Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2)

by Verlene Landon

  Did it make him a bad person that he had even thought about it for a second or two? Maybe it was comfort and routine that made it a consideration. Maybe it was because the last time his soldier saluted was with her. There was a part of him that knew the reason there wasn’t starch in his collar was because of what she’d done, but there was another part, a small insecure part—one she created—that made him wonder if any woman—other than the unrealistic one that put in an appearance in his dreams—could cause him to ever rise to the occasion again.

  This getaway without electronics and unplugged from civilization was exactly what he needed. Michael mused about his destination and company as he unloaded his gear and made his way toward the plane. He hadn’t been to the family cabins in twenty years. Nor had he seen his half-brother for any length of face time—other than the few appearances he’d put in at some of Michael’s gigs—in half that.

  The last time he logged time at the family cabins was when he was eight—the summer his brother pushed him off the pier and didn’t jump in for him. His dad hadn’t gotten to him until the bubbles practically stopped. That was also the last time he so much as dipped a toe into any body of water that didn’t have a high level of chlorine and at least two lifeguards.

  Was it his brother’s wedding when he’d last had a real conversation with the asshole? No. Actually, it was more recent than that. About five years ago Michael had been doing a show and ran in to him between sets. He was cuddled up to some plastic Barbie, who was most definitely not his wife, in the back of the bar. Michael went over to say hello, hoping to shame him, but he’d seemed proud of the barely-legal blow-up doll on his lap. Michael had recognized her from their shows; she was a regular. He had walked away more disgusted with his brother than he’d ever been, and that was saying something.

  Then, just a few months ago at The Moldy Dog, his brother had strolled in with another barely-legal piece of ass on his arm asking for VIP seats using Michael’s name at the door. The bouncer knew who he was, so he hooked him up, but Michael went out the back after the encore and refused to make nice with yet another girlfriend while Sandra was at home pregnant and clueless.

  His brother was a grade-A prick, so Michael wouldn’t even be spending time with him now if it wasn’t his dad’s dying wish.

  Plus, both their names were on the property, his dad had wrote the ridiculous clause into his will that they needed to spend this three months at the cabins together, getting them ready to go on the market. If after the requisite time they still wanted to sell, and both agreed, then so be it. However, if one failed to show or didn’t stay, they forfeited all rights and the property would revert to the other. If both failed to stay, they were to go to his mother’s brother’s cousin’s best friend’s family or some such person for a charity.

  Thank God the cabins were far enough apart he didn’t have to put in any time with his dickbag brother or he might not survive ninety days. His dad failed to understand why they didn’t get along because the man couldn’t find fault with any of his family. Even after the shit Richard put them through growing up, his dad was blinded by fatherly love. Michael didn’t have the heart to tell him all the other crap he didn’t know about. If I don’t see Richard again until I’m seventy-five, it would still be too soon.

  When he finally made his way to the plane and flung the door open, he was blown away by the sight that greeted him.

  Fuck, it’s her, am I dreaming? No, because there was no way in Hell John would be there if his dream woman was about to ride him to O-Town.

  As soon as the word airborne left him, so did the oxygen, as well as coherent thoughts—thoughts that didn’t revolve around hot, sweaty, enthusiastic sex, that is. He stared at the woman in the back of the plane with an intensity, which probably made both her and John wonder at his sanity. The longer he gawked like an idiot, he noticed subtle differences between her and his fantasy girl, but there weren’t many. She was everything he needed and wanted in a potential jockey—tight body that could make a man beg, creamy complexion interrupted by expressive chocolate eyes, and I-can-suck-a-trailer-hitch-through-a-garden-hose, ruby lips.

  Too bad his dick quit working in the waking hours when he saw his guitarist working overtime, balls deep in his fiancée. If only he could respond to the visual…

  “Holy Hell! It chooses now of all times to finally come out to play? Michael shoved his bag roughly into the plane and hopped up in the seat, both disturbed and thrilled—thrilled that his long-unconscious cock decided to come out of it’s coma, but disturbed by why.

  When had a woman gotten a rise out of him with just a friendly smile since puberty? And now that she did, what the fuck could he do about it? Nothing, that’s what. He was heading into a geographical-induced celibacy. A thought that didn’t disturb him one lick sixty fucking seconds ago. Hell, it had been over six months already, what was another three? But that was before his body actually fucking worked like a normal twenty-eight-year-old red-blooded man.

  What the holy Hell am I supposed to do now? He was sitting there sporting his first hard-on in months and nothing to do with it. This flight would be hours of Hell and wasted wood. Well, maybe not a complete waste. He had a handful of hours to chat up Miss Jockey in the back, try to convince her to spend some time with him in a compromising position before heading into what would now be a three month sentence instead of a pardon.

  Not to say that taking three months away from his life was easy, because it wasn’t. To put his life on hold like that was crazy, but he understood why his dad went this route. He had really wanted his sons to get along.

  John had mentioned the passenger going to the Black Oak airstrip, which is why he was tagging along and getting some currency. So, she was getting off at the same place he was, if he was lucky, that would have a double meaning.

  Michael was so lost in contemplating his plans for seduction he missed what John was saying. “Sorry, what?”

