Hilarious. Oh, he’d have fun with this one.
“Brian Smart. Don’t you dare. You call my brother right now and tell him about this. He deserves to know. And so does that poor girl. She’s going to feel like a fool when she finds out.”
“Yeah, yeah, yea
h. I’ll tell him. Give me some time to enjoy this. She thinks he’s gay.” Another fit of laughter erupted from his lungs as he wrapped his wife in a bear hug.
“And she thinks you’re gay too, Mr. Funnypants.”
Shit. That was not funny at all.
***
Trent
It must have been the cloudless, blue sky and flawless eighty-degree day. Or the ocean breeze. Maybe it was the busy morning at the bakery? No, Trent’s good mood had nothing to do with weather and finances. And he wouldn’t admit that it had anything to do with a gorgeous brunette who’d be entering his home in—he took out his cell phone and checked the time—four minutes.
Trent didn’t get nervous. Or excited. No, he was as cool as the frozen watermelon sorbet he made last night. Just chillin’. That was Trent. That was why he stayed in the backyard, pouring lighter fluid over the cold, black briquettes, waiting for the ebony cubes to turn ash gray, and not in the house, pacing and staring out the front window. Not a thing on his mind but grillin’ and swillin’ and chillin’.
The friend status with Rayne had been going surprisingly well despite the constant cold showers and lack of sex. Granted, he’d prefer friends with benefits, but he’d settle. Nope, no anxiety attack coming on at all.
The doorbell rang and his internal sorbet quickly melted. No longer chillin’, now he was sweatin’. Wiping the beads of perspiration off his forehead with his t-shirt—yeah, he was classy too—he quickly turned his back to the sliding door, pretending to be enthralled with his grill and not his newest guest.
And then he heard her voice. So happy. So sweet. She ohhed. Claire must have given her the baby to hold. Trent couldn’t make out the words; all he could hear was her smooth-as-milk-chocolate voice cooing to the baby.
Damn. He should have been on baby patrol instead of manning the grill. But no. Nobody touched the meat in his house. Instantly his mind switched to pig status and thought of some meat that he’d let Rayne handle.
Gross. No. He wasn’t a pig, but she brought out the teenage boy in him. He’d be lucky if he didn’t drool on her over the chicken. Trent lit a match and dropped it in the barbeque pit, enjoying the sudden whoosh as the charcoal caught on fire.
The deep baritone of a male voice brought his thoughts back to PG land. Someone else had arrived as well. Figuring it was Cote and Thomas from the Rock Gym, he stayed outside and tended to his meat. Most likely they were ogling Rayne and her friend and had no desire to hang with Trent.
Couldn’t blame them, really.
The slider opened and Brian stepped out.
“Dude,” he said and slapped Trent on the back. “We gotta talk. Fast.”
Brian furrowed his brows and sucked in his teeth, glancing over his shoulder one more time before turning to face Trent again.
“Rayne? Is she all right?”
Brian blocked his view of the house. Something didn’t smell right and it wasn’t the charcoal.
***
Brian
Claire was right. Brian would make it up to her tonight after Faith was asleep. Damn. He should have told Trent yesterday. Or at least this morning. Brian never would have guessed that Rayne’s friend would be a boyfriend. If one could call him a boy. He stood easily at six and half feet and probably weighed in at 250. All muscle. The guy was jacked, not the kind of guy Brian wanted Trent to mess around with.
The Hulk had his hand on Rayne’s butt the entire time she was holding Faith. Brian had tried with polite conversation but the dude completely ignored him, instead making his declaration of love to Rayne, going on about the babies they were going to make. She didn’t seem to be into the Hulk the way he was into her, but Brian still needed to warn Trent.
Judging by Trent’s over-the-top cheerful mood, he was most likely expecting to get lucky tonight. Fireworks could be romantic—Brian knew that first hand. Last Fourth of July was when Claire proclaimed she wanted a baby. And for the next few weeks he was the luckiest guy in the world, his wife wanting it morning, noon, and night. Of course, most of that sexual bliss ended once she got pregnant and threw up for twelve straight weeks.
“Yeah. She’s…uh. Fine. I need to tell you something—”
“There you are! Of course I’d find you out at the grill.”
Rayne came skipping out the door and into Trent’s arms, kissing him on the cheek. A completely platonic kiss for her gay friend.
There was no mistaking the mountain of lust and something a bit deeper in his friend’s eyes.
“Hey, there. I’m so glad you came. I can’t wait for you to see the fireworks tonight. The view from the yard is—”
“Hey, babe. Do you know where the beer is?”
