by Nikki Chase
Again, I’m glad it’s dark because otherwise, my parents would see me losing my cool. I don’t want them to know that the sight of these brothers have started a hurricane raging inside me right now.
“Thank you,” I say, even as doubt fills my chest. I suspect they’re just being polite. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer some time.”
In my periphery, I notice my mom turning to look at me, no doubt with a disapproving expression on her face.
“For you? Any time,” Mason says.
Is he . . . flirting with me?
“Are you here for the holidays?” Mom asks.
“Yes, Mrs. G,” Ollie says.
“Seems a bit early, doesn’t it?”
“It’s been a while since we spent time with our parents here in town. And since we can run the business from here, at least temporarily, we decided to stay a little longer.”
“So you’ll be here until . . . the beginning of January?” my dad asks.
“No, just until Thanksgiving. Then we’ll go back to the city for a few weeks before coming back here for Christmas,” Ollie says.
“Nothing’s set in stone yet, though,” Liam adds.
“What kind of a business do you run that you can afford to leave it for months at a time?”
Leave it to my mom to throw a subtle insult and word it as a question. She’s basically questioning whether they actually have a viable business.
“Medical tourism. It’s actually a booming industry. Google it,” Mason says, clearly irritated, although he still manages to keep that dazzling smile on his face.
“We’re not leaving the business, Mrs. Green,” Liam says calmly, although judging from the way his jaw’s clenched, he probably didn’t miss my mom’s passive-aggressive attack. “A lot of things can be done over the Internet now and we have staff at the office that’s more than capable of running the operations smoothly. At least that’s what we’re hoping for, anyway. This will be a test to see how well they work without our direct supervision.”
Liam’s usually quiet, but he’s eloquent and diplomatic when he speaks up. Mrs. Hunter once told me that he was going to law school, and I thought that was fitting for him. I wonder if he’s a lawyer now.
“I see.” My mom seems disappointed by the lack of any emotional reaction from the Hunters. No doubt she was hoping they’d slip up and tell her something gossip-worthy so she could share it with the entire town.
“It’s good that you’re setting aside time some family time, even though you’re busy,” I say, in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness and smooth things over. “Your parents must be excited about having you home again.”
“They are.” Ollie smiles like he never noticed my mom’s rudeness.
Honestly, they need to find a way to can that smile and open it during tense situations. It would melt any unease floating in the air. It’d help even Taylor Swift and Katy Perry get along. There’d be world peace.
“If you don’t mind,” my dad says, “it’s late, and we should get home now.”
I glance at my watch. It’s barely 8:30.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Ollie says.
“We’re going home to have dinner with our parents now.” Mason fixes his intense gaze on me. “But if you want to, we’re planning to go out again tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve been home, so it would be great to have a local show us the lay of the land.”
Anxiety fills my throat. What do I say?
I want to spend time with these three gorgeous brothers, but my parents wouldn’t be happy about that. They’re not fond of the Hunters.
But if I decline . . . I could be letting go of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“We must go home. It’s late,” my mom speaks up before I can say anything. She’s wearing a thin smile, and the tone of her voice is friendly, but I can tell she’s just putting on an act.
“Of course,” Ollie says politely. “Sorry for keeping you here. I’m glad we got a chance to catch up. Hopefully we’ll see you around.”
After a terse goodbye, the Hunter brothers walk away. I watch with longing as their broad backs get smaller and further away from me.
Can I slip away and join them after my parents leave?
Yeah, probably not. I don’t know where they’re going now, and we haven’t exchanged numbers or anything. There’s no way for me to find them without doing any creepy stalking.
“The nerve of those boys,” Mom says. I can already tell this is going to be another one of her long tirades. “I can’t believe they dared to ask a respectable young lady out this late.”
“Mom, it’s not that late. And it’s perfectly normal for girls my age to stay out late. It’s the weekend,” I say.
“Not with those boys. I don’t trust them.”
“Your mother’s right. They don’t have the right values.”
I almost roll my eyes, but I stop myself. I don’t want to start an argument on a sidewalk downtown.
“They don’t have any respect for tradition,” Mom says.
Actually, I think it’s nice that their family is so close that the Hunter brothers have no problem putting it before their business.
And just the fact that they run a business together . . . That’s pretty cool, right? Sometimes I wish I had siblings. Maybe that would take my parents’ focus off me once in a while.
“I saw the way they were looking at you,” Dad says. “You need to be careful around them.”
So it wasn’t just my imagination. The Hunter brothers were checking me out.
Hold your horses, I remind myself. Mom and Dad have a tendency to exaggerate and over-react. They were probably just being friendly. Most likely, they have girlfriends back in the city. Probably models.
“That’s right. None of those boys are marriage material. Not like Joseph.” Mom smiles, as though the mere thought of my ex is enough to save the whole night in her eyes. “When are you going to take him back, Ava? That man is a catch.”
I force a smile, although inwardly I sigh. Not this again.
