Crazy: Gibson Boys Book #4

by Locke, Adriana

  When his hands grab my hips, I know I’ve got him just where I want him. “How do you feel about the shower?”

  I tug him toward his room. “Better get me dirty first.”

  “We’ll be getting dirty all right.” Lifting me, he puts me over his shoulder and smacks my ass. “I wasn’t hungry for food anyway.”

  “What are you hungry for then?”

  “I’m famished. For you.”

  Twenty-One

  Peck

  “Peck Ward, you have some explaining to do.” Nana brandishes a wooden spoon my way. “Why wasn’t your butt in a church pew this morning, young man?”

  “Let me get in the house first. Geez,” I say, closing the door behind me.

  Machlan and Lance stand at the island, clearly enjoying their position as the good grandsons. That doesn’t happen often with either of them.

  “Oh, leave him alone,” Lance says, popping a cashew in his mouth. “I think he was getting a little last night.”

  “Hey, Lance. Shut the fuck up,” I say.

  “Really with that language on the Sabbath?” Nana asks.

  “Sorry.”

  Lance laughs. “Getting laid brings out the feistiness in ya. I like it.”

  “She’d make you feisty too,” Machlan teases. “Peck’s got himself a hottie.”

  “And it’s not Molly. Hey, that rhymed,” Lance says.

  I have a half a notion to turn around and walk out. I’ve got enough shit on my mind besides listening to these two idiots tease me all day.

  Was I getting a little, as Lance so eloquently put it? Yes. Does Molly need to be included in this conversation? No. And is any of this their business? Absolutely not.

  But they’re … them, so they’ll make it their business.

  Assholes.

  Nana turns back to the stove. “Well, if Peck was entertaining a lady last night”—she pauses and looks at Lance as if to make a point—“and that lady was Dylan, then he gets a pass.”

  “I never got a pass,” Lance points out.

  “Because you would’ve needed a pass every other week,” Nana tells him. “Peck is a good boy. He shows up for Jesus every week without fail.” She sets the spoon down and looks at me. “So were you with Dylan last night?”

  Machlan and Lance burst into laughter as my jaw drops. I stare at my little grandma as she waits patiently for me to tell her who I was sleeping with.

  “Nana … no,” I say. My response only makes my cousins laugh louder. “We really don’t need to discuss this.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it. I know the mechanics of having sex, Peck,” she says.

  I think Machlan is going to piss himself.

  “All I’m asking is if you were having sex with Dylan,” she says calmly.

  My hands go in the air as I walk in a circle. “I have no idea what happened to this family. It’s like y’all went off and lost your damn minds.”

  “Couple of ’em in here didn’t have any minds to start with,” Walker says, shutting the door behind him. He looks around the room. “What are we laughing about?”

  Lance points at Nana. “She just told Peck she wants to know who he was fucki—screwing last night.”

  Nana’s hands go on her hips. “I did no such thing. Not with those words, anyway.”

  “I can tell you that,” Walker says, knocking me off-balance with his shoulder as he walks by. “He’s been worthless since she got to town.”

  “Fucker,” I say, ignoring Nana’s gasp. “I have not.”

  He picks up a handful of cashews and pops them in his mouth. He’s completely nonplussed.

  “I hate you all,” I tell them. “Except you, Nana. I love you.”

  She raises a brow and goes back to the stove. The oven door is opened, and the smell of cornbread fills the kitchen.

  I take a seat next to Lance. He and Machlan argue about lottery odds while Walker kisses Nana on the cheek.

  “I was going to fry some potatoes too, but I’m just too tired,” she says. “Cooking takes a toll on me these days.”

  “We keep telling you to stop it,” Machlan says. “Let the girls cook for you.”

  “Or for us,” Lance says.

  Nana shoves that idea away with the back of her hand. “Don’t be silly. I just need to go a little slower than before. I’ll get my strength back up. I just need some time.”

  “Sienna would’ve been here to help, but she had to fly to Los Angeles yesterday over some contract for her company. She got a deal to design for a place that does evening gowns or something.”

  “Yeah,” Lance says. “Mariah would’ve been here too but volunteered to make a bunch of cakes and stuff for the nursing home in town. They were having some birthday month party thing,” he says, unsure. “She got Hadley to help her.

  Walker looks at me. “Where’s Dylan?”

  “You too?” I ask, raising a brow.

  He grins.

  “Look, you guys. Dylan and I are just …”

  My voice trails off because I don’t know what we’re doing now. I suppose the accurate term would be sleeping together, but that doesn’t feel quite right. That feels … careless. Replaceable. Those aren’t two words I care to place on whatever last night was.

  It was a good night of fucking. I know that. I’ll probably go home today, and she’ll act like nothing happened. But as I lay there in the early morning hours with her wrapped around me, her hair in my face and arms tucked around me, it felt like something happened beyond a few amazing orgasms.

  It felt like … I wanted to do it again. Not just the fucking, but the rest of it too. And that’s worrisome.

  “You and Dylan are engaging in adult activity.” Lance grins. “See, Nana? I said that in a clean, politically correct way.”

  “Good boy,” she says.

