by Taryn Quinn
Now I’d just been naked with this guy, and I sincerely regretted my life choices. All of them. Including the one that meant I couldn’t just mindlessly enjoy carnal pleasures of the flesh with this surprisingly attractive—yet still brutish—man, though I still had a condom left in my purse.
Because we didn’t know each other, and I didn’t even like his personality all that much. His body, however? The lean muscles and tats that I now had a bird’s eye view of wrapping around his shoulders and biceps and right on down his forearms…
I quite enjoyed all of that.
So who said we had to talk to each other? We could just—
Nope. We could not. Ex-communicated from Our Holy Mother Church of The Four Corners or not, I could not do such a thing.
Even if I really wanted to.
“This bathroom is gorgeous,” I hastened to add. “It could use just a few more things. Some additional amenities, you could say.”
“Oh yeah?” He stepped back and crossed his arms, bracing his thumb against his mouth. “Like what?”
“Storage. You need a linen closet for guest towels.”
“I don’t have guests here. Next.”
“And you need a hamper, to store—”
“I have one towel, and I undress in the other room. Next.”
“You just parade around naked through the house?”
The smirk I’d glimpsed briefly a moment ago had now taken up permanent residence on his face. “Who’s gonna see? The forest people?”
“You don’t have neighbors?”
“Did you see any?”
“I didn’t scope out the neighborhood before I steered into the ditch.” As soon as I’d said it, I realized my mistake.
His mouth thinned. “You steered into the ditch?”
“Not exactly, I hit an icy patch and—”
“Red.” The word was a growl.
I was already growing to like that sound coming from the depths of his chest. It emphasized how much of a male he was. Uncouth, rough around the edges, barely even sociable. Yet still so very male that it made every part of me sit up and take notice.
Including my nipples, which had decided to do the hey, how you doin’? salute against his terrycloth towel.
“There was a deer,” I mumbled, hearing my father’s voice in my head. He’d go up one side of me and down the other if he knew what I’d done.
“You drove off the road to avoid a deer?”
“And a doe,” I added, gripping the front of the towel in one hand and the hem in the other. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“What you do is not risk your damn life driving off the road when you don’t know what you’re driving into.”
“It would’ve been fine if my stupid tires hadn’t spun out.”
“Listen to me, Red.” He gripped my shoulders and I went still. Not from fear, but brutal awareness, the kind that I’d always imagined slammed into a person before they were attacked. That one second of utter knowing, complete certainty, that your life would never be exactly the same again. “You don’t risk yourself for anyone—or anything—else. You understand me? You are your first priority. Always.”
“Survival of the fittest?” Anger brewed in my belly, and I shook off his hold. “I don’t live like that. I didn’t need to hit that deer and her baby, and I didn’t. And I’m fine. Aren’t I?” I lifted my arms, which had the unintended effect of causing my towel to dip lower than it should have. But I just hitched it up, climbed out of the stall, and marched with my bare feet and dripping legs out of the bathroom and up the hall.
I wanted the warmth of the fire and to bask in his curiosity in me for a little while longer. He didn’t know how to tag me, couldn’t quite figure me out, and I liked that. But if I didn’t put some distance between us, soon enough he’d have me pegged.
God knows I’d never been anyone else’s enigma. I’d always been safe, comfortable, predictable Magpie.
Forcing back a sigh, I rushed into the living room. The space was sparse to the point of almost emptiness, but it helped the house seem bigger than it was. The big fireplace and stone mantel and large flat screen TV mounted on the opposite wall were the main features of the room. Along with them was a long couch perfect for naps and a couple of armchairs, plus a few side tables here and there that looked just rustic enough to possibly have been handmade by him as well.
Guess he was kind of an enigma too. So was the beauty of strangers. The possibilities were endless.
The guitar leaning against the chair next to the fire gave me pause. I ran my fingertips over the cherry wood, shivering again though the warm shower and fire had helped to chase away much of my chill.
