Leveled

by Cathryn Fox

  I stay under the spray longer, using up all the hot water until it turns colder. A little smile of satisfaction curls my lips. Jared needs a shower too. It will be a cold one. Maybe that will help him cool down and stop eye fucking Kylee. He’s not the man for her.

  Neither am I.

  I pull a towel out from the cabinet, knot it around my waist, and pick my clothes up off the floor. My fingers tighten around the doorknob and I give myself a quick lecture to keep my shit together, then pull the door open. When I find a very surprised, very sexy Kylee on the other side, my cock swells, despite having just jacked off in the shower.

  What the fuck?

  Her gaze slowly rolls over me, and her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. Damn, that shade of pink is fast becoming my favorite color, and it makes me want to explore the rest of her body in search of more pink sweetness.

  “We need to stop meeting like this,” she says, her voice breathless.

  “I guess we’re even now.”

  “Not quite.”

  My towel is tenting but it’s too late to conceal my erection. Nope, it’s right out there in the world for all to see what Kylee Jensen does to me. “No?”

  “You saw me naked.”

  Son of a bitch. Walk away dude. Don’t let this go any farther.

  I brace one arm on the doorjamb above my head. “You want to see me naked, Kylee?” I taste her name on my tongue, savor it, wonder how it will sound when I’m coming inside her. My cock grows another inch.

  Dark lashes flash over blue eyes. “I never said that.”

  “So that’s a no?”

  She goes quiet for a moment, her chest rising and falling. The low neckline of her sundress showcases her cleavage, and it takes everything in me to keep my eyes from straying. My hand grips the dirty clothes harder, anything to keep it occupied.

  “I never said that either,” she says, her voice so low I have to strain to hear it.

  Despite my best interests, I step in to her until our bodies are touching, my cock pressed against her stomach, letting her know the effect she has on me. Stupid move on my part, for sure. I slide my hand around her neck, under her long hair, and splay my fingers as I wet my parched lips. This girl is looking for trouble, and if I don’t get my shit together, she’s soon going to find it.

  “What are you doing, Kylee?”

  I hear a noise on the steps and let her go. She falters slightly as my brother Tyler comes racing up the stairs and into the hall. “Jared is showering downstairs,” she says, pulling herself together in Ty’s presence so quickly it impresses me. “So Gram told me to come up here and get washed up for dinner. I guess she thought you were done with your shower.”

  “I’m done.” I step around her and wave my hand for her to enter.

  “Thanks,” she says, and disappears inside.

  “What’s up bro,” Ty says, breezing past me to go to his room.

  “Nothing.”

  He spins. “Whoa, what the fuck is wrong with you, man?”

  “Not a goddamn thing.” I grumble and step into my room, slamming the door shut as sexual frustration builds inside me. I will not, under any circumstances, put my hands on her again. One touch of her body and I was ready to forget that pampered women like her, ones seeking danger from the bad boy on the wrong side of the tracks, are nothing but trouble for me.

  I pull on a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt and meet the family downstairs. By the time I enter the kitchen, all four of my brothers and three cousins are there, and it makes me happy to see Gram so thrilled to be cooking for the army known as the Owens boys. This old homestead must have been lonely for her when we all took off to find our own paths in life. It’s crazy to think it took Dad’s death last year to bring us all back together again. He was a hard-ass son of a bitch, but I sure do miss the guy. He hated that I was a dreamer, and I thought he was going to beat the living shit out of me after I was charged with rape. I hated that he didn’t believe me, or believe in me, or even care that I had aspirations to be a tattoo artist. Only an idiot would put ink under their skin. That hurt like a son of a bitch, but it’s a life lesson I’ll never forget. Christ, he’d probably roll over in his grave if he knew I was opening my own shop here in Blue Bay. He never supported anything I did.

  Pushing those dark thoughts to the recess of my mind where they belong, I grab a big bowl of mashed potatoes and set it on the long oaken table in the dining room. Gram and Kylee come in behind me and add the pot roast, carrots, turnips, and parsnips. There is enough food to feed an army and then some.

