by Vanessa Vale
I slowed down in front of the house where Avery’s family lived. Unlike the others on the block, there were no holiday lights adorning the eaves and no tacky reindeer in the yard. They either didn’t celebrate Christmas or had zero holiday spirit. I assumed the latter.
“I guess this is it,” Jackson said. “Think we’ll get her to agree to come out with us?”
Now it was my turn to shrug, feigning a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “This is destiny, remember? We just need to show her how good it can be.”
“Destiny?” he asked, eyes wide. “When have you ever used that word before?”
I rolled my eyes because he was right. I sounded like an ass. “Fine. She liked us to be in charge the other night. We’ll do it again. Fuck destiny. We want Avery and we’re going up that walk to get her.”
I wasn’t sure who I was reassuring with my bold pep talk. Him or me.
4
AVERY
* * *
Just one day back and I was ready to flee again. I’d slept away most of the first day, catching up after twenty-four hours of traveling…and fucking. I’d woken up to my parents bickering—they didn’t even try to keep their voices down—and now I just wanted to go back upstairs and crawl into my childhood bed.
But I wasn’t tired and there was no way my mom would let me sleep through my entire visit. I’d intentionally made these trips home shorter and more infrequent over the years and she never let me forget it. But listening to my parents argue about the same old shit drove me away. Not that they knew that. It was normal for them.
“I don’t understand why you can’t find a real job and settle down like your sister.” My mom was chopping vegetables with a vengeance, like she could get out almost thirty years’ worth of repressed hatred for my father if she just diced carrots with enough vigor.
I ignored the question like I always did. I loved my job. Sure, it had its downsides, and the violence during this last trip was a good reminder of that, but overall, I enjoyed what I did. I was employed by one magazine, but was a consistent contributor to three others. I had a steady paycheck, benefits. I saw the world, met new and fascinating people. Knew from these experiences that my parents were miserable and they enjoyed making the people around them—namely me—miserable, too.
I was proud of what I did, that I found my own happiness, despite what my family thought about it.
Sure enough, my father couldn’t resist the urge to throw in his own two cents as he came in the room. I had his thick, curly hair, although his was cut short and was now mostly gray. “Leave the girl alone, Marla. If she wants to get herself killed traveling to some godforsaken country on the other side of the world, nothing you say is going to stop her.”
I snagged one of the carrots my mom had finished cutting and stuck a piece of it in my mouth. Maybe if I was chewing, I could fight the urge to defend myself, and the loud crunch could tune them out.
I had to hand it to my dad, though. He was such a pro at the dysfunctional family thing that he’d managed to take an opposing stance against my mom while still making me feel like shit. They were experts at passive aggressiveness.
Way to go, Pops.
My mother spun around, her knife raised dangerously as she jabbed it in my father’s direction. “Don’t you go getting morbid on us, Frank. Her job might be dangerous, but I’m sure she takes every precaution.”
I opened my mouth to thank her for standing up for me, but stopped when she continued.
“But why she feels the need to leave in the first place, I’ll never understand.” She turned to me, apparently remembering that I was in the same room with them. “Why can’t you find a good man, like your sister?”
Ugh. My sister. I loved Jackie, just like I loved my parents. With an arm’s length wariness. We might have our issues, but family was family and that was why I was sitting here, two weeks before Christmas, in the last place I wanted to be. Jackie was only getting married once—or so I assumed—and so I’d wear the seafoam green dress that looked like something out of an 80’s teen flick. Bridesmaid was one thing, but I’d rather stab my mom’s knife in my arm before I followed in my sister’s footsteps.
Younger than me by two years, Jackie had chosen a completely different life path. While I’d raced out the front door the day after graduation and rarely looked back, hell bent on seeing the world outside Bridgewater, Jackie had settled in even deeper.
