Anything but Love (Wingmen #3)

by Daisy Prescott

  A few minutes later, the door opens and Cari walks out in her own yoga pants and a fleece jacket over a T-shirt. “Guns? What? Why?”

  “She doesn’t seem very friendly and she wasn’t happy to see me. I want to be prepared to run if she has a gun.”

  She stands frozen by the door to what I presume is her bedroom. “I don’t even know what to do with that kind of thinking. She’s not going to shoot you. Who would do that?”

  “You don’t know the island. People have a code of living here.”

  “That involves shooting people?”

  “If necessary. We protect our own, whether that be people or property. Don’t mess with island folks.”

  She shakes her head, dismissing my warning. “How did I end up here?”

  “You can always go home. No one is asking you to stay.” I remember the reason for showing up here. “Except not right now. Probably better if you come over to my house.”

  “Gee, you make a girl feel special.”

  “Right. Okay.” I rub my hand over the top of my hair. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  “I didn’t agree to go anywhere with you.”

  I exhale, exasperated. “Trust me?”

  “Why?”

  “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Just trust me.”

  “No.”

  She’s making a face that I’m sure is supposed to be fierce, but makes her look like an angry kitten. “Don’t make me scream. Lois and her gun will be down here in a split second.”

  Lois packing heat wouldn’t surprise me. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. “Fine. I don’t know if you have Wi-Fi here, or cell service, but I’ve been named. Gomez outed me as the Hot Ass Guy.”

  Her mouth forms an O but no sound comes out.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I smirk at her. “Now, we can hang out here staring at each other, or you can come with me back to my place where we can come up with a strategy to deal with this mess.”

  “Why can’t we do that here?”

  “Do you have any food? Liquor? Because we’re going to need both.”

  “Good point. Let me grab my shoes.”

  Standing in the driveway, I see the curtains flutter when I glance at the front of the house. I’m sure Lois has been listening with her ear to a heating vent the entire time.

  “Should I take my car?”

  “You can follow me.”

  I wait for Cari to go back inside and get her keys. Lois isn’t very subtle with her peeping from the window. I give her another happy little wave and she stares back at me. She’s probably written down my license plate, make and model. I bet she’s the type who has the sheriff’s non-emergency number on speed dial.

  Cari’s Mini shadows me on the drive down the island. Curiosity gets the better of me and instead of heading straight for my house, I detour past the warehouse.

  I’ve had better ideas in my life. From the road I spot two news vans parked in front and a group of people milling around with cameras. I slow down to make sure no other cars are in the lot, but the vans are blocking the full view.

  Cari honks at me.

  I flip her off from my window. She honks again, drawing the attention from one of the guys with a camera.

  Oh shit.

  I hit the gas before I’m recognized. Seeing inside the truck from fifty plus yards away would require eagle vision, but I’m not taking any chances. I don’t need any stalkers identifying the Bronco. It’s already well known around the island as mine.

  I watch behind Cari’s car all the way home, making sure no one follows us. I don’t see any vans and heave a sigh of relief when I make the turn down our little dirt road.

  Stopping once Cari’s behind me on the driveway, I hop out and grab some signs. In the back I locate a staple gun.

  She rolls down her window. “What are you doing?”

  “Marking my borders.” I show her the sign.

  “Did you randomly have a staple gun in your truck?”

  “Sure. There’s probably some duct tape, rope, a hammer and nails back there. Why?”

  “Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?” Her eyes are as round as her headlights.

  “Ha ha.” Stepping around her car, I walk up to a tree at the edge of the road and staple a sign to the bark. I repeat the process on the other side of the driveway a few trees back. I pause to observe my warnings.

  “You didn’t deny it.” She eyes the road and the darkening woods. “Not very comforting.”

  “I’m not a serial killer.” I attach one more sign. “That should do it.”

  “You think a couple of signs will stop anyone?”

