by L. B. Dunbar
“Didn’t that happen in The Big Chill?” Zack asks, and I groan.
“This is not the eighties, and why are we even discussing my sex life?” I sigh, my shoulders tensing.
“I’m good with talking about your sex life,” Mason teases, taking a seat next to Zack, who tips a beer bottle toward the resident player, and they tap the glass necks.
“I don’t think we should be discussing her sex life,” Logan defends, lowering for the cooler at his feet, lifting the lid, and hastily pulling out a beer. He isn’t even standing upright before the top cracks open, and the bottle is at his lips. He’s swallowing with quick chugs, and his Adam’s apple bobs. Watching that slight knob roll along his throat, I want to lick over that part of him and then rub my cheek against that scruff on his jaw. I wonder what it would feel like between my thighs, up against my . . . but there will be none of that. While I crushed hard on Logan Anders as a teenager, that infatuation ended with a crash and heartbreak long ago. However, I don’t miss that he’s defending me.
“Finally,” I say, waving out a hand at him. “Someone’s on my side.”
“Oh, he’d be on your side alright,” Zack mutters before tipping up his beer for another sip. Logan glares at Zack. I don’t understand what they aren’t saying, but I don’t want to know. These guys are still buffoons, and I’m the little sister they love to tease.
“We’re not discussing this,” I huff, throwing myself onto a chair and staring out at my niece playing with the other children in the water.
“I’m sorry,” Anna says, lowering to a seat beside mine. With my arms crossed, my body language reads like a petulant child.
“It’s fine,” I lie, but it isn’t. Anna has it all, as does my brother, and it isn’t fair. And I don’t mean that negatively against them as I love them both, but I just want my own little share of life—a baby.
My hands roughly grasp the beach chair arms, and I quickly stand.
“I’m going for a walk,” I mutter.
“I’ll go with you,” Anna says, shuffling to rise from her seat.
“No, you stay.” These are her friends and a part of her perfect life. I just want to be alone for a minute like I always am.
4
[Logan]
“What the fuck was that all about?” I ask, watching Autumn’s hips sway and her backside clench as she walks away. Her toned legs flex as she stalks over the sand, and my mouth waters. I want to lick up those hamstrings and nibble at the crease where her ass meets her legs. Then I want to press my face between those thighs and feast.
I’d like to say I don’t normally think like this about women, and in many ways, I don’t. But from the second I’ve laid eyes on Autumn, I cannot get my thoughts under control. Then I hear this about a baby.
“She’s just struggling. I’d say it’s a midlife crisis, but she’s too young. Women don’t have those until after forty,” Anna states, glancing out at the kids jumping in the waves.
“And when do men have them?” Zack asks.
“Thirty-five,” Anna clarifies like she’s a psychologist instead of a middle school teacher.
“I think I missed mine,” Mason states, and Ben laughs.
“That’s because you’d have to grow up a little first before questioning what you’ve done with your life so far.”
We all laugh, but Mason’s eyes pinch. Ben’s words have hit a mark. Mason is a cad with women, but he’s also a good guy at heart, and I have my suspicions he’s been in love with a woman who broke his heart. Assuming she was someone unobtainable or resistant to the Mason Becker charm, it’s wearing on our friend that he can’t seem to replace whoever it was in his life. In some ways, I know the feeling. I thought Chloe was my everything. I thought we’d be together forever. After Lorna was born, something changed. I worked hard to provide for my family, but it wasn’t good enough, or maybe it was too much. Chloe grew distant and then indifferent. She didn’t seem to care about me anymore, and one day, she said exactly that. Surprisingly, we divorced relatively amicably, deciding it was better to suck up our hurts for the sake of our daughter. Separate but together was how Chloe worded it. I never liked the phrase.
Gazing down the beach, I watch Autumn grow smaller and smaller on the edge of the shore.
“So what’s with the list?” I ask.
“What list?” Ben asks.
“The one with three men.”
