by Kristy Marie
I sprint for the family room in all my greedy glory, stepping over Vic’s feet and dropping one soda in his lap. “Thanks,” he mumbles, catching the drink in his massive hands, never looking away from the TV as the credits fade from the opening scene.
“Damn, darlin. You could have asked for some help.”
God love Hayes and the concerned pout on his lips. He looks offended that I didn’t ask him to help me carry all this stuff. I spit the bag of licorice into his lap and give him a reassuring smile. “I thought we could use snacks.”
Opening the bag, Hayes takes out a stick of the stringy, red snack and sucks it in between his plump lips before sliding further to the arm of the sofa, creating a small opening between him and Mason. “I could always use a snack,” he agrees, taking the bags of popcorn and handing them off to Mason while he maneuvers the remaining drinks from under both my arms.
The food is passed around, and I take a moment to look at the guys and make sure they all have something to munch on during the movie. Tim is in the recliner, soda in hand, eyes fixated on the screen, while Mason stretches his legs against the ottoman. Everyone seems to be settled and ready to watch the horror flick Mason bootlegged off the internet.
Except Cade.
He refused to watch the movie with us, insisting he had work to do in his office. I tried to sweet talk him but he only grunted out a firm, “No,” and slammed the door in my face. I let his sour attitude go, but part of me wants to storm back into his office and tell him he should come have some fun. A defeated sigh turns into a squeal as Hayes yanks me down into the small hole he created between him and Mason. “Watch the movie, darlin. He’s fine.”
I nestle under the throw blanket Hayes offers and snuggle up next to him. He’s probably right. Cade is fine. He doesn’t need me to worry over him. Obviously, he needs space from everything. I just wish he would talk instead of closing himself off from the guys. They can’t help it I’m here causing him grief. At least I only have a week before Anniston returns home.
When Mason turns the lamp off and plunges us all into darkness, I feel a pinch at my side. I whip around, not able to see the knowing smirk on Hayes’ face, but I can almost feel the smile spreading all the way up to his cheeks. Instead of slapping his hand away, I snatch the licorice out of his mouth and cram what’s left into mine.
“Somebody is being naughty,” he rumbles under a low laugh.
Somebody could make a girl’s panties go up in flames with that one sentence.
“Somebody better keep his hands to himself and watch the fucking movie.”
Hayes and I both startle at the sound of his command before he turns on the light and reveals his pissed-off expression. Jaw tight, his forearms strain at his side as his eyes bore a hole into Hayes. “Am I clear, Sergeant Hayes?”
Hayes’ body shakes from holding back his laughter as he salutes Cade almost comically, “Yes, sir.”
With a hate-glare aimed right at me, Cade turns and heads up the stairs without another word.
“Look what you did, B. Now we’ll have to run an extra mile tomorrow all because you can’t control yourself around me.”
Mason groans beside me and I look at them all incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
Tim casts an apologetic look in my direction but doesn’t answer me. It’s Vic who finally explodes, standing from his seat on the floor and punching Hayes in the leg. “Stop fucking taunting him.”
Taunting him?
Like making Cade jealous?
I tip my chin back to Hayes and he grins boyishly. “Don’t worry. It’s good for him.”
Mason turns off the lamp. I want to ask Hayes to elaborate, but he covers my mouth, shushing me and pointing at the screen as the first victim screams.
It’s after one in the morning and I still can’t fall asleep. Visions of a masked man hiding in the closet have me on edge. And by on edge I really mean scared shitless. Where did Mason find such a gruesome movie? It’s all I can think about when I close my eyes—me waking to a man plunging his rusty knife in my throat and laughing evilly as he gets his rocks off by watching the life fade from my eyes.
No superhero saved the girl in the movie.
Everyone died.
The killer lived.
What kind of bullshit is that? I watch scary movies occasionally, but I want the good guys to win. Everyone wants a happily ever after, right? Sweat clings to my Optimus Prime t-shirt like I’ve run ten miles uphill. Ugh. This is going to be the longest night in history. See if I let the guys talk me into another horror movie again.