  “Where should I sit?” Kylee asks.

  “Right here,” Jared says, tapping the seat beside him. My fucking seat. The bastard is messing with me. Then again, how could he know how much I want Kylee Jensen all to myself?

  “Good idea, Jared,” Gram says, and I turn to her.

  “You can sit next to me, sweet boy,” she says.

  Everyone files in and we all take our seats. Soon enough the talk turns to work, and I try to ignore Kylee across from me, try to ignore my swelling cock as she slides her fork into her mouth and licks her lips in delight. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to grab her, take her to my room, and force her to her knees so I can put my cock in that lush mouth of hers.

  “Isn’t that right, Jamie?”

  “What?” I ask, looking up from the mashed potatoes that I’ve been making railroads in with my fork.

  “The composite for Kylee’s deck is supposed to arrive tomorrow, right?” Sean repeats.

  “Yeah.”

  “It shouldn’t be too much work to tear the old deck down. I have a bin set to arrive tomorrow for the debris,” Sean explains.

  Why the hell did he give the job to me?

  “You need any help with that job?” Jared asks as he smiles at Kylee. “I’m almost done on the Baxter expansion. Just another week or two.”

  “No,” I say quickly. Too fucking quickly, considering every pair of eyes has suddenly turned my way. “The deck is a hazard and needs to be done right away. I checked it out myself. Isn’t that right Kylee?”

  “That’s right. It’s a dilapidated mess and a hazard,” she agrees and I hope that takes the attention off me. Ryan, though, that bastard needs to stop smirking at me before I take him outside and wipe it off his face myself.

  “Enough work talk,” Gram says and turns to Kylee.

  “What do you do, child?”

  “I’m a lawyer,” Kylee says quietly, like the word tastes sour on her tongue.

  “A lawyer,” Gram exclaims and claps her hands. “How impressive.”

  Impressive? Yeah, I guess. Not that I have a love for lawyers, and truthfully, that’s the last thing I expected her to say, and all the more reason to stay away from her. When I was arrested I learned just how manipulative lawyers could be. They had far too many tricks up their sleeves and spouted nothing but legal jargon from their sharp mouths. My gaze goes to Kylee’s mouth again, her soft pink lips specifically. I can think of other ways to put that mouth of hers to work.

  On that note, I scoop a forkful of potatoes, chew, then say, “I thought you designed clothes or something.”

  Her eyes go wide, but then something wistful, something sad, moves across her face. “I do,” she says, her brow pulling together. “How . . . oh, you must have seen my bedroom.”

  “What were you doing in her bedroom?” Jacob, the other twin, asks, his dimples spreading as he wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “I screamed when I found a spider in my bedroom, and Jamie and Ryan came running to my rescue.” She grins at Gram. “They’re both sweet boys.”

  Before one of my asshole brothers or cousins comes back with a smart-ass comment, Summer turns to look at the dress Kylee is wearing, her mouth agape. “You design clothes?”

  Kylee shrugs like it’s nothing but I get the sense that it’s everything. She plucks at her dress, a vulnerability about her that sucks the air from my lungs quicker than one of Ty’s rear naked chokeho
lds.

  “It’s a hobby,” she says quietly. “My designs aren’t good enough to sell.”

  Whoever the fuck told her that needs a beat-down. Shit, man, I shouldn’t feel so protective of her, but I hate the hurt look on her face.

  “My God, you’re kidding me?” Summer bursts out. “This is gorgeous. I was admiring your dress earlier. They’re definitely good enough to sell. Better than good enough. They’re great.”

  She smiles at Summer, but beneath it there’s a sadness, like she really doesn’t believe in her talent. I know the feeling. My brothers believed in me, but there was really only one man’s approval I wanted, and he hated that I was a dreamer.

  Tattooing isn’t a man’s job, construction is. Jesus, he was such a hard-ass prick, but I miss him like fuck.

  “Like I said, it’s a hobby.”

  Gram blinks up at me. “You’re an artist, like my sweet boy here.”