Anna dismissively waves me off. “Oh, I just made that up. She doesn’t have an official list. Not yet. I’m just suggesting she do it that way. Then she can keep things attachment-free like she always does.”
“I don’t want her unattached, though,” Ben admits, and Anna catches his eye.
“I know, but you can’t make her fall in love. Like you couldn’t make any of those losers she’s dated fall in love with her. You want her to be happy, but too often, she settles.”
Ben nods, and a more serious discussion falls into the cracks of what isn’t being said.
“Sounds like the very definition of a loser if they didn’t love her,” Mason states, surprising all of us.
“What happened to the guy she was living with?” I ask.
“Rick,” Ben clarifies.
“What happened is, he put his dick into another woman,” Anna bluntly speaks.
“I love when you talk dirty,” Mason growls with a smirky grin before he takes a pull from his beer.
“Ouch.” Zack winces at the suggestion of cheating before lifting his beer for a sip.
“Men suck,” Mason adds, and we all chuckle. He hasn’t been the most faithful of men. Then again, he hasn’t been disloyal to women either. He’s clear about being attachment-resistant. No commitments from him.
“Well, the right man is still out there for her. I believe that. I have to believe that,” Anna says, gazing over at Ben. We’ve formed a circle of sorts with Ben and Anna across from one another and the rest of us falling in line minus the empty seat next to me. A circle of friends as Lorna would sing from some Girl Scout song. It’s still amazing to me that our friendship has lasted this long.
“What’s the plan for the next two weeks?” asks Zack, the most uptight and schedule-driven of us.
“Eat. Drink. Be merry,” Ben states.
“Or do a Mary if we find one,” Mason states.
“Dude,” Zack hisses before laughing, and Ben smiles.
“No extracurriculars at the house,” Ben warns. “I want everyone to relax and hang out. Feel like this is your home away from home. Come and go but don’t disappear.” It’s all said in a fatherly tone. Ben’s taking our time together seriously.
“To together,” Zack says, tipping his beer to Ben, who hasn’t been drinking one although it’s open and poised on the armrest of his chair. Ben tips his beer to Zack’s.
“To living, loving, losing, and learning,” Ben adds.
“That sounds dull. To the four points of a compass.” Mason lifts his beer.
“Welcome home,” Anna adds, lifting hers in salute. They wait on me, but I don’t know what to add.
“To forever friends,” I say. Ben’s eyes meet mine across our circle, and he slowly smiles.
“I like that,” he says.
“You two sound like thirteen-year-old chicks,” Mason teases.
“What’s wrong with thirteen-year-old girls?” Anna defends.
“Nothing. If you’re like an eleven-year-old boy,” Mason counters.
“Why eleven?” Zack asks.
“Always trade up,” Mason jokes, and we all groan. “What? I matured early.”
“You never matured,” I tease, but this time, Mason doesn’t look hurt because he knows I’m right. He’ll be a kid until he dies, and that’s not a bad way to be. I just don’t want him to decide he’ll trade down and go after a certain someone’s younger sister.
+ + +
“What do you think of Speck and all this baby business?” Mason asks as we enter the upstairs hallway after an afternoon of sunshine and too mu
ch beer. My head is fuzzy, and I need a nap before dinner, but that’s not happening. I’ll have to settle for a wake-me-up shower and a cold one at that. After a day of watching Autumn on the beach, lounging in the sun, and playing with the kids, especially Lorna and Mila, I’ve had a raging hard-on that needs a good beating. Or three. I cannot get Autumn out of my thoughts. Her laughter. Her smile. Her incredible body.
Fuck. It’s crazy how consumed I’ve been by her all day.
“For one, I think you should stop calling her Speck.” Said harsher than necessary, I realize I’m just worked up.
“I’d baby-make with her without the baby part,” Mason states, wiggling his brows.
I’m not a violent person, but I drop the shirt I’ve been holding and pin Mason against the wall. Typically, I’d be a fumbling mess, but my strength has improved with my diet and workout regime. Mason gasps for air as he tries to speak with my forearm at his throat.