Was the brute a guitar player? I tried to imagine him cradling the instrument as he’d cradled the wood and found it wasn’t as hard to imagine as I would have thought. I debated asking him about it, then decided obviously it was a hobby. He wasn’t the kind of guy to have a prop guitar in the living room to pick up chicks.
I seriously doubted he needed any help.
When he found me staring pensively into the fire a little while later, he didn’t speak. Just held out a plate with a misshapen lump of cheese with half a piece of bread on either side.
I laughed. Hard.
“So I didn’t have enough bread for sandwiches for two. Didn’t expect to need it. The plan was to eat my soup and my sandwich, and get so shit-faced I didn’t see midnight.”
The gruffness of his tone got to me. I couldn’t even say why. Maybe because I knew he was making an effort, and that perhaps he didn’t make much of an effort for all that many people. Possibly because people hadn’t made much of an effort for him.
There went my college psych classes, rearing their ugly heads again.
I took the plate and picked up the sandwich he’d made me, biting in despite my extreme aversion to melted plastic. It didn’t taste so bad after all. I chewed and swallowed before wiping my mouth with the edge of the towel.
His molten dark gaze tracked the movement like a hunter studying his prey. Worse, since I was almost sure he didn’t intend to kill me. But what he’d leave behind would be wreckage just the same.
“So where’s the alcohol?” I tried to sound casual, as if I got loaded all the time.
I also often went into strange men’s houses, and stripped down, and let them see me with a little bit more fluff between my legs than I preferred. Plus, I ate their sandwiches without wondering about possible poison meant to knock me out so they could do bad things to me.
Things that in the case of this guy, I really wanted to be awake for.
“It’s Coors. Nothing fruity and pink with little umbrellas.”
I frowned. “I drink beer. Girly drinks are for sissies.”
“Oh, is that so?” He stepped back and crossed his arms again. I was starting to wonder if he did that intentionally to make all his muscles ripple. Combined with the thick swirls of dark ink that seemed to cover far too much of his golden skin, he seemed dangerous.
Alluring.
And I wasn’t even drunk yet. Yet being the operative word, since this was New Year’s Eve. If tonight was going to be my first night to get even partially wasted, I’d picked an auspicious evening for it.
“Yes. Beer is my favorite.” Favorite only if I was dying of thirst and had no other options, but semantics. “Can I have one?”
“Are you of age?”
I threw back my shoulders. “Excuse me?”
“Easy question. Easy answer.”
“I’m twenty-three.” In February. Close enough.
“Okay. I’ll get you a beer and then we’ll see about calling the tow truck so you can get on home. Since all your people will be out looking for you soon, I’m sure.” He did air quotes around your people, and I did not appreciate it.
I did have people. Lots of them. Coming from a family of six kids, it wasn’t an exaggeration. Only problem was they were all out partying tonight. I’d been invited to a celebration or two myse
lf, but I’d eschewed the invites to bring bread to Mrs. Pringles. After that, I’d planned to take a long hot shower and curl up with my e-reader.
Alone, but not lonely. I had intended to practice self-love. Self-nurturing, in fact.
But if you could get someone else to love and nurture you tonight…
“You’re right. I probably shouldn’t take the time to drink with you. I should get dressed and see about getting towed.” I took another bite of my sandwich. “I’ll just catch a ride home with the tow truck guy.”
“Or lady,” he said under his breath, grabbing his cell off the table beside the fire.
He swiped a few times, held the phone to his ear, and waited. Frowning, he pulled the phone back and tapped a few times before listening again. “What the hell?”
“Still not answering?” Fussily, I arranged my towel to make sure I wasn’t showing too much of my legs. Not that he seemed to be bowled over by desire anyway, but just in case.
Ignoring me, he tapped the phone a couple more times and lifted it to his ear again. After a moment, he turned around and grunted out a message. That, yes, I could still hear though he’d turned his back.