  “No, but it gives me a reason to shoot them if they knock on my door.”

  I leave her with her head hanging out the window and her mouth agape.

  Unless I’m firing a Nerf gun or the marshmallow one that always jams, I won’t be shooting anyone.

  Clearly, Cari doesn’t realize this. I’m not sure what kind of redneck island she thinks she’s on, but it’s fun to tease her.

  INVITING CARI TO my house probably sounds like the worst idea ever, but so far it’s been going okay. We’re sitting on my deck, drinking beer from one of the growlers in the beer fridge. Some people have wine fridges; Carter and I have a beer fridge mostly filled with local brews.

  The sun is setting behind the trees, casting the yard and deck in shadow. Above us the blue sky deepens, but no stars are visible. For spring, it’s a warm evening.

  I’m ninety-nine percent certain she isn’t a vampire. She hasn’t tried to extract all of my blood so far. Win and win.

  “As a kid I thought Clackamas was an evil version of Santa Claus. Somehow I got it into my little kid brain that Clackamas visited the naughty kids to hand out coal. I refused to ride the ferry with the same name.”

  “Maybe you were confusing him with Krampus, from Germany?” She chuckles, not sympathetic to my childhood fears at all.

  “Could be. I blame Carter.”

  “Growing up with an older brother must’ve been fun.”

  “If by fun you mean ‘a tortured existence,’ then yes.”

  “Couldn’t have been that terrible if you still live with him and you’re both pushing thirty.”

  Hailey’s joke about our little house being the Phallus Palace runs through my head.

  Feeling defensive, I shrug. “Makes sense to share rent and split expenses. It’s not like we live with our parents in their basement.”

  “I lived with my parents right after college. Turns out there isn’t a big demand for edgy, artistic photography in Albuquerque.”

  “Is that where you’re from?”

  She nods and gives me a genuine smile. “We’re chatting.”

  “What?”

  “We’re having a normal, getting to know you conversation. I think this might be our first.” Her smile grows.

  “We’ve spoken before.” I scratch at the corner of my bearded jaw.

  She tilts her head like she’s explaining math to a toddler. “We end up arguing after about three minutes.”

  “That’s because you are always flipping me off and glaring at me.”

  “Right. I do that for no reason at all.” She looks away, but I swear she rolls her eyes.

  “I’m a friendly guy. I can’t imagine what about me could constantly annoy you to such a level.” I bump her shoulder with mine. She’s not expecting it and it sends her off balance.

  I grab her arm to save her from face planting and the momentum spins her around so she’s up against my body. Her other hand comes to rest on my pec.

  “I believe this is how we met,” she whispers.

  I want to spin her around, grab her hips, and remind her of the exact moment our lives intersected. Instead, I stare into her wide eyes and lose my words.

  Her hand is warm through my T-shirt. Her lips are parted and she’s breathing shallow. As I stare at her, her tongue licks the corner of her mouth.

  If her hand
were a few inches to the right, she’d be able to feel my heart thudding under my ribcage. Given the proximity, she probably can. I shift my grip on her arm down to her wrist and feel her pulse racing beneath my fingers. Something changes between us.

  We’ve gone from unable to be in the same room together, to snarking at each other, to having a normal conversation. Now we’re alone at my house, staring at each other.

  Who left us unsupervised?

  She tightens her fingers into my chest, balling the fabric. Her nails press into the skin. I want more. The touch burns, but not from pain. It blurs the line between anger and passion. Yes, it’s a little painful, but tell that to my body.

  I lean my head down. I’m still holding her wrist and I bring her arm up to rest on my shoulder, but don’t let go. Our bodies align and press against each other.

  I’m going to kiss her.

  It might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

  No, it’s not that dumb.

  She closes her eyes and leans her head back, silently saying yes. Yes, she wants this, too.

  I lean in, lessening the distance between us and wet my bottom lip.