“Dude,” he groans.
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
Mason tries to shove me off him, and I let him. Smoothing down his T-shirt, he glares at me. “I’d never do anything to Baby Kulis. I’m just stating a fact. She’s changed. A lot.”
I’ve noticed, but so has Mason, and it isn’t settling well with me. He’s been known to steal a girl or two from me once they get a look at him.
“Don’t be a dick,” I mumble, bending at the waist for my shirt on the floor.
“Want to tap that yourself?” he teases.
“Shut up,” I hiss, turning my head to make certain no one else hears him. “I’m not going to talk disrespectfully about her.”
“Disrespectfully? That’s a big word.” Mason holds up spread fingers waving them in a manner Lorna would call jazz hands. “I’m not being disrespectful. I’m just stating the four-one-one.”
“Well, keep your four-one-one to yourself as well as your dick.” Turning away from him, I don’t want a response from him. Giving him my back, I reach for the knob of my bedroom door and slam it after I enter the room. Dropping my shirt again, I lay back against the wood and scrub both hands over my hair. I shouldn’t be this worked up. Baby Kulis, as Mason called her, wouldn’t be interested in me anyway. She’ll always think of me as the funny one. The sweet guy in the crowd. A guy who might win a girl for his personality, but nothing else, like having a heart.
Like her, I’ve changed a lot, but one thing is still the same. She’s Ben’s little sister, which means off-limits.
5
[Autumn]
While I didn’t appreciate my sister-in-law spilling the beans about my business to these guys, I couldn’t stay mad at her. As always, Ben tried to smooth my ruffled feathers, and after an afternoon at the beach with everyone else’s children, I was even more determined to come up with a plan. Life was short, and mine was not getting shorter. I wanted a baby, and despite not having a husband or even a boyfriend, I needed to make baby magic happen.
Then my mother showed up.
“I’m just here to say hello,” she announces, appearing conveniently after dinner with desserts in hand.
Mrs. Kulis and Mama K ring out around the table to honor my mother. As the co-owner of Kulis Landscaping with my father, my mother knows these boys well. Mason began working for Dad before his junior year of high school, while Zack had been a family friend from the moment he was born. When Logan joined the group, he spent an entire summer with us when he had nowhere else to go after his freshman year of college.
“Hope you boys are all behaving,” Mom adds as if they are still twenty instead of forty. My mother is a good woman even though she can be meddlesome, especially in my life. She and my father had a perfect marriage, according to her, while Ben and I know they had their difficult moments. Being married is hard work, my mother would say. You seed. You plant. You grow. You harvest. Sometimes, I felt her words of wisdom were directed at me as if I wasn’t willing to work hard at anything. Then again, I’d been the office manager of the landscaping business for years before dedicating myself to my own business affairs.
“Mama K, heard you might be a grandmother again soon,” Mason blurts, and I want to kick him under the dinner table.
“Really?” She turns to Ben and Anna as the obvious answer, but she also knows that isn’t a possibility. Then she turns to me. Her brow tweaks, and I shake my head, wordlessly glaring at Mason.
Oh boy. Way to get me in trouble with my own mother.
“I can’t stay. I just wanted to drop these off.” She waves at the plates of cookies she brought. I’d already brought a fresh tray of sweets from my café, but one can never have too many desserts even though I try to be better about consuming sugary treats now that I’m older.
A round of begging her to stay follows, encouraging her to hang out a bit.
“I can’t.”
“Hot date?” Mason teases, and Ben glares at him next. Since our father's death, our mother has not been on a date that we are aware of. She’d be the first to say she’s still young at sixty-three, but I’m not certain dating is on her radar.
“Knitting club,” she replies to Mason.
“Gotta be careful around those sticks,” he warns, wiggling his brows.
“Dude, you’re so rude,” Logan says while Zack just shakes his head at Mason’s antics.
“Mama K is used to it from me.” He winks at our mother, who pinkens just the slightest. She is used to Mason’s crassness, but it doesn’t mean his language doesn’t affect her.