  Kylee lets loose a little breath. “I’m not really an artist,” she says. “And I won’t have much time for it, once I begin practicing in September.”

  Summer gasps and puts her hand on her stomach. “This one,” she says and turns to Tyler. “With a kick like that, I think this one is going to give you a run for your money, Ty.”

  Ty laughs. “Future MMA fighter.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it,” Summer says. “This one’s going to be our next president. No one is punching my baby.”

  “He’ll be whatever he wants to be,” Sean says, and Summer nods.

  “You’re right. I’m not going to force him or her into doing a job they don’t want.”

  Kylee looks down at her plate, her brow furrowed like she totally gets what Summer is saying.

  “But I’m sure he or she will want to be president. I mean who wouldn’t, right?” Summer adds with a wink.

  “Not me,” Tyler says and when the rest of the guys join in, everyone laughs. Summer winces when the baby kicks again. She reaches for Kylee’s hand, and Kylee’s eyes go wide when Summer asks, “Want to feel?” Before Kylee can answer, Summer takes her hand and puts it on her stomach.

  “Oh, my God,” Kylee says laughing. “Mrs. Owens, I’m not sure you’re getting that girl. I think this one is going to be in the NFL.”

  “Call me Gram,” she says with a wave of her hand. “And girls play football too. And if it’s not a girl, we’ll have to keep trying,” Gram says and I don’t miss the look she slides me. Jesus. “Oh, that reminds me. Summer, we need to head to Hope Falls to pick up your new crib tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you come along, Kylee?” Summer suggests. “They have a Starbucks in Hope Falls.”

  Jesus Christ, look at them all, bonding with the new girl.

  “You know you shouldn’t be drinking that,” Sean says, and puts his arm around his wife’s back.

  “It’s my one and only weakness, Sean. Besides, it’s basically milk.”

  He arches a brow. “Your one and only weakness?” he asks.

  She kisses him and grins. “Well, maybe not my one and only.”

  “Get a room,” Jared says, and everyone laughs. Everyone except me. Nope, not laughing at all. I’m envisioning Kylee and me alone in a room, bare naked, and all the things I want to do to her. My cock thickens and I mentally marshal it back into submission.

  On that note, I push back from the table, needing to get to my shop. “Thanks for dinner, Gram. It was great as always, but I have to get to work if I want the shop to be ready for the grand opening next month. I still have a lot of cleaning and painting to do.”

  Gram takes a sip of her tea. “No dessert?”

  “He doesn’t need it,” Tyler says. “He’s getting a little soft around the middle.”

  I glare at Tyler, my kid brother, the tough-as-nails cage fighter, and take in his smirk. “Want to take this outside? Let me show you I’m still your big brother.”

  “Yeah, around the middle.” He laughs and adds, “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of our new friend.”

  Kylee smiles at that. “It’s okay, I don’t embarrass easily.”

  I call bullshit. I saw her blush. She definitely embarrasses easily and I’d give my left nut just to see her cheeks turn that pretty shade of pink again.

  Summer pats Kylee’s hand. “Don’t worry, they’re always like this. Too much testosterone in one room.” She rubs her belly. “We need more girls in the family. To even things out.”

  “I’m not getting any younger, you know,” Gram says. “I want my great-grandkids now while I can enjoy them.”

  We all groan and shake our heads. “Don’t be out too late,” Sean says. “You start on Kylee’s deck tomorrow.”

  Lucky fucking me.

  I was hoping to avoid her but now have no choice but to see her every goddamn day. “Yeah, I know,” I say and take my plate to the kitchen before I step outside. I would have stayed to help with clean-up, but Gram hates us guys in her space. The warm air falls over me, and I breathe past the tightness in my throat. I hop on my bike and clear my head on my way to my small shop. I’d love to expand it someday, break down the south wall and add a new room. Ryan wants to learn the business, and once I get things up and running I plan to bring him on board and teach him. Perhaps if I make this place successful, I can prove there is more to me. Maybe then someone might believe in me. What the fuck am I talking about? I don’t give two shits what anyone outside of the family thinks of me. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve not even opened my doors yet, and I need to get the place cleaned up and in working order before I even think about sinking money I don’t have into an expansion.

