Paige in Progress (Reluctant Hearts #3)

by Brighton Walsh

  I try not to show any kind of reaction at the mention of Paige’s name, and since Jase’s eyes don’t narrow, apparently I’m successful. I just pray no one glances south, because the mere sound of her name has my dick twitching in my jeans, memories of what happened all those months ago at the forefront of my mind. Clearing my throat, I say, “Not much. Just got home a while ago.”

  Mom cuts in, “He’s been working so hard at the shop. There before we get in and stays well after we leave. The boy never even takes a lunch break, just eating what I packed him in the office.” Her admonishment is tinged with pride, and I can’t help the warmth that spreads through my chest when I hear it. Even though my parents never forced me to come back and help, it still feels a little like I didn’t have much choice. If I didn’t come, who was going to?

  “Well, you boys don’t want to hang out here all night with us old people,” she says. “Why don’t you head back to Adam’s room, and I’ll bring in some snacks for you.”

  Jase grins, and I should, too. On any other day, it would be a nice, normal offer. Today, however, after Mom flew into my bedroom this morning to set out my newly ironed clothes for me, and after I ate a bagged lunch consisting of a ham and cheese sandwich—sans crust because I didn’t like them when I was a kid—and apple slices, and after I found my supply of boxer briefs freshly washed and folded on my bed when I got home, it grates on my goddamn nerves. I have to take a few deep breaths to stop myself from snapping, because I don’t snap. I don’t lose my temper in general. It takes a lot to piss me off, to irritate me even a little, but I’m there, and I have been since day-fucking-two in the Reid house.

  Jase doesn’t say anything until we’re behind the closed door of my bedroom. He goes to the gaming rocker set up in front of the TV, sprawling in it as he grabs a baseball and tosses it in the air. “What’s on the menu tonight for snacks? Is it pizza rolls? Please, sweet sparkling Jesus, tell me it’s pizza rolls.”

  I grab the other chair and move it over next to him, then pull out a game controller for myself and toss the other to him, not looking to see where it flies as I sit down.

  “The fuck, man?” He fumbles the baseball trying to catch the controller.

  I flip through my games, finding one where I can get out the most aggression. “Since you’re so excited about the food, maybe you should come live here, and I’ll move in with Tess. If you made a list, I bet Mom would make you whatever you wanted.”

  “Aw, is the honeymoon over? I sense a little hostility in your tone. It hasn’t even been a week yet.”

  Before I can answer him, a knock sounds at the door. “Honey? I’ve got some snacks for you boys.”

  Jase looks at me, then a shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “Come on in, Mom! I’m freakin’ famished.”

  She smiles as she opens the door and carries in a tray, setting it down between us.

  Just like in high school.

  “Pizza rolls are in the oven. I’ll bring them in as soon as they’re done, but I thought you could use a little something to tide you over until then.”

  “Have I told you I love you today, Judy?” Jase grabs a chip from the bowl and scoops up some of my mom’s homemade salsa with it.

  Mom beams, her cheeks turning pink at the same time my dad yells down the hall, “Quit hitting on my wife, Jason!”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He winks at my mom—the same mom he’s called Mom since we became friends more than fifteen years ago—and takes another bite. “Outstanding as always, Mom,” he says around a mouthful of food.

  She waves off his compliment and heads out of my room. “I’ll bring in the pizza rolls when they’re done. You boys have fun.”

  As soon as the door snicks shut, I blow out a breath and sink back into my chair, queuing up the game. Maybe it’ll do my mood some good to blow shit up since Jase isn’t doing it—not with that shit-eating grin on his face as he shovels chips in his mouth.

  “What do you have to be so happy about?” I ask. “You’re here with me which means you’re not getting laid tonight.”

  His grin gets larger, if possible. “Already got laid, man. Twice.”

  “Bragger.”

  He shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, not me. And why the hell wouldn’t I be smiling? I have homemade salsa, homemade guac, pizza rolls on their way, and if my nose is not mistaken, I do believe there are some cookies out there with my name on them.”