“Okay. Be good,” she says to the table, but her eyes meet mine. “Autumn, walk me out.”
“Dun-dun-dun,” Ben mutters under his breath as I stand from my seat, and I smack him on the back of the head as I pass him. I should really reach over and tap Anna since she started this. The list has been another source of conversation during dinner, including Anna’s recommendation I consider Bert, a local veterinarian. She gives me a sympathetic look, but it’s too late as I follow my mother to the front of the house. The seed has been planted in Mama K’s ear.
We haven’t even cleared the front door when my mother turns on me. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of you having a baby?”
“I’m not having a baby.” At least, not yet. She doesn’t need to know the particulars, and I don’t even have an official plan.
“Well, you aren’t getting any younger,” she reminds me.
“Thank you. I wasn’t aware.”
“No need to take that tone with me, missy.” Spoken without ire, her position as my mother seeps into her words. She’s open-minded about most things, especially when I moved in with man number three, minus an engagement ring. Still, she’s meddlesome.
“What did Mason mean, then?” she questions. Standing on the driveway, she waits out an answer despite the oh-so-pressing knitting club.
“He’s just being Mason.”
My mother’s eyes narrow, disbelieving my rebuttal.
“Well, as long as Mason isn’t the father . . .” While my mother might adore my brother’s friends, she didn’t want me to end up with one of them except maybe Zack, which was never a possibility. His mother is her best friend, and like the sister she never had, they both would have enjoyed our families joining in matrimony.
“Mason will not be the father,” I state, trying to assure her. I also want to move her along. “You should get to knitting. You don’t want to be late.”
“Yes, yes,” she says, giving me a wave as she turns for her car. “My date with dueling sticks.”
I softly chuckle, grateful Mason hadn’t heard that statement.
+ + +
The next morning, I’m working at my current baby—Crossroads Café. The old pit stop was once a diner of sorts, run-down and in need of some serious tender loving care. The interior is white on white with white subway tiles on the walls and black and white square floor tiles decorating the place. Black racks hold the minimal dry goods, which complement our array of breakfast items, homemade deluxe sandwiches, and healthy
snacks, along with some not-so-healthy but heavenly desserts. A short standing counter near a long window allows for indoor eating and beverage enjoyment.
I don’t bake or make our products as much as I initially did, allowing my capable staff to work their magic. Still, I’m here every day working alongside them in whatever capacity I’m needed.
Morning times, the coffee rush has me behind the counter tackling the register.
“Welcome to Crossroads, may I take—” I stop short as Logan stands on the other side of the counter.
“Is this your café?” His eyes widen in surprise.
“I don’t just pour the coffee.” My sarcastic tone is unwarranted, but I’m still raw—and embarrassed—after yesterday’s information dump on the beach plus the continued conversation at dinner. I don’t need his judgment of my decision. I also don’t need his approval. I’m a grown woman and can do as I please.
“This is incredible,” he says, turning to look around him at the chalkboard menus, the coffee-complement station, and the standing-only counter. With his hands on his hips, sweat soaks a dark gray T-shirt covering his chest. His shorts suggest he’s been out for a morning run.
“What can I get you?” I nod toward the long line behind him as I don’t have time for his compliments, although I appreciate them. He eyes the desserts and the breakfast treats, which include scones, muffins, and croissants.
“Just a coffee, dark roast is great.” His eyes wander back to the sugary goodies.
“Are you sure you don’t want a raspberry breakfast bar? Maybe the chocolate croissant?” I tease. He certainly doesn’t have his currently buff body from eating such delicacies daily, but he’s on vacation.
“I can’t. I have diabetes.”
Standing straighter, I blink in surprise. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” And now I feel like an asshole for pushing things that could be detrimental to his health.
He waves me off and pats his belly. “I’m better for it.” Still, he can’t be better if he has diabetes. Rocco heard Logan’s order for dark roast and slides the to-go cup next to the tablet we use as a register. As Logan reaches into his pocket, I wave him off.