  Her warm breath fills the space between before and after. Before I can move, her mouth softly brushes mine, barely touching skin against skin.

  Finally, I reciprocate, kissing her, adding more pressure, and then gently sucking her full bottom lip.

  She braces her hands on my biceps. I don’t know if she’s going to push me away or pull me closer. When she responds, I go all in. Pressing myself against her, I invade her mouth with my tongue. Instantly, she responds, sweeping her tongue against mine and taking control of the kiss. I let her while I brush my hands over the curves of her hips and ass, something I’ve wanted to do since the first night we might.

  Her own hands grab and squeeze my butt. I tighten my glutes for her. If the lady wants to fondle the world’s most famous ass, I want to make it good for her.

  A soft moan escapes her mouth. The sound is a spark, a match strike to dry kindling. I’m moving before my brain catches up. I lift her up to the railing and stand between her legs. Her hands move to my hair, my shoulders, my back, tugging my shirt up to touch my skin. One of my hands cups her breast and the other rests on her hip. I sneak my fingers into the back of her pants as she wraps her legs around my hips.

  In this position, there’s no way she can’t feel my erection. With her hands in my hair, pulling almost to the point of pain, she presses against my hard length as she sweeps her tongue back into my mouth.

  My own moan rumbles in my chest as I grind into her. I’m a starving man and she is a banquet. Releasing her hip, I skim my hands under her shirt and over her breasts. They’re rounder and fuller than they look, fitting my hands perfectly.

  As we continue to kiss, the urge for more increases. Groping and making out aren’t enough anymore. Thinking only of getting her naked and being inside of her, I begin sliding up her shirt. Encouraging me, she palms my cock through my shorts.

  Condoms.

  I need a condom.

  I don’t have any on me. Unlike my optimistic, and delusional, high school years, I don’t always have a condom on my person at all times.

  Slowly, I end the kiss, moving my lips to her jaw near her ear. I gently suck on the skin near her hairline. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to go in the house. The question is do I make her wait out here or bring her inside with me?

  My bedroom door has a lock on it.

  “Let’s go inside,” I whisper in her ear. I feel her nod against my cheek.

  Headlights sweep over the yard ahead of the sound of an engine.

  “Shit.” Damn Carter and his coitus interruptus bad timing. Shielding her from the driveway, I remove her hand from my crotch and create a breath of space between us. “My brother’s home.”

  At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, she gives me a gentle shove.

  “Nothing happened,” she whispers, zipping her fleece.

  The mess of her hair, the flush on her cheeks from my beard, and her fingertips pressing against her full lips say otherwise.

  Cari and I just made out on my deck. Out in the open. We were well on our way to fucking each other’s brains out. A few minutes later and Carter might’ve seen my naked ass again in a way no brother ever should.

  What the fuck happened? I mean, what the fuck did I just do? Alone with her and I’m ripping off her clothes about to have sex with her outside. Maybe I am turning into an exhibitionist.

  “Hey . . . Oh, you’re not alone.” Carter stomps up the deck stairs holding a grocery bag.

  I run my hand through my hair and jump away from her. It’s less of a jump and more one giant step without the bounce. I can’t look at her.

  “Did I interrupt something?” Carter’s voice holds accusation beneath the lighthearted tone.

  “No!” She and I both say at the same time.

  “Okay, sure.” Carter shifts a brown grocery bag on his hip to extend his hand. “I’m Carter. You must be Cari.”

  “Why would you assume she’s Cari?” I sit down along a bench on the far side of the deck. It’s as far as I can get from her without standing in the yard or going inside the house. I can still taste her on my lips. The yard might not be far enough. The woods are a better option. I wonder what they’d do if I hopped the railing and ran into the dark woods.

  “I recognize her from—” My glare cuts him off before he can confess we stalked her online. “Erik’s description.”

  “Nice to meet you, Carter.” She shakes his hand, but gives me a quizzical look.