  “You should definitely just move in. Trade places with me. You’re a lot happier about this than I am.”

  “As much as I love your mom’s cooking, I love Tess more. Can’t do it. I’ll just come here and intrude weekly…okay, daily.” He scoops some guacamole on a chip. “But, seriously, I don’t get why you’re not thrilled with this situation.”

  “You wanna know why?” I blow out a deep breath and lean back on the rocker. “This morning, she barged in here to drop off the clothes she picked out for me to wear to the shop today. After she’d ironed them.”

  “Still not seeing the problem. So she picked out your clothes.” He shrugs. “At least she ironed them. I’d kill for Tessa to iron my shit for me. She tells me to fuck off.”

  “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be bad if your girlfriend caught you rubbing one out. My mom walking in on me doing it?” I shudder all over again, reliving the mortification I felt and the same mortification I saw spread across her face when she realized what I was doing.

  He stares at me for a minute, slack-jawed, then he barks out a laugh and continues until he starts choking on a chip. Serves him right.

  “It’s not funny, assbag.” I punch his shoulder. Hard. “I can’t even jack off, for fuck’s sake. What kind of life is that for a twenty-five-year-old guy? I don’t care how many apple pies she bakes. A man needs his space.”

  Jase gets himself under control and shakes his head at me. “You only have yourself to blame. You should’ve done that shit in the shower like any self-respecting man. Jesus.”

  I don’t say anything because he’s right. And normally I would have, especially being back home. What I don’t tell him, though, is that I woke up with wood to rival an oak tree, dreams so fresh in my mind, I couldn’t do anything but grip my cock and stroke. And the worst part was that the dreams were so vivid because they weren’t dreams at all, but a replaying of events that already happened. Waking up did nothing to dispel the image that was playing on a loop in my mind—Paige spread out on her dining room table, legs parted for me and back arched as I licked her to orgasm. And even though it wasn’t happening right then, hadn’t happened for months, I could practically taste her pussy, just like I did that night in December.

  “Seriously, though, it sounds like you just need to get out more. Maybe you’re working too much,” Jase says, interrupting my thoughts. Thank fuck, because the last thing I need to be doing is getting wood while sitting next to my best friend. “Have you found anything at the shop yet?”

  I’ve been back for a few days, each one spent at my parents’ shop, Reid Sporting Goods, trying to find where it all went wrong for them, and thus the reason I took a hiatus from my life and showed up in Michigan, more than a thousand miles from home. Though all went wrong isn’t quite right, considering the ups and downs the shop has faced every year since I could remember. It’s worse now than it’s ever been, though. So much so, bankruptcy is knocking on my parents’ door. No way for me to ignore that and stay in the stable bubble I created for myself in Denver.

  Each day at the store has been about as productive as shoveling during a blizzard. The books are a mess, receipts in boxes and stacks and piles here and there, and it’s going to take me a hell of a lot longer than a few days to get it sorted out. But if the plethora of IOUs I found are anything to go by, I have a pretty damn good idea of why the shop is nearly in the red for the first time since their first three years in business. My parents are too goddamn nice.

  I shake my head. “Nothing concrete, but I have a few ideas of why t
hey aren’t pulling in as much money.” Or any money, really. But having spent every day and night worrying about it, I don’t want to talk about it now. “But, yeah, I could use a night out. Cade up for something?”

  “Actually, Tess mentioned the six of us getting together. Paige just got this internship she’s been salivating over. Last step before she gets her master’s.” He scoops up some more salsa. “Speaking of Paige, what’d you do to her that night I asked you to drive her home after Christmas?”

  I’m pretty sure the answer he’s looking for isn’t fuck her in every room of her apartment, so instead I just shrug. “Nothing, why?”

  “Because Tessa’s under the impression that Paige can’t stand you.” To anyone else, it might seem like he’s just looking at me while having a conversation, but we’ve been friends nearly all our lives, and I know he’s being anything but indifferent right now. His eyes aren’t narrowed, but he’s studying me just the same.