  “I said, this is Miss Reid. Miss Reid, this wool-gathering numskull is Michael. He’ll be sitting up here doing next to nothing the whole time, so if you need anything, just ask me, and I’ll make it happen for you.” John winked at Miss Reid before turning back around to face the front of the plane.

  “Please, call me Tori,” she said to the scowling beefcake in the front, before turning back to John. “You are going to give me a complex if you keep on with the Misses.”

  Wait, scowling? Why was he pissed, and he definitely looked pissed. Whatever, she didn’t need to be tempted anymore by him anyway. The more of a dick he was, the easier it would be to ignore him for the rest of the flight.

  She was working herself up in to a fine ire just thinking about it. The fact that he was sexy as Hell in his anger didn’t help, but she would focus on John, and soon, she’d be with Richard and maybe she’d call an end to her moratorium on sex. Richard had been begging and really, what was she gaining by abstaining other than a more intimate relationship with her vibrator and Richard being sour all the time?

  He didn’t understand why she decided to put their physical relationship on hold months ago. No matter how she explained it, he just didn’t get it. She felt like the other woman, a cheater. Not to mention he refused to wear a condom anymore and she refused to be forced into taking the pill. He said it was her responsibility, not his, to make sure there wasn’t an unwanted pregnancy. So sex was off the table for now, but that didn’t mean a girl couldn’t change her mind.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she harrumphed and glared in Michael’s direction, unexpectedly catching his intensely angry eyes boring into her. Not one to be intimidated, she tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow in challenge. Neither was backing down until John interrupted.

  “Here, Tori, put these on. If you need to communicate, just speak normally and we’ll hear you.” He handed her a headset while he explained, “Don’t worry about all the voices and whatnot you hear, it’s just other planes, towers and weather. They can’t hear you, okay?”


  “Thank you.” Tori responded as she donned the headset. Michael broke eye contact and followed John’s actions closely. John double clicked for the weather recording but didn’t put his headset over his ears, instead keeping them around his neck. That could only mean one thing, he had something to say and he didn’t want the jockey in the back to hear. Clever old man, making sure the weather report drowns out any chance of her overhearing you.

  After facing forward, presumably so she couldn’t see his lips, and feigning system checks, he spoke, “What the heck is your problem, rock star? What did our beautiful passenger do to turn you in to the Hulk?”

  Michael snapped his head toward his friend and instructor. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He threw a quick glance at Tori, then continued, “The only problem I’ve got with that fine piece of ass is how to talk her out of her clothes before I high-tail it out of civilization for months.” That comment earned him a look of disgust from John and made him feel like a jerk.

  “First of all, boy, a woman like that needs a man, not some wet behind the ears punk who looks at her like she just pissed in his Corn Flakes. Secondly, she’s not a piece of ass, someone you take back to the storeroom between sets and tumble with on a stack of rum and beer cases.” Michael’s jaw dropped to reply, but John soldiered on. “Or, back to the locker room of your gym for a quickie between clients. A woman like her deserves to be wined and dined, appreciated and loved properly. And most definitely not by someone who only wants a one-night stand.”

  Michael noticed John double-clicked for the weather recording again to keep Tori from hearing them. When Michael looked at his companion, really studied him, realization hit. “Holy shit, man, you’re not just flirting like you do, you’re really hot for this chick, aren’t you?” A look of guilt crossed John’s face. He’d never seen that look nor had he witnessed John really into a woman before. Michael was not going to let this rare opportunity to fuck with him pass.

  He and John were long-distance friends, so to speak. He’d met John when he walked into the local airstrip looking for someone to teach him to fly. John happened to be stopped there with another student. John was like the older brother he’d always wanted, and it felt to Michael like he filled a void for John also. Even though they didn’t share much about their lives and pasts, they were still fairly close. It seemed to work for them that way.

  “Well, first of all, old man, a woman like her needs to be ridden hard, have her ass slapped, and her hair pulled. Missionary with her would be like buying a Lambo and never topping fifty-five miles per hour. Secondly, she is primed for a cub, not a sugar daddy.” Michael let loose, laughing so hard at the look of anger overtaking his friend’s face, the subject of the conversation took her headset off and piped in.

  “Is everything okay?” She cast a look of disgust Michael’s way and one of concern John’s.

  “Everything’s fine, Tori, put your headset back on and we’ll take off in a second or two.” John threw his best smile at the lady, but it was obvious she wasn’t buying it, although she did as instructed, then stared out the windshield.

  "You may have set some thongs on fire back in your day, old man, but I make 'em too wet to burn," Michael muttered under his breath.

  As soon as she could no longer hear them, John scolded in a harsh whisper, “Don’t be vulgar.”

  It only took John a minute or less to compose himself and shake off everything that just happened. Michael, not so much; he had to fake it. This lady had really gotten to him. Of course, a man’s first erection in months would do that to anyone. That was his dirty little secret; Tonya didn’t know—thank God—and John didn’t fucking know. Michael had carried on like he was an oversexed hound dog since Tonya fucked his best friend, in appearance only, but no one needed to be privy to that little tidbit.