  I kill the ignition on my bike, hop off, and unlock the door. The first thing I do is turn on the radio. Some old song comes on but I don’t mind. I kind of dig the older music. I make my way to the bathroom to wash my hands before I start laying out the cloths to cover the furniture, then grab a cold beer from the fridge. I crack it and turn when I hear someone coming in behind me.

  “I’m not op . . .” my voice falls off and my heart stalls when I see Kylee walking into the place like she owns it—and like she’s looking for trouble.

  “Hey, sweet boy,” she says, and a growl catches in my throat as she runs her fingers over my things, flips the pages on my sketch book, and steps up to my reclining leather tattoo chair.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice rough with arousal as her scent fills the small place.

  “Well I was thinking about our tattoo conversation the other day.”

  “What about it?”

  “I thought you could . . .” She slides into the chair, opens her legs, and says, “Ink me.”

  Kill me.

  Fucking.

  Now.

  Chapter Four: Kylee

  “I’m not inking you,” he says through gritted teeth, his hands at his side, one gripping a bottle of beer and swinging it idly. He might be trying to pull off casual, but damn, he’s coiled tighter than a class of law students awaiting news on their bar exams.

  “Why not?”

  The muscles along his jaw ripple and his eyes go dark, murderous, like he’s fighting some kind of internal battle. “You were drinking at Gram’s. I don’t ink anyone who’s consumed alcohol.”

  I wave my hand. “I had a glass of wine, Jamie. I hardly call that drinking.”

  “You had two glasses. Jared filled your glass before he took you down to the lake, remember?”

  “Oh, right. I didn’t realize you were keeping track. Still, I’ve had a meal since then, and I drove here. I’m not under the influence at all.”

  Nope, not at all, and the only thing I want to be under is him. But I’m guessing he knows that by now. Heck, he probably knew it the second I asked him if he wanted a drink after walking in on me naked.

  He steps up to me, his Adam’s apple bobbing like it’s going down for the third count, and when I catch his scent, a mix of leather and hot, hard man, heat trickles through me. I take in the hardness in his ey
es as he glares at me and suddenly I’m not so sure this is my brightest moment. I’m not used to rough and tough guys like him, ones who looks like they’re going to eat me alive. Every instinct I possess tells me Jamie Owens is not a guy one should ever toy with—like I’m doing right now.

  Suddenly skittish, I grip the sides of the chairs, about to get up, run far away from this man and the dangers he exudes, when he puts his legs on either side of my chair to cage me in place. His bottle hits the table beside me with a thud and my panicky heart races faster.

  “Won’t Daddy get upset?” He angles his head, his eyes moving over my face like he can see right through me. “Or maybe that’s the point.”

  “I’m a grown woman,” I say, going on the defense even though there is a sexual storm raging inside me. “I can do what I want.”

  “If you really want a tattoo, I’ll give you one.” His gaze leaves my mouth, travels leisurely down my body, and I squirm under his heated glare. He touches me, the pads of his thumb rough on my arm as he slides his hand downward, sending scorching heat through my veins. “But I’m not so sure that’s why you’re really here,” he says, his voice deeper, darker.

  “It is.” Hot and needy from his touch, I stroke my pinned thighs. He widens his legs to let me inch mine open. “I want one right here,” I say, naked lust overcoming my concerns and urging me on.

  “Are you sure it’s a tattoo you want on your thigh?”

  Oh, God, when he looks at me like that, I can barely think. “I . . . uh . . .”

  He grips my dress, drags it up my legs slowly, until my thighs are exposed. “Or maybe it’s something else you want between your legs.”

  Oh. My. God.

  “Like . . .” I begin, my ability to string a coherent sentence together abandoning me. “Like . . . what?”

  I suck in a breath, but can’t fill my lungs when he leans forward. “Like this.” He brushes his rough tongue over my inner thigh and the world closes in on me.