  I work hard to school my features into disinterest, making sure the shock doesn’t show on my face. Shock at the fact that Paige would think of me in any way but happily. I should be her favorite person in the world, considering I got her off five times that night—not that I was counting.

  Granted, she was adamant that what we had that night was a one-time deal. Or a three-times-in-one-night deal, anyway. Maybe she’s pissed that I’m back here, even if temporarily. Maybe she’s pissed that I never called or texted her, even though she specifically told me not to and never gave me her number. Maybe she’s pissed that I never said anything about it to the guys, even though that was one of her stipulations, too.

  At the time, that was fine with me. I was stressed from dealing with all the shit with my parents, the burden of helping them falling to my shoulders since my older sister has her own family to worry about several states away, and I needed an outlet. One-night stands aren’t my usual M.O. In fact, Paige was my first and only. But, Jesus. If all of them are as amazing as that night was with Paige, I need to rethink my stance.

  I have a feeling, though, it isn’t one-night stands that are so great.

  It’s her.

  And I’m damn well going to figure out why she’s got a problem with me and get that shit settled, because I’m not going to be satisfied until I get another taste of her.

  “You know anything about that?” Jase asks after my too-long silence.

  I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine for why she’s got a problem with me. But we can find out when we all go out. Set it up and let me know.”

  THREE

  paige

  Why does he have to look so good? I know five months isn’t a long time, but it’s long enough that I hoped maybe he’d have developed a bit of a gut, started getting a receding hairline or going prematurely gray, perhaps. But no. His hair is dark—not a strand of silver in it—and just as thick and full as it was when I gripped it while he was stationed between my legs. And a gut? Hah. He’s all solid muscle, the breadth of his shoulders and the planes of his chest filling out that red Henley like no one’s business. And I’m only a little ashamed to admit I glimpsed his ass in those dark, low-slung jeans when he went up to the bar in the far corner of the pub when we first got here. Bitable, just like I remember. And I can’t, for the life of me, remember why I didn’t bite it when we slept together. Because an ass like that deserves to have teeth marks on it.

  Since the only time I’ve ever spent with him was while he was between my thighs, our communication restricted to grunts and dirty talk, I thought—prayed, really—that maybe I’d find him obnoxious or annoying. Irritating or frustrating. And while I’m both irritated and frustrated, it has nothing to do with his personality and everything to do with his presence.

  Because all I can think about is shoving these plates and beer bottles and martini glasses out of the way, crawling to the other end of the table, and sitting in his lap so I can grind on him until we both come. Never mind the four other people here with us.

  And the way he keeps looking at me. God. His face gives nothing away, his expression impassive. But his eyes. Those crystal blue eyes several shades lighter than my own, noticeable even in the dim light of the pub, stay focused on me throughout the night. Even when I’m not looking at him, I can feel his gaze on me. It’s like he’s trying to undress me with that alone.

  The worst part is, I’m pretty sure I’d let him.

  Okay, there’s no pretty sure about it.

  Someone says something, and it isn’t until Tessa elbows me in the ribs that I realize it was apparently directed at me. I snap my gaze up from my food—the food I’ve been staring at to avoid looking at Mr. Hot Pants. “Huh? What?”

  Tessa’s brother, Cade, laughs across from me, his arm slung around the back of his girlfriend Winter’s chair. “I asked when you start the internship.”

  If there’s one thing that can get my mind off Adam and his delicious abs and rock-hard chest and delectable cock, it’s my coveted internship. I smile my first authentic one all night. “Monday. It’ll probably be a lot of filling out paperwork and shit like that, but I’m hoping they’ll let me get into the thick of things before too long. Tanner says they don’t usually, but I’m crossing my fingers that with his pull and my knowledge, they’ll let me get a little more involved than they’ve done in the past.”

  “That’s awesome.” Cade nods, smiling at me before taking a drink from his beer.

  He and Winter have only been back from their relocation to Chicago for a few weeks, and I’m about to ask him how the restaurant is doing, how he likes being head chef, when I’m interrupted before I can get a word out.