Turning over and groaning into my pillow, I try thinking good thoughts, like Cade’s muscular ass this morning when he asked me to hold the ladder so he could clean out the gutters. Calves that looked like they were carved from stone flexed below the hemline of his shorts, taunting me to graze my hand against the soft hair covering them.
Click.
Click.
A noise outside my window has my head off the pillow in two seconds flat. I stare through the darkness, my gaze focused on the sheer paneled curtains. They don’t move, and I can’t see if a man is standing behind them.
You’re safe, I tell myself.
But it doesn’t make me feel any better because I hear another noise. This time it sounds like something is scratching the screen.
Fuck this.
I spring from the bed, racing through my door to Hayes’ room. I rap lightly, hoping not to wake everyone with my crazy. “Hayes, open the door.”
No answer.
I’m tempted to just open it and crawl into bed with him. He probably won’t even notice. I bet it’s normal for him to wake up next to a woman he doesn’t remember getting into bed with.
I’m just going to do it. The worst thing that could happen is that he’s naked. I can live with that image burned into my brain.
Inching the door open, I peek inside before a warm hand wraps around my arm. I try to scream but a hand clamps over my mouth, smothering the sound.
“What are you doing?”
Cade.
Oh God, it’s just Cade.
My heart beats wildly, slamming against my ribs, no thanks to Cade scaring the shit out of me.
I push away and he lets me go but not before spinning me around to face him.
Emerald eyes watch me cautiously under the glow of the nightlight illuminating the hallway from a nearby outlet. “You nearly made me wet my pants,” I admit in a harsh whisper.
Cade’s eyes drift past the hem of my shirt, past my bare legs, before stopping at my blue painted toes. “You’re not wearing any pants,” he says rather all-knowingly. It annoys me that he’s being so literal and judging my choice of words when he just about gave me a freaking heart attack. I open my mouth to argue but he continues his assessment of me and asks, “What’s wrong?”
I turn and give Hayes’ door another glance, hoping he’ll step out, but Cade answers my unspoken question. “He’s out.”
Great. He convinces me to watch a scary movie and then trots off to a booty call, leaving me defenseless. What a friend.
“Breck.” Cade saying my name stops me cold. My name sounds sacred when he lets it float in the air between us. When all I do is stare, he tries again. “What’s wrong, Brecklyn?”
I mentally bank the way he seems concerned and nurturing right now and make a note to analyze it later with Jess. She’s good at reading underlying meanings with the opposite sex. Cade grazes his knuckles across my bare arm and causes a fit of shivers along my skin, a subtle hint to answer his question.
“I, uh … something is outside my window,” I admit with shame.
Cade’s forehead scrunches as he weighs out what I’m saying. “How do you know?”
How do I say that I don’t really, but that watching some horror movie has me a little paranoid?
You don’t, is the answer.
In no way do you look in the eyes of this hulk of a man—which may be a little amused at the moment—
and admit weakness.
So I exaggerate a bit.
“Something is clawing at my window, trying to get in.”
Cade’s hand swipes across his lips as he tries to hide his smile. “On the second floor?”
Did I mention he annoys me? I stand a little taller and narrow my eyes at the cute fucking grin peeking out. “Maybe it’s a vampire,” I argue.
It’s completely possible.
A weird noise—almost like a laugh—seeps between Cade’s fingers before he straightens up and says, “I could always offer you a ride home. That way the vampires will stay here and pick us off one by one while you’re safe at the orchard.”
Smartass can be so sexy.
But not at one in the morning.
My hand inches up my side, about to flip him the bird, when he grins, looking ten years younger.
Heart, are you beating?
Did this annoying man’s smile just kill you?
I’m still alive when Cade’s hand snags mine, smothering the finger that itches to flip him off. “Stay here. I’ll go check it out.”