  “Right,” I say, uncomfortable with that description too. “But it’s not like you should expect her here on Sunday afternoons or give her hell when you see her. Okay?”

  Machlan plucks out a couple of cashews. “We’d never do such a thing.”

  “Right,” I say again as the door behind me opens again.

  We all look to see Vincent and Sawyer walk in.

  My nephew is a miniature version of his father. He has dark blond hair, crystal-clear blue eyes, and a hefty dose of freckles across the bridge of his nose like Vincent and I used to have when we were younger.

  “Hey, Uncle P,” he says, leaning against me as I pull him into a one-armed hug.

  “Hey, buddy.”

  I look down at him and smile.

  I’ve never really understood the feeling I get when I’m around Sawyer. I don’t get to spend enough time with him to know his favorite foods or colors or what he likes to do besides fish. But I do know that if the kid called me at two in the morning for anything, I’d be there. I know I wouldn’t question his bail money if he grows up and does something harebrained like his dad and I did, and if anything ever happened to my brother, I’d take this kid in a heartbeat.

  A fuzzy feeling fills my chest as I think for a split second what it might be like to have a Sawyer of my own. To have children and a wife that the rest of my family could ask about and want to see. To have a little blond-headed, maybe green-eyed kid running around, asking me to go fishing too.

  I shake my head.

  Too fast. Way too fast, Peck.

  Nana dabs her eyes with the towel on her shoulder.

  “Knock that shit off,” Walker says, pulling her into his side.

  “I’m just so happy,” she says. “There are no words to explain the love you have for your grandchildren. I loved your father,” she says, looking up at Walker, “and your mother,” she says, looking at Vincent and me. “But you kids are just something special.”

  “Well, we think you’re something special,” Sawyer says.

  I pat his back. He looks up at me and smiles.

  “You wanna tell her?” Vincent looks down at his son.

  Sawyer stands ta
ll. “Nana, guess what?”

  “I don’t know. What?”

  “Dad and I were talking today. And we made a decision.” He rubs his bottom lip with the side of his finger, a habit of his father’s.

  Vincent watches Sawyer proudly. I see why. This little dude has the confidence of a kid twice his age, and he’s definitely got Vincent’s swagger.

  Vincent is definitely fucked.

  “Well,” Machlan prods. “What’s happening?”

  “We figure maybe we’ll stick around.” Sawyer looks at his dad and smiles. “We kind of like it here.”

  Nana’s eyes fill with tears again. Her arms spread open. “Come here and give your Great Nana a hug.”

  Sawyer struts across the kitchen and falls into her arms. She kisses his head, wiping her eyes with her towel.

  “Yeah,” Vincent says. “I figure I’ve done a thorough search of the counties down there for a stepmom for Sawyer. I need some new options.”

  Nana fires him a look. “Don’t talk that way in front of him.”

  “Why?” Sawyer looks up at her. “I need a stepmom. The right stepmom,” he insists. “This kid I go to school with—his name is Pete. Well, Pete’s dad got remarried in a hurry, and his stepmom is a nightmare. So if Dad needs to take his time in picking one, I’m okay with that.”

  Nana looks relieved. “That’s right, sweetheart. Your dad is just being cautious.”

  Sawyer walks toward me with a mischievous look on his face. “I’m not dumb,” he whispers when he gets to me.

  “You little shit,” I whisper back.

  He laughs. “Can I go outside and check out the treehouse before we eat?”

  Walker nods. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

  “But dinner is ready,” Nana says.

  Machlan walks around the island. He motions for me to get up. I head that way, rolling up my shirtsleeves.

  “Peck and I will help you fry some potatoes,” Machlan says.

  “You boys don’t have to do that.”

  “Nah, we do,” I say.

  “You boys are too good to me.” She reaches up and kisses my cheek. “But I do wish you had brought Dylan.”

  “Nana …”

  She swipes her towel at me. “She’s a nice girl. And it’s clear she’s smitten with you.”

  “Oh, she is not.”

  My stomach clenches. I open the refrigerator and pretend to look for something just so my cousins don’t see my face.

  Dylan isn’t smitten with me. Is she? What does smitten even mean, anyway?

  Her face pops up in my memories—her head thrown back, mouth forming a sexy little ‘o’ as she dropped all her reservations and gave herself to me.

  As if she can read my mind, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and look at the screen.

  Dylan: I’m heading out with Navie for a while today. I made some lunch. Leftovers in fridge if you want some although I’m sure you won’t want any given you’re at Nana’s. Say hi from me.

  I close the door and look up at my family. They’re laughing as Machlan peels a bag of potatoes and Vincent tells Lance about some encounter he had with a woman on a boat. Walker sips a glass of tea, leaning against the cabinets, taking it all in. The only thing missing from this scene is Dylan.

  I wish she were here.

  He catches my eye. The joking from earlier has subsided and in its place is a knowing look. It wasn’t that long ago that Walker was in my place and trying to decide how to deal with things with Sienna. I wasn’t sure he’d figure it out. But he did.

  Maybe there’s hope for me.

  For us.

  Twenty-Two

  Dylan

  Navie gasps.

  I knew she would. She has some kind of Spidey sense about things like this … things that have to do with sex or things that include me being embarrassed.