As far as I knew, the only time she’d left the state was to go to our cousin’s wedding in Seattle a few years ago, and even then, all she’d done was bitch and moan about everything that was different from what she knew. Which was everything, really. She’d hated the traffic, the food tasted weird, the people were rude. Take the girl out of Bridgewater and she’d turned into a whining nightmare. And that was Washington state. I doubted she was headed to Hawaii or Mexico for her honeymoon.
Last year, Jackie had accomplished her only life goal—she’d met a Montana boy and decided to settle down. Collin seemed nice enough from the few times I’d met him, but he was hardly my idea of Prince Charming.
I wished Jackie and Collin nothing but the best, but I resented the hell out of the fact that their lives were constantly held up by my parents as the be-all, end-all of happiness. My sister had never tried to do anything more with her life than wait tables and marry, but somehow, they always seemed so much prouder of her than they ever had of me, even though I worked my butt off and had made a good career for myself in a competitive industry.
I almost tried to explain to them for the millionth time what exactly it was that I did, but what was the point? I used to show them the articles I’d written in the magazines, the pictures I’d taken to accompany them, but I always felt like a grade-schooler bringing home a prized noodle art project. They’d all but patted me on the head and asked me when I was moving home.
With me gone, they had one less pawn in their never-ending battle to hurt one another. I’d learned long ago that if I showed any upset, it was used as ammunition. One parent accused the other of making me feel bad. Yeah, no more. I was done with that. I was done with relationships. No way was I sinking into the fucked-up world of marriage if I had to live a day like my parents.
I sighed, but quietly, afraid even my exhale would be used as a basis for more arguing.
My father chose that moment to criticize the way my mom cut the carrots. Apparently, she knew he liked them julienned but she’d had the audacity to slice them into chunks.
Looking away, I rolled my eyes. I sat there and munched on my diced carrot, trying to pretend that watching them tear each other apart no longer affected me. I was a grown woman, dammit. It didn’t matter that my parents were unhappy, or that they should have gotten a divorce decades ago.
I tried to keep it from affecting my emotions, but it was hard. Sitting here, I could feel all happiness draining from me. Any eagerness to find a guy of my own just slipping away. I’d felt guilty about leaving Dash and Jackson in the hotel room, but no longer. It had been a fun night. Nothing more.
As my parents continued, I mentally stuck my fingers in my ears. La la la, I can’t hear you. They were like Dementors in the Harry Potter books, sucking the goodness from me.
When the doorbell rang, I sprang from my seat. I took that as my cue to run the hell out of there before my parents upped their game and started throwing silverware instead of barbs.
After opening front door, I froze. The sudden appearance of Jackson and Dash on my doorstep left me reeling. The cold air that blasted me did nothing to cool my heated cheeks—and other parts of me. I wanted to blame the arctic blast on the way my nipples hardened, but I’d be lying. In heavy winter coats, they looked even bigger than I remembered—and I remembered an awful lot about them. From the silky feel of their hair to the way their big cocks moved deep inside me. Their clean male scents filled my nose and I wanted to go on my tiptoes and press my nose against their necks. Breathe them in.
I couldn’t bring myself to worry about how they’d fo
und me or why they’d shown up. As I heard my parents arguing from the kitchen about floral centerpieces for my sister’s wedding reception, I didn’t care. They were here, and they were my out!
Barely pausing to take a breath, I grabbed my winter jacket from the coat rack beside the door and turned to face my parents who’d finally come into the hall. When they saw the men at the door, they stopped talking.
“Uh, I’ve got to go.”
I watched as my mom’s brows pulled together in confusion and my father straightened to his full height, a frown forming. Questions. I was about to be bombarded with questions I couldn’t answer.
Yes, it was Jackson Wray and Dash McPherson. Yes, I didn’t know they’d be stopping by. No, I didn’t know why. Well, I did, but I wasn’t going to tell my parents they’d kept me well occupied while I was stuck in Minneapolis.
Whoever had coined the term the best defense is offense had clearly been raised in a family like mine.