  “I brought food to grill for dinner. Cari, you staying?”

  “No,” I say before she can spit out half a yes.

  With the way Carter stares at me, I feel like I’m standing here naked. Behind his eyes a battle rages. “None of his business” is winning at this point, but it’s still early days in the war for my soul. I think he should be on my side without question or protest. Always.

  However, my brother is easily swayed by a pretty face and a flirtatious smile.

  He leans closer to her head. Two peas in a conspiratorial pod. His whispered words are muffled. I only hear my name and “stubborn ass.”

  Cari keeps her eyes on me while he talks. A smile plays on her lips before pink colors her cheeks and she ducks her head. Are they talking about sex? Or almost sex?

  “Okay,” she whispers to him.

  “Okay what?” I ask, my curiosity and anger getting the better of me. “What are you two plotting?”

  “Listen, baby bro, I love you . . .”

  “But?”

  My older, less mature brother laughs. “Totally set you up to say butt.”

  I glare at him. We’re ten and twelve again. “Ha ha.”

  “Seriously, I just wanted you to say butt.”

  I focus on Cari.

  “It’s true. He asked if I like burgers and said he could get you to say butt.” She raises her hands in innocence. “I swear.”

  “The whole butt thing is getting a little old, don’t you think?”

  “I agree. Maybe just turn the other cheek?” He holds up his hand for a high five. Laughter bubbles out of Cari and she slaps his hand.

  “Laugh it up, Giggles, but you better sleep with one eye open,” I grumble and head inside the house. Their laughter follows me into the kitchen. From the kitchen sink, I can hear their conversation.

  “Poor Erik. The butt of every joke.” Carter howls with loud laughter.

  “I shouldn’t be laughing. It’s all my fault.”

  “You need to stop saying that. My dumbass brother got naked in public. He has only himself to blame.”

  “You said dumbass.”

  “The butt jokes are endless. It’s really a gift that keeps on giving and giving. It’ll never get old.”

  It’s already old and I have a feeling the worst is yet to come.

  I might need to go live on a coffee bean farm in South America until the whole t
hing blows over.

  Honestly, it’s not a bad plan. I could disappear for a while, visit our farmers, and let Carter deal with it all. Maybe even leak a picture of him to the press.

  Or Tom Donnely. Something tells me he’d be more than happy to be famous for his ass.

  I’ll talk to Jonah about taking over the roasting biz for a while. Or I could train one of our baristas. I’m sure they could handle things.

  Knowing I have a potential escape plan from the media makes me feel better.

  Cari giggles outside at something Carter says that I don’t catch.

  If only escaping her and whatever lust-fueled madness she creates in me could be so easy.

  Over burgers Carter grilled and beers I opened, I update him about the media showing up at the warehouse.

  “That explains the white van at the end of the driveway.”

  “What?” I sputter and wipe my mouth on a paper towel.

  “Two guys in a van stopped me when I pulled up. Asked if I had a hot butt.” He breaks into a grin.

  “Asshole.” I toss the paper at him.

  “Do you really think the media is going to do a stakeout? Did you sweep the house for bugs? I heard the FBI is involved because your ass is a matter of national security.”

  Growing up, our favorite movies to watch with our dad were buddy cop stakeouts. “Listen, Hooch, I know I saw vans at work. Bert spotted them on the ferry. You think they left the island after finding everything closed? Why would they give up that easily?”

  “You’re not going to be a lead story. Big accident on the I-5 or closing the Viaduct, and your butt would be bumped.” He snorts.

  Cari watches our banter with an amused expression.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re really freaked out.”

  “Maybe in San Diego, you’re used to big media showing up all the time, but on Whidbey, we’re private and don’t like the attention.”

  “I’m beginning to understand the mentality, but you should use the attention for something you want.”

  “Mom said the same thing. Right before she suggested I pose naked for money.”

  Carter does an epic spit-take, spraying an arc of beer over the table.