  This one is a double or nothing.

  “Dylan,” she squeals as I come through the door.

  “I’m not even fully in your house yet, and you’re already squealing.”

  “You’re glowing,” she says.

  “I’m not pregnant, Navie.”

  “No. Maybe not. But if I’m guessing, I’m going to say that you’ve been partaking in activities that could result in a little baby Ward.”

  I don’t mean to laugh, but I do. “That’s not funny,” I say, despite the chuckle.

  She plops down on her sofa. She’s downright smug.

  I sit in the chair and try to maneuver the conversation to other things … before we come back to my glow. There’s no doubt we’ll discuss it. And I kind of want to. I need a sounding board.

  “That new movie I was telling you about—the one with the strippers—it’s playing in Merom. I saw it on the sign yesterday,” I say.

  “Mhmm.”

  Redirection might be harder than I thought.

  I just need a minute to get my bearings. My plan was to figure things out in my head before seeing Navie, but that proved to be difficult—if not impossible.

  “Want to get some dessert?” I ask. “I’ve been wanting to check out Carlson’s Bakery.”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Navie …”

  She laughs. “What I want is for you to tell me what put that look on your face. You want to do that in a movie theater? Cool. At Carlson’s over a Reuben sandwich? Awesome. I don’t care. Pick whatever venue you want, but we’re discussing this.”

  Plucking my favorite blue pillow from beside Navie, I tuck it next to me on the chair. Might as well get comfortable. This may take a while.

  “Okay. Where do I start?” I ask.

  “Just answer this first, and then you can go wherever you want with it: is he as amazing in bed as I imagine?”

  My skin heats as I recall Peck’s firm yet gentle touches. My lips part as memories of him taking control with his mouth flood me. My thighs squeeze as I remember what it’s like to have his head, his hands, his cock between them.

  Dear lord. I might never be okay again.

  “That’s a yes,” she chirps. “I knew it. I can tell.”

  “Well, it’s not like it was hard to guess correctly. You’ve seen the man move.”

  “And you’ve felt it.” She scoots around in her seat. “So give me the details. Are you guys a thing now?”

  I force a smile to hide my uncertainty. Truth be told, I know we aren’t a thing. I’m not messed up about that. But I don’t know what we are.

  Friends? Friends with benefits? Lovers? Two people who made a mistake?

  When we curled up together and fell asleep moments before dawn, I had one opinion. And when I woke up alone this morning with a note that he went to Nana’s, I had another.

  It wasn’t as if I expected anything to change because we’d been intimate. But it does make me feel a little off-balance that he left me in his bed when I’d met Nana before.

  “I’m overthinking everything,” I tell Navie.

  “Of course you are. I’m here to help break all that down.”

  I bite a fingernail, mulling everything over.

  “Dylan. Stop it.”

  “I just …” I drop my hand. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “But could you wrap your hand around it?”

  I throw the pillow at her.

  Laughing, she hands it back to me. “What’s the problem? Honestly. What are you all hung up about?”

  “It’s like … now what? He’s great. We’ve slept together. I freaking live there. There’s no way, no way, Navie, this can end well.”

  “And why the hell not?”

  I spring to my feet and walk around the little room. Days ago, my stuff was stacked in the corner of this space. Days ago, I was waiting to strike out on my own. Days ago, I had a clear picture of what the next phase of my life would look like, but now I don’t freaking know.

  “Look,” I say, stopping next to the television. “Peck was gone when I got up.”

  She
thinks. “He goes to church every week. I bet he didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “Maybe. But the point is, I haven’t had time to talk to him, to even see him, since about five minutes after he pulled his cock out of me. And by that, I mean I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

  “Probably that you looked like an angel in his bed and he wanted to leave with that imagery,” she offers, speaking slowly. “Like you said, you’re overthinking. Breathe. Relax. Go make yourself some tea.”

  I shake my head. “If I go back and things are weird, do you know how awkward that will be?”

  “Pretty damn awkward.” She gets to her feet. “But I highly doubt that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “Fine. What if I go back and he’s like, ‘You are the love of my life’?”

  She laughs. “Also highly doubt that’s what’s gonna happen.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I bury my head in my hands. “I just feel like this happened so naturally and so fast that I’ve lost all perspective.” I look up at her. “A few days ago, he was professing his love for Molly, according to you.”

  “He was lying,” she scoffs. “You’ve given him a taste of the real thing. He probably doesn’t even remember who she is.”

  I roll my eyes but give her a smile.

  This is why Navie is my best friend. She knows what to say and always has the utmost confidence in me. I love her.

  I sit back down again. My feet curl up beneath me as I try to settle my thoughts into a more manageable stream.

  “Okay. Here’s the thing,” I say slowly. “I did what I always do—I jumped in too fast. I threw caution to the wind and—”

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “No, there’s not. Except for the fact that now I have to deal with the consequences.” I frown. “Peck seems like a really good idea. A damn good one. But … am I prepared to deal with a man right now? One who may or may not have an unrequited love for a very specific woman?”

  Navie holds up a finger, heading toward the kitchen. It gives me a small moment to consider things about Molly.