I didn’t even invite them in or introduce them, both of which would have been the polite thing to do. But this was my family and little did Dash and Jackson know I was being polite keeping them outside in the cold and snow. I stepped into my snow boots resting on a rubber mat by the door, not lacing them up and shoved the guys further out onto the freezing porch. They stepped back without a word. Heck, they hadn’t even said hello yet, but I hadn’t really given them a chance. I called out my goodbyes over my shoulder.
“Where are you going?” my mother asked. She still had the knife in her hand and a dishcloth over her shoulder.
“Wow, I forgot to tell you I have a date. You wouldn’t want me to bail on a date with two Bridgewater men, now would you?”
They gaped at me as I tugged the door closed behind me. “Goodnight, love you, see you later!” I called, even though I doubted they heard me.
I turned around to see two startled hotties staring at me. Startled, but amused, unlike my parents.
“Happy to see us?” Jackson drawled, rubbing a gloved hand over his beard. I remembered how that short hair felt against my skin. I clenched my thighs together because the whisker burn had just faded. There.
I couldn’t help it. My grin must have looked outrageously silly as I nodded. “You have no idea.”
But I was happy to see them. Weirded out a bit, maybe, but relieved beyond belief. I could practically feel the tension melting from my shoulders as I slipped my arms through theirs and tugged so the three of us were heading toward the curb—more importantly, far away from the house—like Dorothy with the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. Not that these guys weren’t human—they were as manly as two men could get. But the thought still made me giggle as we drew close to their truck.
With a hand on my elbow, Jackson helped me inside and I slid to the middle so I was firmly nestled between them as they clamored in on either side of me and slammed the doors. The cab was warm and with them pressed against me, I doubted I would be cold even if I hadn’t been wearing my coat.
Dash started the truck, but didn’t put it into gear. They turned to me and it wasn’t until right then that I fully realized I was with these two men, alone…again.
I glanced from one to the other, their dark gazes pinned on me. I could see the stubble on Dash’s jaw, the slight crook in Jackson’s nose from when it had been broken at some point. A hint of guy scent, like soap, mixed with wintergreen.
Shit. This had not been part of the plan. I’d just wanted out of the house and they’d been like a gift from god. Now? Now what was I going to do? I’d said I had a date and now I had to have one. With two hot guys who were incredible in bed. Our chemistry was off the charts and it was possible pheromones were pumping from their bodies stronger than the heater giving off warm air.
I was in trouble here, at least my brain was saying that. So, so much trouble and I wasn’t sure how to get out of it.
Or if I wanted to.
5
DASH
* * *
I saw the moment she tensed up. One minute she’d been carefree, giggling like we were all back in high school and headed off to a party somewhere. Then she grew still and wary, almost the moment the doors of my truck slammed shut.
“So,” Jackson said. “Where to, sweetheart?”
I winced at his easy drawl. Sure, she’d seemed happy enough to see us, but I’d gotten the impression that her excitement hadn’t necessarily been at the sight of us so much as it was the sight of anyone who could take her away. If a pizza delivery man rang the doorbell instead of us, she’d probably have gone off to help him with the rest of his run. She’d fled without even lacing up her boots or zipping her coat. Not even a hello.
Sure enough, she turned from Jackson to me and then looked down at her lap, fidgeting for a moment. Her hair was long and loose, wild and curly over her shoulders. I remembered how it felt, silky and soft and I wanted to touch it again. To get my fingers tangled, trapped. Her green eyes held a hint of wariness I fucking hated.
“Uh…what are you guys doing here?”
“You’re in my truck, Avery,” I replied.
She sighed. “Yeah.” That one word had tons of weight. She seemed so small between us. While she wasn’t a short woman, probably about five-seven, our size difference was obvious.