If you like him that much, why don’t you date him? I want to ask my mom that question, but I stop myself before it’s too late.
“We’re not getting back together, Mom.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know a good thing when you have it.”
Ollie
“Fuck, those geezers have got me all worked up. I want to punch something,” Mason says as he drives his red Porsche like a maniac through the quiet streets of Ashbourne.
“I can’t believe you told them to ‘Google it.’” Liam, who’s sitting in the passenger seat, shakes his head. “Slow down.”
Mason cackles without remorse. He keeps his foot firmly on the gas, maintaining our speed.
As the oldest brother, Liam’s the responsible one who keeps us out of trouble. He’s an excellent lawyer now, and Mason often says he should thank us for training him to spot risks and mitigate them.
Mason’s a little more hot-headed than Liam and me, but I get it. We’re all angry after that encounter.
But I prefer to focus on the positives.
“That Ava, though . . .” I let my voice trail off.
I noticed the way my brothers were staring at her. I could tell they liked what they saw. They know what I’m talking about. I don’t have to explain anything.
“Yeah. Seriously,” Liam says. He doesn’t say much normally, especially when it concerns girls, so just these two words are a lot, coming from him.
“I admit she was worth the trouble of talking to her parents,” Mason says. “I couldn’t not take a closer look at that hotness. I mean, those tits, just peeking out under that lace? And did you get to see that ass?”
“God, yes,” I say.
This is weird, right?
I haven’t met a girl that piques my interest for months. Now I just randomly run into the perfect specimen of the female species in this piddly town, in the middle of nowhere? And our families have been neighbors forev
er?
What the fuck?
I don’t know what it is about this girl.
She’s pretty, yes. And sexy, too, as Mason’s so helpfully pointed out. But that’s not what draws me to her.
There’s a certain . . . wildness to her. But it’s contained. She looks demure and elegant on the outside—great manners, too—but her eyes . . . there’s an adventurer in there, just yearning to break free.
She’s wearing lace and heels, but she looks like she wants her boots sticky with mud instead, and her sandals wet with salty ocean water. That girl wants to roam.
Just my kind of girl.
Ah, shit. Here I go being all melancholic again. I’ve met this girl once, and I’m already planning Amazonian jungle treks and visits to the wet markets of Southeast Asia.
Okay, I’ll admit it. Like Mason, I sleep around. This dick has seen more than its fair share of pussy.
But my deep, dark secret?
I only sleep around because all the girls I’ve been in a relationship with always said they wanted to travel, but what they meant was shopping in Paris or having high tea in London. They weren’t interested in getting down and dirty.
So just because traveling’s a big part of my life, at some point in a relationship, I’d inevitably take a girl on a trip.
What can I say? It’s what I enjoy doing with a significant other. Some guys like to take their girls to the movies, I like to take my girl to . . . well, everywhere. That’s kind of the problem.
After a couple of European shopping trips, it’s normally just a matter of time until I’d take a girl to Delhi/Jakarta/Antarctica/Nairobi/Pyongyang and she’d get pick-pocketed/food poisoning/malaria/pawed at by dirty street kids/tired. And then she’d get mad at me. As if I wanted whatever happened to happen.
After a string of failed relationships, I realized what the problem was.
Those girls didn’t really want to go to those places. They were just doing it to humor me. So when something bad happened, they blamed me for it. Because they were doing it for me and not for themselves.
I grew tired of trying and failing, and decided not to try at all.
Don’t get me wrong. Variety is good. Variety is great. I know I’m lucky it’s easy for me to get variety. Not every guy gets offers without even trying like I do.
But what I really crave is depth. Quality, not quantity. A deep, almost spiritual connection.
Still, there’s no basis to my assessment of Ava Green’s personality. It’s just a gut feeling. It doesn’t make sense.
But something tells me she just might be . . .
Dare I say it?
. . .
The one.
I know, I know. It’s too soon. There’s no basis for me to say that. We talked sometimes when we were younger, but not much, and that was a long time ago.
Technically, Ava’s a stranger. I’ve only ever met adult Ava once. Which was only about ten minutes ago. When she was with her parents.
It’s not rational, I know.
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
Hell, it’s most likely just wishful thinking.
But Ava intrigues me. Maybe I’m insane and maybe I’m just hearing voices, but I have to find out what it is about her that calls out to my soul so loudly.
End of preview.
Thank you for reading!
To read the rest of the story, click here to get The Five Brothers Next Door.
Bonus: Stripped
A Bad Boy Next Door Romance
Jessica
Three Years Ago
“Come on, it’s my birthday.” The guy grabs my wrist, hard. His lips form into the shape of a smile and the apples of his cheeks shift up, but something dangerous flashes in his cold eyes.
His friends around us cheer from their couches, their hungry gaze flicking between my half-naked body and the dancer who’s currently on stage.
“Happy birthday,” I shout over the music that’s blaring in the background, then give him my best customer-service smile and pull my wrist away. “But I don’t do anything beyond lap dances.”
