by Mia Ashlinn
Landon groaned, “Fuck,” and his hips jerked, pressing his cock even further into her hand. The sensitive head bumped into the silken skin of her ass, just a centimeter from the hole he’d fucked last night.
Katie-Anne was tempting him, taunting him, all over again. But, before he could guide his erection into her tight hole, another curse split the air, and it wasn’t his. It was Shane’s.
Shane jumped out of the bed, whirling around on them with bloodthirsty eyes. “What the hell happened here last night?”
Katie-Anne yanked her hand away from Landon’s cock and sat up. Wrapping the sheet around her naked body, she scooted to the side of the bed then reached out to Shane. But he glanced down at her hand, glaring at the diamond sparkler on her ring finger and pushed it away.
“I asked you two a damn question,” Shane lashed out before grabbing his clothes and yanking them on. “The last thing I remember was walking in on your wedding then going to the bar.”
“But don’t you remember what happened after that? Don’t you remember when you came back to the chapel and prop—”
“No, I changed my mind,” Shane cut Katie-Anne off. “I don’t want to know about how you two could lie to me like that. Seeing the betrayal with my own eyes was bad enough.”
Betrayal? We have already been through this garbage one too many times recently. What more can I do? How can I get through to him? When is he going to realize I would never hurt him on purpose? I love the dumb bastard. Hell, I married him, didn’t I? And so did Katie-Anne. What does that say about us?
“Hey Shane, I’m getting pretty fucking tired of this argument. We did nothing wrong,” Landon countered then slipped out from under the covers and began dressing himself, as well. “If you would calm down and listen to us, you would know that there is nothing for you to be all pissed off for.”
Katie-Anne didn’t speak, and she didn’t move from her spot. She didn’t dress herself or even look at them. Her dull eyes remained fixated on the floor.
Goddamn Shane and his short fucking temper. Our first morning as husband and husband and wife has gone down the shitter.
“Shane, you need to listen to me—” Landon gritted out from between his clenched teeth.
“No, you listen, Landon Tolliver,” Shane interjected in a terse tone. “I’m an asshole. I pushed you both away, and you moved on. I get that. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
Buttoning the last button on his shirt without even looking at it, Shane glowered at Landon and continued his tirade. “But I wasn’t the only one in the wrong. You both lied to me. I trusted you, and you went behind my back and arranged to marry the woman we swore we’d never get involved with. For this very reason, I might add. I didn’t want to lose my best friend, but I guess we don’t always get what we want, now do we?”
Katie-Anne gasped but still didn’t speak. She stood without meeting either of their eyes and dressed in total silence, unlike Shane and Landon who continued to bicker like a pissed-off old married couple.
“I did not betray you,” Landon declared, tucking in his shirt then buckling his belt, “and neither did she. She married y—”
Shane cut him off, not letting him finish his explanation—again. “What would you call it?” he inquired before grabbing his shoes and shoving his feet inside them. “You lied to me. You allowed your feelings for her to come between our friendship.”
“Yeah, our friendship,” Landon sneered. “Maybe, if you would give me what I need, I wouldn’t have felt the need to move on without you. Maybe, if you would get your fucking head out of your ass, you would find that you need her as much as you need me. And maybe, just maybe, if you would get a fucking clue, you would realize just who married who last night.”
The sound of a door shutting caught both of their attention. They whipped their head toward the only exit in the room, realizing that, while they’d been having a pissing contest, Katie-Anne had left them without saying a word.
“Motherfucker” and “Son of a bitch” flew out of their mouths at the same time. They heard a soft, feminine conversation on the other side of the door, but the women were gone by the time they opened it.
“This is fucking great,” Landon said. “I hope you’re happy, asshole.”
“I don’t anticipate being happy again for a long time.”
“You know, Shane. I think you deserve everything you get. One day, you will find out the truth about everything that happened last night, and you’ll feel like the bastard you are.”
* * * *
Present day, mid-January…
A hand on his shoulder woke Landon up and his mind returned to the garage where he stood with the bastard in question. “I can’t deal with all of this bullshit right now.”
“We have to talk,” Shane insisted with a deep frown.
“No, Shane, we don’t. You have kept your head up your ass for twenty-four years, and I fucking let you. So, it is time you let me.” Landon moved away from the car. He dropped the wrench onto his tool chest and wiped his hands on the oil rag lying next to it. “When I’m ready, I will let you know. Until then, stay the hell off my back.”
“Look at where my stupidity got the three of us. Get over your stubbornness, Landon.”
Landon shook his head, turning his back to Shane, and ignored his friend’s remark. Right now, he was more concerned with how tonight would go. The moment Katie-Anne walked through the door—if she came—Landon was fucked. He knew it, and he embraced it.
In all honesty, Shane was, too. He could pretend all he wanted, but he was weakening. The man talked about her all the time to anyone who’d listen to him, even if it was as much negative as positive. Everyone had noticed the change in Shane and most of the people in town were gossiping already. Before he’d seen those papers, Shane hardly ever talked about her or to her, but that had changed. He seemed as besotted as Landon was.