  His friend was probably thinking Michael would play “hit it and quit it” with Tori. It was the reputation he’d worked hard to cultivate to hide his inadequacies. John must have really taken a shine to this chick, the least he could do was bow out and give him a shot. It’s not like he needed a relationship anyway, and she had family and kids written all over her. He was grateful to her; she’d fixed him, somehow; she’d gotten a rise out of him, but he would find another outlet. A woman could do a Hell of a lot worse than John. Michael thought of it as a favor to his friend and a thank you gift to her. If it’s the right thing, then why do I feel like utter shit even considering it?

  “Sorry, man. I was just messing with you. She’s all yours, if she’ll have your cranky old ass. So, when are you going to ask her to bear your children?” Michael just couldn’t stop himself from poking the bear.

  “Don’t you worry about it none, youngin’, I’ll chat her up for the hour or so on the Bobcat ride up the mountain, depending on the snow and how slow I drive. You’ll sit in the back and clam it. I’d just like the opportunity to get to know her better, nothing more.” With a wink toward Michael, he removed the headset from around his neck, and hopped out to do one more outside once-over. When he popped back into the seat, Michael shared his own plans before they got airborne.

  “I wish you luck, man, and I expect an invitation to the wedding and the first son named after me.” It was a joke on his part to cut some tension, but it ratcheted down on Michael’s chest and sent bile into his mouth. Even the thought of tasting her sweet lips couldn’t cut the bitter. “Lucky for you, I have almost twenty-four hours before I have to officially be anywhere, so I think I’ll head to town for the night and see if I can find some company. I’ll see you in the morning, and you can ride me out then. That is, if that’s cool with you?” It was a rhetorical question he already knew his friend wanted to be alone with Tori.

  “Thanks, I owe you one.” John beamed as they both finally put their headsets over their ears and fired up the plane. John’s look of sheer joy should’ve made him feel good about himself, but instead, he felt like a dick. A dick that’d just lost something special before he even had it.

  Michael waited in the airstrip lounge just out of sight, watching Tori and John leave as they headed toward the mountain. There was a handful of family-owned cabins around the lake, his family’s clutch included. It was popular with the locals for its winter game and seclusion. Some even rented their cabins to tourists when they weren’t using them, which must be where Tori’s headed.

  She didn’t strike him as the roughing it type. Sure, she looked like she could hike Kilimanjaro, bench-press a small car, and ride a man into the wee hours of the morning. She just didn’t look like camping in a tent was her thing. She struck him as a woman who loved bubble baths, manicures, and designer bags.

  Too bad she didn’t rent one of their family’s cabins, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t possibly see her. They’d converted one of the five into a bathhouse of sorts years ago. It had generator-powered on-demand hot water, a spa tub, and a surround shower. Lucky for him, that was the one next to where he was staying, and they shared their bathhouse with all the families around the lake.

  A finger of the lake divided their family compound. Two cabins were on each side where the off-chute fed into the lake and one, the main lodge, was at the tip. It was twice the size of the others, but not as welcoming. That was the one where the family stayed when he was young. It had the pier, the boathouse, and all the shitty memories. The other four were for extended family and now a bathhouse—much more suited to him and definitely a plus when his brother would be in residence.

  This way, his brother would be far enough—no matter which cabin Richard chose—that he wouldn’t have to deal with him on the daily. Of course, there was little doubt in his mind that Richard would stay at the main house. Richard wasn’t a hiker and was too uppity to swim and be uncomfortably wet. Each set of cabins, not including the main, was a quarter of a mile from the other in the set and a half a mile from the main on either side by land. Of course, a quick backstroke across the off-chute would only take a bit from one set to the othe
r.

  After Tori and John were out of sight, he headed to the POS car that was free to use by the pilots. When the Bobcat was completely swallowed up by the snow-covered trees, Michael experienced a deep sense of loss and anxiety, but he refused to give it any credence. He had a working cock and a free night with which to use it, and he wasn’t going to waste that.

  Pulling up at the only hotel in town, he pushed down the sense of guilt, loss, and foreboding that kept trying to rise up and erupt like a volcano. He checked in, grabbed a quick shower, and took a few minutes to shave. He popped into the drug store next door for condoms and dropped them back at his room before walking over to the local bar slash restaurant, which was a stone’s throw away. Everything in town was—the bank, post office, dollar store, bait, gas, and hotel—all on the same block, the only block. It was a mile from the airstrip in one direction and a world away from everything else in the other directions.

  He spotted a qualified jockey as soon as his ass touched down on the cracked, red vinyl chair. His waitress was ripe, blonde, and willing. What more could a man ask for? Making quick work of his burger, fries, and two drafts, he chatted her up. He knew women pretty well, or at least he used to, B.T., before Tonya. Being in a successful garage-style band would never go out of favor with women. Truth be told, that’s why they started the band back in high school, to get girls. Now, they had a standing gig every Saturday and rotating ones on Fridays. Not enough to pay any bills, but they enjoyed it too much to give it up. There was just something about being in a band that made panties drop, and he wasn’t above pulling that skill out, dusting it off, and putting it into practice now that he had the need.