Brian scrunched his face in concern and peeked at Trent out of one eye. Trent’s focused stare bounced from the Hulk to Rayne to Brian, the question in his mind evident.
“Um, I brought water and a bottle of wine—”
“Come on in with me. I’ll grab you one,” Brian interjected and jogged inside, but not before missing Trent’s beady stare. Once in the kitchen, he placated the Hulk with a beer and offered to show him Trent’s weight system in the basement. Leaving him down there, he ran upstairs and sought out his wife.
“Help. Distract Rayne while I go talk to Trent.” He kissed his wife on the lips, fast and hard. “Don’t say it. I know. You were right.”
Dashing outside, he plastered on a fake smile and called to Rayne, “Mind helping Claire with a few things in the kitchen? I know it’s totally sexist, but she said she didn’t want my help.” He laughed, trying to mask his nervousness.
“Absolutely! I’d love to help,” the adorable woman said as she went into the house.
***
Trent
As soon as Rayne closed the screen door behind her, Trent grabbed Brian’s shirt, pulled him close, and growled, “What the hell is going on?”
“Well, uh…” Brian’s gaze was everywhere but at Trent. Guilt flooded his face, and his shoulders sagged.
Trent let him go, keeping a stern watch on him.
“Okay, well, this is actually kind of funny.” Brian laughed, not the funny-ha-ha laugh, but a nervous one.
“Spit it out, Bri,” Trent growled, picking up his beer bottle.
“Well, I guess there’s been some misunderstanding between you and Rayne. She seems to think that you are…that you and I are…” Brian shifted on his feet, made a flailing motion with his hands, and then shoved them in his pockets. “That, well, that you play for the other team.”
Trent choked on his beer. “I love women. I’ve had lots and lots of sex with lots and lots of women. Why the hell would she think that? What did you tell her?”
“I, uh, didn’t tell her anything. I ran into her at the grocery store yesterday and she said…some stuff. Before I could correct her she left.”
“You couldn’t say, ‘No, Trent’s not gay. He’s a freakin’ stud’?”
“Um, saying something like that, well, coming from me, would not really help our cause.”
“Who’s the muscle?”
“Her boyfriend?”
“No.” Trent shook his head. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Or didn’t last week.”
“They were talking babies and crap inside. Well, he was. Kevin said he—”
“Damn. Stay here.” He shoved the tongs and his beer at Brian. “Don’t burn my freakin’ chicken.”
Trent stormed in the house and zeroed in on Rayne. Cote and Thomas were flirting shamelessly with her and Claire in the kitchen. Not caring how cavemanish he looked, he grabbed Rayne by the arm and pulled her down the hall. “Come with me. Now.”
Shoving open his bedroom door, he pulled Rayne inside, slamming it behind her, then stalked up to her, pinning her to the wall with his body. Almost. He didn’t dare touch her. But he had to fix this mess.
“Trent, what’s wrong? You look…” She reached up to touch his face but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall above her head. Her gasp turned him on
far more than it should have. He braced himself, propping his body away from hers.
“I…” he crushed his mouth to hers quickly, “…am not…” he whispered now, staring down at her pink, wet lips, and slowly brushed them with his mouth. “Gay.” He opened his mouth and prayed to God she would let him in. No coaxing necessary. Rayne opened up and gave him free rein.
It was true bliss. Strawberries and cream. He licked her, played with her, and she gave as much as she took. Her free hand fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. Damn. He could do this all day. The bed was five steps behind him. He knew he could dance her over, lay her down, and strip her of her tight denim shorts and sexy-as-sin red tank top. And she’d love every minute of it.
Someone moaned.
Rayne Wilde had lips and a body that were meant for loving—but no, Rayne Wilde was made for more than that. For true love. White knight. House. Kids. Promises. Trent was none of those things and he respected her too much to pretend otherwise. And making out with her like a dog in heat would only fill her head with romantic thoughts. And Trent was anything but romantic. And the exact opposite of relationship material. Damn. She molded her body to his, asking—hell, begging—for him to give her more. Rayne didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t let her think the kiss was anything more than a point being proven. Next thing he knew she’d be picking out flowers for the wedding.
Reluctantly, Trent pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “Clear?”
“Wow.” Her milk chocolate eyes darkened, and he imagined what they’d look like if he touched more than just her lips.
Yeah, totally shouldn’t have done that. She wanted a husband and kids. Badly. And she had a guy in the other room who was probably willing to give her a multitude of babies and the American Dream.
Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) Page 4