He shakes his head and gives me his back, taking the stairs to the first floor. And because I don’t want him to go alone, I slip on a pair of flip-flops and trail behind him for moral support. Not because I’m scared.
“What are you doing?” he asks when he takes a turn into his office.
“I’m coming with you. You may need backup.”
Cade squats behind his desk and arches a brow, his forehead wrinkling with the motion. “I don’t need backup.”
I shrug like I don’t care either way. I’m still going. Cade rolls his eyes and opens the desk drawer, taking out a handgun. He points it toward the floor and stands, placing the magazine in his hand. Inspecting it, he pushes it into the handle of the gun, the motion making a locking sound.
With a deep inhale, Cade slowly drags his eyes from the gun until they land on me. I blink back at his intent stare and swallow. He’s so sexy with his plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his white t-shirt nearly ripping at the seam of his arms. Messy and sticking up in the back, Cade’s hair is the definition of bedhead. He looks soft and boyish apart from the lethal weapon clutched in his hand, and I want to reach out and hug him.
“Let’s go kill this vamp, Buffy.” Cade cocks the gun and my pussy clenches.
Yeah, it was that fucking sexy.
And he made a joke.
A fucking joke!
I’m falling for this man and it’s not fair.
Why can’t he be emotionally available?
Cade chuckles and pushes past me. “Stay behind me and don’t talk or you can’t come.”
I nod my agreement and follow behind him. He grabs a flashlight from the kitchen and turns it on before opening the back door. The air is still and muggy when we step out onto the patio. Cade points the light above us, centering it on my window. He doesn’t speak but raises his gun and takes quiet steps around the perimeter of the house.
A croaking noise sounds at my feet and I rush Cade, high stepping to prevent whatever lurks in the dark from scampering across the top of my foot. What I didn’t expect was losing my flip-flop and falling into Cade, the only thing preventing my plummet to the ground being his pants.
Yep.
Clumsy strikes again.
Cade jumps and curses, not able to grab his pants as they plunge toward his knees with my momentum. “What the fuck, B?”
Finally, I’m able to right myself, slightly disappointed that Cade has on boxers. Too bad I didn’t get a face full of ass. “I’m sorry,” I wheeze out into the night air. “I thought something ran across my foot.”
Cade gives me a disbelieving look and hands me the flashlight, pulling up his pants. “So, is it a vampire or a mutant frog that’s scaring you tonight?”
I swipe the beam of light around me, hunting for said devil frog, and come up empty. My lips purse, and when Cade has his pants settled, I hand him back the light. “I think you scared off the master vamp with your terrible sense of humor. Maybe he’ll lurk at your window now.”
Cade scoffs like he dares a vampire to lurk at his window and live to tell about it. I hate to admit it, but his confidence turns me the hell on.
“Let’s go. There’s nothing out here.”
I nod reluctantly and head into the house. Cade locks the door behind him, retreating back to his office to secure his weapon. When he returns, he pours a glass of water and offers it to me. Without shaking, I take the glass from his strong hands and flash him a smile in thanks.
“You okay now?” he asks, his butt leaning against the counter. Lucky counter. I bet it sees more ass than the showers around here.
I pick at my hands, the skin dry from all the hand washing I do. “I guess.” I’m not going to say, hell no. Something was scratching at my window and there might be a serial killer lurking in my closet. Cade would think I’ve lost it.
“Want to watch TV for a little while?” My head snaps up and Cade darts his gaze to the living room and shrugs. “Watching TV works for me sometimes when I have nightmares.”
Do I want to rush him and squeeze those eight-pack abs until he begs for mercy?
You bet your ass I do.
“Are you offering to hang out with me tonight, Major Jameson?”
Cade’s eyes go crossed, and he pushes past me on the way to the dimly lit living room, calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, B.”
I stand in the kitchen with a ridiculous grin on my face as Cade turns on the TV and settles on the sofa.
He’s warming up to me.
I let Cade get comfortable before I join him in the living room. A fleece throw is draped over the arm of the sofa, and I grab it, bundling up into a cocoon on the other side of Cade. He doesn’t look over, scrolling through the channels before stopping on Transformers.