Landon shook his head. He needed to get it together before tonight so he could handle whatever came at him, whether it went well or fell apart. Pulling in a lungful of air, he steered the conversation back to where they’d kept it over the last month—business.
“By the way, we need to order a couple of parts…”
* * * *
Standing next to Landon, Shane wanted to smash something. His best friend had gone back to business, and it irritated the hell out of him. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t fix a damn thing if Landon wouldn’t talk to him.
The last few months had been hell on Earth for Shane. First, he’d had to watch his best friend falling deeper in love with the woman that Shane wanted nothing more than to share with him. Then a giant misunderstanding had led Shane to believe that they’d betrayed him and married each other when, in truth, Katie-Anne had legally married him. But even finding that out had nothing on the devastation of watching her walk away or having Landon move out of their apartment with the knowledge it was entirely his own fault.
Shane hadn’t been surprised that Katie-Anne had run and Landon had moved out. He’d, actually, anticipated it from both of them, but it didn’t make the pain any less debilitating.
Losing Landon was killing Shane. Working day-in and day-out was eating away at him. They had done everything together for as long as he could remember and, now, Shane would barely speak to him. A lot of days, all Shane got was a grunt from Landon. It was a long way from the way it had been for the majority of their lives.
They’d lived together for eighteen years, and before that, they’d practically lived in each other’s back pockets. They were both foster kids, and their foster moms were best friends. Well, they were more than friends, but most people didn’t know that. They’d been too private to openly share their romantic relationship—even in a small, unorthodox town like Serenity.
Their mother’s’ close relationship bound him, Deke, Landon, and Sarah. However, none of them grew as close as Landon and Shane. Their connection went too deep, beyond friendship or brotherhood. It was like they were one person
.
When Landon had walked out, Shane’s life and his home were suddenly turned upside down. He’d felt like a dying man, and he couldn’t blame anyone else, only himself, which totally sucked ass.
If Shane had gotten past Katie-Anne’s background and her lifestyle sooner, none of this bullshit would have happened. They would have been together years ago, if it hadn’t taken him opening an envelope with her good-bye letter, a partially burned painting of a bird, and a legal document to see that he would take her in any way, shape, or form. He could have had them both and, possibly, even little babies running around. The world would have been in the palm of his hands, but he had to go and fuck the whole goddamn thing up.
Now, he couldn’t get close enough to either of them to do a damn thing. Katie-Anne was gone, and Landon might as well be. God, he’d had no clue how much he wanted to be with her or Landon until they wouldn’t have him anymore. It was funny how life bit people in the ass sometimes.
Maybe, it is about time I stop pussyfooting around and bite back.
“Landon,” Shane barked, interrupting his friend’s brusque words about the parts he needed to order. “You have until tonight to get your head out of your ass, or I will get it out for you. The two of you belong to me, and I belong to you. We need to stop wasting time and start acting like it. If I have to tie your ass up to get you to talk to me, I will. But, you need to keep this in mind, if you get tied to my goddamn bed, I won’t let you out anytime soon. And that goes for Katie-Anne, too.”
Shane didn’t wait for a response. He flicked a look filled with promise at Landon then stalked out of the room.
Jaycee’s party couldn’t come soon enough for him. He planned to start forever tonight. No matter what price he had to pay, they would be his.
* * * *
Katie-Anne spotted the “Welcome to Serenity, Kansas” sign up ahead. Tonight, she would face most of the people she loved and tell them that she was leaving and not coming back. Yeah, that’ll go over real well. Thank God Shane and Landon aren’t supposed to be at Jaycee’s when I get there.
Jaycee and Shannon had both told her—numerous times—that neither Shane nor Landon would be at Jaycee’s birthday party. Apparently, they had taken a trip to Kinky to see Deke and Adam and weren’t expected to be back for a few days. Yet Katie-Anne had still hesitated in returning to Serenity because she knew her friends. Those two girls had been twisting the truth to get what they wanted since they’d learned to talk, and they wanted her to come home.
Just in case Jaycee and Shannon had decided to play shameless matchmakers, Katie-Anne had declined the invitation—over and over. Even now, her friends had no clue that she was coming home. But, after a lot of thought and a special call to Deke to verify her friends’ story, she’d realized the risk was worth it. If the men were truly out of town, this would be the best time for her to get into Serenity and get back out without the men’s intervention. Unfortunately, if her friends and Deke were lying worse than a couple of knockoff Persian rugs, she was in way over head. No, I’m not in over my head. I’m fucking screwed.
Her shaking hands tightened around the steering wheel. She had to stop this. If she wanted to succeed in convincing her friends and family that she didn’t want to live here anymore, she had to appear calm, cool, and collected. Normally, she could pull that off easily. But, for some reason, she couldn’t seem to do that anymore.
Her whole body jittered with nerves, and she seriously considered turning around and driving back to Luscious, where she’d been staying in one of Deke and Adam’s many luxurious retreats.
She laughed out loud, not sounding humorous, just self-deprecating. Everyone probably had this insane notion that she’d shelled out thousands of dollars a night to stay at the ultra-exclusive Bed and Breakfast in the unconventional Kansas town. But nothing could be further from the truth. She couldn’t afford to stay in a pricey place like that and, as much as she loved spending time with the legion of bohemian people who lived in the artistic community there, she wouldn’t have anyway.