“Hey Beth, been trying to reach you at work. I have a situation with a vehicle that needs transport. Crashed outside my place. Maybe you can give the chick a ride too? If not, I’ll deal. Thanks.”
My frown grew the longer he spoke in his so-not-hushed tones. Beth. Probably some old girlfriend. Or current girlfriend. I didn’t even know his name, so I certainly had no right to be offended that he might not be single.
He’d seen me naked, but so had the doctor at the hospital where I was born. No big deal.
Once he’d ended the call and turned back, I jerked to my feet and set aside the half-eaten sandwich. “I can handle my own transportation home. Don’t worry about it. Same with the tow truck. I’ll call my Dad and we’ll handle it in the morning with AAA, who is never closed.”
“No, but you’ll be waiting two hours on the morning of a holiday during a big snowstorm. Beth should be here before then.” He raked a hand through his shaggy dark hair. “I’m not sure what’s going on with her.”
“Maybe found a better hot date?” I hadn’t meant to be snarky. Normally I was quite pleasant.
He just huffed and strode out of the room.
I picked up the sandwich and took another bite. It really wasn’t half-bad. No point in starving myself.
When he returned, he had two bottles of beer and a bowl that I presumed contained his soup. It had to be ice cold by now, or maybe he’d re-nuked it.
He popped the top of my beer and handed it over. I took it, nodding my thanks, and swiftly realized I’d have to actually drink it. Preferably without gagging.
I took a quick hit, then another. Feeling his eyes on me, I kept knocking them back. And lo and behold, after the first few putrid swallows, a nice warmth began to swim through my veins. I started drinking faster just to get more of that pleasant floaty feeling.
“Easy,” he admonished. “Don’t want you passing out on me.”
“Oh, I can hold my liquor.” I burped and clapped a hand over my mouth as he grinned.
“I’m sure. What are you, five-feet-nothing and a buck twenty?”
“Five-two and one-thirty-five.”
“Wow, a woman who freely discloses her age and her weight.”
“I’ll also disclose my marital status and my name, if you’d like those too.”
He sat on the padded leather ottoman on the other side of the fire and set his beer down. He scooped up soup and hummed under his breath, which might have indicated approval. I couldn’t be sure. “Yes. I would.”
“Single. Extremely single.” Great. Now I sounded desperate and on the make. “And my name is Margaret Kelly.”
He choked. “No way. Not the Kelly virgin.”
5
Kellan
She stared at me as if I were Satan. Tail, horns, and all.
“I’m not a virgin.” She said the word with obvious distaste. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but it’s obviously wrong.”
“More like outdated.” I stirred my lukewarm soup and shoveled in a few spoonfuls before lifting my gaze to hers again. She tended to look like a damn wounded bird, until her shields popped down once again.
I wasn’t proud of putting that hurt expression in her eyes even once. Putting her back up was a whole different thing altogether.
She was mouthy and vibrant and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out my reaction to her. Was it because it had been a while since I’d been with a woman? Or was there something about Margaret in particular that intrigued me?
“Outdated, huh? What is that supposed to mean?”
“You have an older sister, right? Maeve?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “She still thinks I’m a virgin. She probably will until I’m old and gray and have six kids.”
“Well, in her defense, I knew her a long time ago.” And quite personally, as I recalled groping her more than once under the bleachers at Turnbull High. She’d been a sexy, wild art student who’d done crazy stuff like painting words on her boobs so that when I got her top off, some kind of naughty message would be waiting for me.
Now that I’d seen both sisters’ racks, I had to acknowledge that obviously the Kellys had been genetically blessed.
The one thing I hadn’t seen on Maeve was her pussy. We’d made out a few times, but we’d never gone that far. I’d wanted to, of course, but she’d claimed to be a good Catholic girl who was saving her “cherry” for a boy who wanted to marry her. I’d suspected that was a load of bull, but then she’d brought up her other sisters, Regan and Magpie, the baby, and she’d insisted they’d all taken a purity pledge.