Bumble Bee comes on the screen and my ribs feel tight as I think of Bennett and this movie. It was his favorite.
I yawn, absently admitting, “I love this movie.”
Cade turns and cocks his head to the side. “I thought you only liked hero movies?”
How ‘bout that? He pays attention.
“This is a hero movie,” I correct him, slouching into the cushions, the adrenaline of hunting a mythical creature earlier wearing off.
“How so?”
Cade honestly seems curious as his gaze flicks back and forth from the screen to my face.
I give him a tired smile, yawning once again. “Apart from the military and the alien beings, the true hero is the awkward high school kid.” My head lolls to the side, inching closer to Cade’s shoulder. “Sam gave awkward kids like me and my brother hope that one day we would find purpose. A place amongst the heroes.”
“Huh,” is all Cade responds with, turning back to the movie. Bumble Bee attempts to hide behind the flower pot and I feel my eyes closing, my body drifting down as if strong hands are pulling me into a lap, my face colliding with the softest flannel. I snuggle down with a content hum when my scalp tingles under his touch. I feel the safest I’ve ever been when I hear, “Go to sleep, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
B,
Eight weeks! We’re coming home in eight weeks. I hope. You never know, but it’s soooo close I can almost taste it. I miss you, loser. Oh! I almost forgot. I heard one of the guys say his daughter has a VLOG. Maybe you, Jess, and Milos should look into it? Kind of goes with your movie review … you still suck though.
#butsomeonehastoloveyou #weneedmorecookies #majoreatsthemall
Bennett Brannon
Washing dishes sucks about as much as a menstrual cycle. Anniston said the guys would wash them, but after seeing how hard they work all day with their jobs and workouts, I feel a little guilty staying home and watching them scrub pots and pans after a long day.
I only offered once, and they jumped on the idea like I was selling Girl Scout cookies—the caramel ones.
Vic dashes past me, throwing, “See ya later, B,�
�� at me before I can respond. He’s obviously running late. Mason clomps down the stairs about five minutes later, dropping the F bomb as he hurries past, snagging a protein bar off the counter, Killer right behind him. “We overslept,” he tells me, shoving half the protein bar in his mouth and dropping a piece to Killer, who doesn’t even chew it.
Come to think of it, I didn’t hear them going for their morning run. I’ve gotten so used to the early morning noise that I’ve learned to sleep through the grumbling hotties. “Where’s Cade?” I holler at Mason’s back as he runs for the back door.
“Don’t know. Gotta go.”
Something feels off, and it’s not because I fell asleep on Cade last night and woke up tucked into my bed this morning like that’s where I fell asleep all along.
Something feels really off.
Maybe it’s that their routine is broken or maybe because it’s silent in the house. I assumed everyone was outside. Turning off the water and wiping my hands on the towel, I head upstairs, checking Tim’s room first. It’s not locked. I knock, and he opens the door, looking out of sorts. His sandy hair is sticking up, giving him that freshly fucked look. I know that’s not the case, the empty room confirms it, but still … how unfair. Hair that naturally looks good when you wake up should only be saved for women. Men don’t deserve freshly fucked hair.
“Everything okay?” I ask with a smile, trying not to look at those yankable golden locks.
He nods and rasps out a broken, “Woke up late.”
I tip my chin in acknowledgement and elaborate on what I know about the situation. “Cade didn’t get up in time to wake everyone up.”
Not that Tim has anywhere to go. He stays with Cade most days and helps around the plantation. No one has confirmed it for me, but I think he struggles with his hearing loss.
Tim looks behind me and then mutters that he’ll be out soon. I nod and move to the next door in line. Hayes. I knock, but no one answers. Pushing open the door, I brace for an eye full of nakedness, but he isn’t in there.
What the hell is going on around here?
I pull my phone out of the waistband of my shorts—yeah, I’m classy like that—and text Hayes.