Jackson and I exchanged a look over her head and the meaning was clear. We had to tread carefully. Our girl was clearly conflicted at our sudden appearance on her doorstep. And while she was in my truck, I wanted her to want to be with us, not because she needed us to escape something bad. We’d protect her if need be—with our lives—but this wasn’t a life or death situation. No, this was just life and it seemed returning to Bridgewater didn’t give Avery a sense of home, especially if she was fleeing hers with anyone who came to the door.
I was the first to respond and I kept my voice even and calm. “We missed you yesterday morning. We’re here because we wanted to make sure you got home okay. While you might not think it after what we did together, we’re gentlemen.”
The stuff we’d done was far from gentlemanly and she’d seemed perfectly fine with that. What woman wanted to fuck all proper-like? Certainly not Avery.
She glanced up at me and I swore I saw a flicker of guilt as she tucked a long brown lock of hair behind her ear. She should have been wearing a hat and mittens, but she’d dashed out too quickly to grab them. Hell, if she’d been in Mexico for a while, I had to wonder if she even had any.
“Oh, yeah, I got home fine. Got on a flight to Missoula. But, uh, thanks for checking.”
I took a calming breath, breathed in the scent of coconuts. Shampoo?
“Why’d you run out on us like that?” I asked, calling her out.
Her head snapped up and her expression filled with alarm. I hadn’t meant to sound accusatory or even territorial. But we deserved to know. If she really had no interest in more than one night, then I wanted to know.
“What he means is—” Jackson cut in, “—we hope we didn’t do anything to scare you off. That you had just as good of time as we did. Did we offend you in some way?”
We had pushed her. A lot. She’d said she’d never been with two guys before and we’d given her quite an experience. The list of things two guys could do instead of one was long and we’d crossed off a lot, including anal play. Unprepared for sex, we hadn’t had lube or even a butt plug. We’d had to improvise with fingers and she certainly hadn’t minded. She’d liked it. At least we’d thought so by the way she’d come.
Surprisingly, her lips tilted up into the sexiest little grin I ever did see. “You didn’t offend me.”
Oh hell. Her voice was low, husky, and sexy as sin. My cock grew hard at the sound of it and I had to clear my throat for fear that my voice would come out as a growl. Her emotions were all over the place, but if we hadn’t offended her, then I could be blunt now. “We made you come. Hard. So many times I lost count.”
She nodded, and I saw her blush, hopefully remembering each and every time.
�
��Why’d you run, baby doll?”
She turned her pretty face up to mine. Her green eyes held heat and fire. “I didn’t run.”
I didn’t bother to argue, just remained quiet. She’d been busted and she knew it.
She sighed and relaxed into the truck’s bench seat. “Okay, maybe I ran.”
Jackson reached out and placed a hand lightly on her knee. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.
“I wasn’t trying to be rude,” she added. Again, she turned her face up to mine, this time with a beseeching look that was impossible to resist. “But it was a one-night fling, you know? I’ve never been good with a morning after and all that goes with it. I mean, one-night means night, not morning.”
I looked to Jackson. He was better at the soft approach and I didn’t trust myself to answer. I gripped the steering wheel too hard as it was. Everything in me wanted to wrap my arms around her, pull her tight and never let go. To let her know we wanted nights and mornings, all of them we could have. But I knew—we both knew—that if we held on too tight now, there was a good chance she’d bolt. We couldn’t expect her to leap into a serious commitment with us based on one night of sex, no matter how great that sex might have been. Or even for the reason she hopped into my truck, and it wasn’t eagerness on her part. No, she was fleeing her house. I was glad she felt we were safe for her to turn to, but we’d been at the right place at the right time.
Jackson squeezed her knee. His voice was gentle as he said, “Who said it had to be just one night?”
Her head snapped up to look at him, then she shot me a wary look. “I, uh…I hope I didn’t give you guys the wrong impression. I’m not looking for anything serious. With my job, I can’t really do relationships and—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted. It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. The last thing we wanted was for her to further convince herself that a committed relationship wasn’t an option. No, we just needed her to give us a chance. Having her sitting between us was a start.