He’s not letting go. At first glance, his arm looks like it’s draped lazily over the arm of the couch, but his big muscles are flexed.
“What time do you get off?,” he insists.
“Let me go,” I say through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll have to call security.”
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s have a little fun. I thought strippers were supposed to be fun.” That fake smile on his otherwise expressionless face is seriously creeping me out. What an asshole. I look around to see if any bouncer is looking my way.
“Don’t be a creep, man.” One of the asshole’s friends taps him on the shoulder with an annoyed scowl on his face. “Take a hint. She’s not into you.”
“Fuck you,” the asshole says with an annoyed, embarrassed chuckle. He finally lets go of my hand.
I take two steps back and shoot the friend a grateful look. He nods at me and mouths a silent sorry.
The friend—my savior—doesn't look friendly at all. His handsome, angular facial features are frozen in a perma-grump, but something in his intense dark eyes doesn't quite fit the gruff exterior.
Like the rest of his group, he’s a big guy with beefy muscles and hair shaved close to the scalp. I’d bet all my tips tonight that they’re military.
The guy who just saved me… Even standing here among other big, strong men, he towers over everyone else. Wide shoulders, broad chest, hard muscles all over. Through his white crewneck, I can almost make out the lines of his chest and abs underneath, even with the dim lighting inside the club.
Now, if he were the one to ask me for something more than a lap dance…
Well, it would still lead to nothing, actually. I’m serious about my policy to never see any of my customers outside the club.
Still, as I make my way across the floor toward the dressing room, I wonder if he's checking me out my ass.
Good thing I’ve got my stripper strut down pat. It's not hard, really. Just wear impossibly high heels. They push your butt out and force you to swing your hips.
It takes a lot of practice to stand and dance on these babies for hours every night, but my feet still hurt sometimes. Like now, when my shift is almost over.
Most of the men have their eyes on Desiree, who’s wrapping one long leg around the pole as she sways her hips seductively to the loud music. The men standing right by the edge of the stage are shouting at her like they’re her choreographers.
“Show me your ass, baby!”
“Oh yeah, shake those moneymakers!”
A few men sitting at the tables check me out as I walk past, their lusty gaze roaming all over my exposed cleavage, my uncovered midriff, my bare legs.
While the military guys from the group I entertained are fit young men, the average patron in a strip club is… Well, not in such a good shape.
I don’t know why my co-workers date these men. It’s not like they go on to have healthy relationships. From the stories of the girls I work with, dating a customer only leads to trouble.
No doubt the fact that the guy has, at some point in time, walked into the club and gotten a lap dance from his girlfriend affects the relationship dynamics profoundly.
According to the girls who have told their stories in the dressing room, boyfriends bury their resentment at first until it all blows up into ugly arguments and accusations.
“Here’s $20. Maybe that’ll get you in the mood,” said one such boyfriend.
“How was your fucking day? Been rubbing that pussy all over random guys’ dicks all night, as usual?”
“Why won’t you quit for me? Still holding out for a richer guy, huh? I’m too poor to be your sugar daddy?”
Yeah, no. I don’t want any of that in my life.
I enter the dressing room and close the door behind me, shutting out the loud music and the even louder crowd.
“Busy night,” I say to no one in particular as I step ou
t of my shoes.
There’s no answer. Strange.
Someone is always in the dressing room, changing or doing make-up or exchanging the latest gossip. This silence is unusual.
There’s a row of mirrors in front of me, while some lockers line the wall beside me. On the other side of the room, a tall cabinet where we store our costumes and makeup items separates the changing room from the showers.
The smooth concrete floor feels cold on my bare feet as I step toward the cabinet. When I peek behind it, I realize why it’s so quiet.
Nancy stands in the corner, her shoulders hunched, as if she’s trying to make herself as small as possible. Stan, the owner of the club, towers over her, his stance aggressive.
When Nancy’s terrified gaze lands on me, Stan turns around with a glare.
“Everything okay, guys?” My voice comes out steady even though my heart is jumping against my rib cage. Stan is a big, scary guy, but I can’t just watch Nancy in distress and do nothing.
Stan grunts in reply and stomps past me to leave the room. Dance music pours inside when he opens the door, only to be muted again once it’s closed.
“Are you okay, Nance?” I close the gap between us and pull her body into a hug. She’s shaking. Poor thing.
Nobody quite knows the exact nature of the relationship between Stan and Nancy, but all the guys know enough to never even speak to Nancy and all the girls know enough to stay away when they’re together. All the girls except me, that is.
“Yeah.” With her body crumpling into my arms and her eyes avoiding mine, she doesn’t sound very convincing.
“Are you sure? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No. Really, I’m fine.” Nancy pulls away from me and gives me a weak smile. She looks so pretty when she smiles. Too bad she doesn’t do it often. “Done for the night?”
“Yeah. I should go home now. My mom’s probably fallen asleep in front of the TV again. With no blanket. She gets sick a lot these days. I don’t know why it’s so hard for her to just grab a blanket.” I get my clothes from the locker and change.