  “Who’s Tanner?” Adam asks. By some miracle, we’re seated on opposite ends and across the table from each other. Probably Tessa wanting to keep everything mellow tonight, thinking I hate his guts.

  I look at him, and, oh boy, that’s a mistake. Especially when I replay how he sounded when he asked who Tanner was. It’s not the first time I’ve heard his voice tonight, but there’s a note to it now I haven’t heard before. No, that’s a lie. I’ve heard it before. Just never in mixed company. It’s one that speaks of possession—like even the mere mention of another guy’s name in the same airspace as mine is unacceptable—and if there’s one thing I don’t stand for, it’s guys treating me as a possession.

  So then why are my panties so fucking wet?

  I try to swallow and impart some moisture into my too-dry mouth, but nothing helps. I don’t dare even attempt to croak out an answer, too afraid it’ll sound a lot less like, “He’s my brother,” and a lot more like, “Fuck me now.”

  Finally, Tessa takes pity on me and steps in. “Tanner’s one of her older brothers. He’s a cop.”

  That’s all she says, but she glances at me, her eyebrows lifted in a silent question. A, “What the hell is going on?” kind of question. A question I am definitely not answering tonight. Or ever.

  Conversation starts up again around the table, Jase, Cade, Tessa, and Winter all diving into talk of the restaurant, while Adam and I have a stare-off. To everyone else, I’m sure he looks the same, but I notice his shoulders relax the tiniest bit and the tension around his mouth dissipates after those brief words from Tessa. And as much as I shouldn’t be happy about this, I can’t help the satisfaction that sweeps through me. He wants me just as much as I want him.

  Except him not wanting me would be a lot easier on both of us, because then I wouldn’t have any problem keeping my distance. And I need to. Because Adam has Relationship Material written all over him, and the only relationship I’m interested in is the one I have with my vibrator.

  I knew the night we slept together he wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy. And even if he didn’t give off that vibe, Cade, Jase, and Tessa have all said enough over the years that I’ve assumed as much. The guys had all graduated from high school by the time my family moved here when I was a junior, so I never spent much time with Adam since he went to college in Colorado. He came home on breaks, I
assumed, but we never saw each other in more than passing. Never long enough for me to learn I wanted to ride him like a pony. Oh, no. That was reserved for the one night months ago I was off my game, having had too many appletinis in an effort to help Tessa forget Jason’s douche-like behavior—best friend that I am.

  That night, Adam drove me home at Jason’s request, walked me to my door, and then instead of thanking him and telling him good night, I was just tipsy enough to ask him if he wanted to come inside. Even knowing his relationship stance. Even knowing how close he was to my closest friends. Even knowing how it could potentially blow up in my face.

  But it doesn’t have to blow up in my face. I can totally handle this. He isn’t going to be here forever—only as long as it takes him to get his parents’ business back on track. I can wait it out.

  I’ll just stock up on batteries.

  “—walked in on him choking the chicken the other morning,” Jason says through a guffaw.

  As laughs erupt around the table, Adam scowls. “Thanks, man.”

  My head snaps up again, zeroing in on the conversation that managed to go on around me once more. I look between Jason and Adam, a grin spread over the former’s face. Adam lifts his eyes to me and notices me staring and stares right back. Then he quirks a brow as if to say, “Picturing it?”

  And yes, yes, I am.

  My entire body ignites, and if my panties were wet before, there’s a fucking tsunami going on in there now, because all I can see is Adam with his thick fingers wrapped around his even thicker cock, slowly stroking it up and down while he stares at me just like he is now.

  Breathing shallowly, I shift in my seat and take a deep pull from my vodka cranberry, avoiding his gaze. Thank God for the low lighting in this place, because my face is absolutely on fire.

  “I told him to do it in the shower like every other guy,” Jason says over the laughter still rolling through everyone at the table, and I choke on my drink, because now I’m picturing him in the shower, and that’s not any better. Thinking of the water sluicing down his chest and the ridges of his abdomen as he grips his length…