That had made me hard for a week. Back then, the idea of taking on three virgin sisters had pretty been much my idea of heaven wrapped up in a DD-sized bow.
“How long?”
I counted back in my head. “Probably about a decade, give or take. Fuck me.”
She pressed her lips together and stared at her beer. Her probably close-to-empty beer.
“Want another one?” I asked.
I shouldn’t be getting her drunk. No matter what she said, I had a feeling she didn’t do it often. Especially now that I knew she was the youngest Kelly girl.
In town, she was practically revered as a saint. One of the few young people today who always helped the elderly cross the street and did kind gestures like baking bread for someone when she should’ve been out living it up like other girls her age.
Though I’d lived in LA for several years, I’d heard enough about Magpie in town from the guys I’d gone to school with. I had the same crew as I always had—including a couple of the dudes in my band, who I’d brought with me out west—and they’d mentioned the Kelly sisters. Hard not to. They were all fucking gorgeous, or at least so I’d heard.
I’d never seen Magpie before, not in the flesh. Now that I’d really seen everything, I doubted I’d ever forget.
She nodded quickly, and it took me a second to remember what I’d asked her. Another beer. Right.
Stop thinking about her gorgeous fucking body, jackass. You’re never going to touch her.
I set aside my bowl and rose. I’d made it about two steps when her soft voice reached me. “Did you sleep with her?”
“With who?”
“Maeve.” She huffed out a breath. “She’s beautiful, and she has a lot of fun with guys.”
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
She let out a sigh. Relief?
I should’ve stopped there. But since I was me, I didn’t.
“I wanted to. Would have in a hot second, but she was saving her virginity for marriage.”
Margaret let out such a loud laugh that I did a doubletake. “She told you that? Oh God. She must’ve not liked you then. Or else you have a small penis.”
It was stupid to feel affronted. Or to respond with an equally juven
ile comment. “Don’t think so, since she put it in her mouth a time or five.”
She didn’t stop laughing. “Yeah, then she must’ve been trying to let you down gently.” She wiped her eyes. “I needed that laugh. Thanks.”
“Look at me, Red. Does any part of me seem small?”
Taking a sip of her beer, she let her gaze wander over me. “Not particularly, but some parts of the anatomy aren’t built to scale.”
“You mean like your huge tits that don’t go with the rest of your tiny body?”
I expected her to blanch or stutter or divert her gaze. Instead she nodded. “Exactly like that.”
Since I didn’t have a reply that wouldn’t take us into dangerous territory, I went into the kitchen and got her another beer.
I didn’t rush. Nor did I dally. This was my place, for fuck’s sake, and I wasn’t about to let her drive me into my kitchen. There was a reason I was single. I liked doing my own thing when and where I wanted to without having to check in with someone else. I had friends, of course, and plenty of them, but we all did our own thing and lived and let live.
Even in Wilder Mind, we didn’t get in each other’s faces. Sure, if someone went way off the rails, either musically or personally, we’d figure out what was going on. Otherwise, nope. No handholding here.
The sound of the TV turning on made me pull my head out of the fridge. I’d been staring into it blindly for a couple of minutes. Like a dumbass.
Not hiding from her, huh? Sure.
Party sounds and music flowed into the kitchen, and at once, I knew what she was watching. That New Year’s Fuckin’ Eve or whatever it was called. Bunch of boy bands and girls with poufy hair and lots of freezing people standing around Times Square, dancing their asses off.
Great. Now I was supposed to watch that?
I wished I’d brought my cell into the kitchen. Not that I doubted my sister would call me as soon as she got my message. If she wasn’t answering the phone at the tow truck shop or calling me back, something must be up. Big time. She always made sure the shop was open on holidays so she had a chance of competing with the big guys like AAA who were open twenty-four/seven. It was hard enough being a female in a male-dominated business without conceding business to the large fish in her small pond to boot. So she went the extra mile whenever she could.