So, instead, she and Deke had struck a deal. If she would paint while she stayed there, he wouldn’t charge her a penny. It was the perfect arrangement, considering she had no money, and he needed artwork for his new restaurant. So she’d happily taken him up on his offer.
The last month had been the best and worst of her life. Being away from Landon, Shane, and the rest of the gang had worn on her. But being allowed to paint full-time had almost made up for it.
Painting was therapeutic for her, and she’d made more headway in one month than she had in all of last year combined. She had a feeling that, finally, painting a dove had set off her creative streak. After she’d spent the last sixteen years artistically avoiding anything with a bird on it, she’d found it quite cathartic.
So take that, Mother.
Katie-Anne groaned, wishing she hadn’t thought about the woman who’d fucked her up royally. She could still remember everything about her mother. The ways she smelled, and the way she acted. The way she moved and how she spoke. Like I could forget Mommy Fucking Dearest!
Her mother hadn’t been known for being a nice lady. Hell, her crazy antics were legendary, but no one knew how psychotic she’d been toward Katie-Anne, too. She’d played the part of mother perfectly, treating her “precious baby girl” like a princess in public. Bitch.
She’d shown off Katie-Anne around town like a fucking doll, making her into some twisted plaything. If that hadn’t been bad enough, she’d stolen the only thing that made Katie-Anne happy—her art.
Katie-Anne had never forgotten the day that her mother came home early and discovered her taking an art lesson from a friend that had not been approved beforehand. She’d completely flipped out and torn up Katie-Anne’s sketches and paintings in front of her art instructor then burned them in a metal trash can. She’d cackled the entire time.
Every picture had been of the same thing—birds. Katie-Anne had always felt this deep connection with the flying creatures. Their beauty and purity mesmerized her, and she would spend hours sitting in her room watching them outside her window or painting the ones she saw in her mind.
Katie-Anne had envied the freedom they had and fantasized about one day getting the chance to be the woman she wanted to be. She could just fly away from the misery holding her captive and be who and what she wanted. But her mother had torched that image and her dreams in front of her.
Katie-Anne had only managed to save one sketch, and it had been a miracle that she’d done even that. The paper was mostly charred, but she could still make out the dove taking flight and “Fly Free” scribbled underneath it.
Up until a month ago, she’d kept that piece of paper on her always. Now, Shane had it in his possession, and he probably had no clue what it meant or why she’d put it into the envelope. Not that she knew, either. It had just felt right in the moment.
“Just fucking perfect,” Katie-Anne muttered when she passed the turn to her brother’s house. “That’s what I get for thinking, instead of paying attention.”
Katie-Anne made it a quarter of a mile up the road before she found a spot to turn around. Moving quicker than was probably safe, she executed a flawless U-turn then drove back to the driveway she’d missed. But, rather than stopping, Katie-Anne kept going.
“I think it’s time for a drink,” she murmured as she blew past her brother’s house and headed toward the apartment her friends, Sam Carrington, Ethan Bartlett, and Brett Monroe, shared. She knew they would have exactly what she needed.
Milkshake or float? It looked like it was going to be a bitch of a night, and she needed something tasty to keep her sane.
A chocolate milkshake it is.
Chapter 5
A short time later, Katie-Anne flopped onto the stylish sofa in Sam, Ethan, and Brett’s living room. Bouncing ever-so-slightly, she glared down at the horribly uncomfortable white cushions. Who would want to have this damn thing in their home? Obviously Ethan. Only he would
prefer fancy to function.
Sure, the massive, minimalist sectional was pretty. But, damn, it was about as comfortable as sitting on a boulder. She couldn’t sink into the cushions or relax against the soft back. It didn’t curve around her body and envelop her in its warmth. Yeah, this sofa sucks.
Hell, I can’t believe that anyone would even sell this…this…this thing. It’s not even a couch. It’s an over-the-top piece of decoration that no one should have to sit on—ever, not even for money.
Getting up, she moved to stand at the window overlooking Main Street. “Samuel Carrington, I have no clue why you would let Ethan choose something so horrid for a couch,” she grumbled. “I’m an artist, and I understand the need for beauty, but that should be outlawed.”
Sam chuckled from behind her. “And everyone around town thinks that you are all about the superficial. If that were true, you would adore that couch. It is by some hoity-toity interior designer.”
“Oh, honey, I know exactly who designed it,” she informed him with a huff. Spinning around until she saw Sam’s handsome face, she grinned. “And that woman is downright scary.”
“Of course you do,” Ethan said as he entered the living area, “and so do we. Sam just thinks he’s being funny.”
Sam glowered and shot back, “I’m taking lessons from you, angel boy.”
Over the last few months, Katie-Anne had noticed an odd, crackling air whenever her three friends got within ten feet of each other. It was as though something drastic had changed, as if an earth-shaking event had occurred. Yet none of them had said a word to her about anything out of the ordinary. All she knew was, at the rate they were moving, their friendship would falter then crumble.
