Coming Apart at the Seams

by Jenna Sutton

  Grabbing a knife, she stuck it in the brownies to see if they were done. It came out clean, so she turned off the oven and put the brownies on the stove to cool.

  “Learn anything new?” her father asked. “Do anything fun?”

  They were the same questions her dad had asked her every single day of her life since she was a little girl. When she’d been a teenager and sullenly answered no to his queries, he had speared her with his blue-gray gaze.

  “That’s your fault, baby girl,” he’d said.

  Not a day went by that she didn’t think about his response. It was a reminder that she was responsible for her own happiness.

  “I did learn something new, and I’m about to do something fun.”

  “Oh, yeah? What do you have planned? A boy?”

  She laughed. “Daddy, I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t date boys anymore. I date men.”

  And then she laughed when she realized that she didn’t sound very mature, since she still called her father “Daddy.” But if all daughters had fathers as fabulous as hers, they’d call them “Daddy,” too, no matter how old they were.

  “Well, now, that’s good to know. But you still haven’t told me about your daily dose of fun.”

  “Brownies. Fresh out of the oven.”

  He laughed. “Teagan, honey, if you think brownies are fun, maybe you need to go out with a boy. A bad boy.”

  A hard knock on her door distracted her. She frowned. It was seven o’clock on a Thursday night, and she wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “Daddy, I need to go. Someone’s at the door.”

  “Make sure to check the peephole. I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she replied before disconnecting the call.

  She reached the front door and, heeding her father’s advice, leaned up to peer out the peephole. She blinked a couple of times, certain she was seeing things because it looked like Nick Priest stood on the other side of the threshold.

  He raised his fist and banged on the door again, and she jerked in surprise. Why is Nick here? She hadn’t seen him for a couple of years.

  Her first thought was something was wrong with Quinn, but then she discarded that idea because she’d just been on the phone with her dad. If something had happened to her older brother, he would have told her immediately.

  After unchaining the lock, she disengaged the deadbolt and pulled open the door. “Nick, what are you doing here?” she exclaimed, reaching up to give him a hug. “I’m so happy to see you!”

  He hugged her back, a light squeeze like he always gave her, and she leaned back to look at him. God, he was gorgeous. He must have sold his soul to the devil, because no one could be so handsome just by the luck of the draw.

  He smiled down at her, his even, white teeth flashing against his bronzed skin. Golden stubble covered his lower face, and his light green eyes sparkled. His hair was almost down to his shoulders, so blond it was the color of corn silk.

  “I can’t believe your hair.” She tugged on a strand. “You look like you should be on the cover of a romance novel or in a pirate movie. Arrgh.”

  Laughing softly, he cocked his head toward the interior of her condo. “Inside.”

  She stepped back and waved him in, enjoying the view as he walked ahead of her. Yes, Nick was Quinn’s best friend, and no, he’d never once shown any interest in her as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.

  But that didn’t mean she was blind. The man was physically perfect, at least in her opinion. And his choice in jeans was perfect, too. She got a weird thrill as she saw her last name sewn on the fabric hugging his butt.

  She pulled her gaze from his tight behind and ogled his broad shoulders, which were covered in a plain black T-shirt. Too bad it wasn’t tighter. She wouldn’t mind seeing some hard muscles outlined in soft cotton.

  He stopped near the kitchen, his nose twitching like a rabbit’s. Crossing her arms over her chest, she raised her eyebrows.

  “Let me guess . . . you want me to share my brownies?”

  His only response was a smile. She’d known this man for more than a decade, since Quinn had brought him home from college the summer between their freshman and sophomore years. Over time, Teagan and Nick had figured out a way to communicate even though he barely talked.

  At first, she’d thought Nick was shy. She had been sure he’d warm up once he got to know her and her family. But eventually she realized he wasn’t shy at all. He just didn’t like to talk.

  His silence didn’t bother her. She’d grown up with two brothers who talked too much, and it was kind of nice to be around someone who listened more than he talked.

  Beckoning him into the kitchen, she headed over to the stove, where the brownies were cooling. She grabbed the knife, and as she cut two big pieces, Nick came up behind her and leaned over her shoulder.

  He was focused completely on the brownies, and she would bet her last dollar he didn’t even realize he was pressed so tightly against her she could feel the heat from his chest and his breath against her hair. He might be oblivious, but she noticed.

  Teagan wasn’t ashamed to admit she found Nick attractive. Heck, every female who had gone through puberty felt a little quiver of longing when faced with his hotness. But there was nothing between them. There never had been, and there never would be.

  From the first moment she’d met Nick, Teagan had known he was way out of her league. That knowledge had prevented her from crushing on her brother’s best friend. It also had made it possible for them to become friends—buddies who hung out when the opportunity arose.

  She elbowed Nick in the ribs to get him to step back, and he grunted a little before moving away from her. Grabbing a couple of napkins, she wrapped his brownie and handed it to him.

  “Milk?” he asked, his expression hopeful.

  She shook her head in amusement. They’d fallen back into their old habits pretty quickly.

  “You’re like a five-year-old,” she teased as she poured him a glass of milk.

  Nick shrugged, clearly not offended by her assessment. He took the milk and brownie and waited on her to lead the way to the living area.

  She sat down on one end of her navy velvet sofa and tucked her legs under her. He plopped down next to her, taking up way too much space. With a sigh, he propped his tennis shoe–clad feet on her coffee table. After placing his napkin-wrapped brownie on his flat stomach, he broke off a piece of it and popped it into his mouth.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again.

  He turned his head, and their eyes met. He swallowed before answering, “Traded.”

  Quinn had told her Nick had been traded to the Colonials, but for some reason, it hadn’t really dawned on her that they’d be living in the same city. “Right. I forgot. How long have you been in town?”

  He made a humming noise. “Seven days.”

  She cocked her head. “Are you counting the days or something? Why not just say a week?”

  He took a big gulp of his milk and waved his hand around the room. “Like your place.”

  “Me, too. Although I probably paid way too much for it.”

  “You can afford it,” he noted with a shrug.

  He was right. Thanks to Grandma Violet, Teagan was an heiress. Her grandmother had divided her estate equally among her grandchildren, and they all had trust funds in the millions.

  “When I got the news I had been accepted to my program, I planned to rent an apartment near campus. But the rental housing in Cambridge is horrible.”

  “Spoiled,” Nick noted, giving her a big wink.

  She laughed. “You think I’m spoiled?”

  He nodded emphatically as he took another bite of brownie. The teasing glint in his eye took the sting out of his words, though.

  “If you had seen some of the apartments . . . they
were worse than a frat house.” She shuddered dramatically. “They were disgusting.”

  He chuckled. “Spoiled.”

  Her condo was one of two penthouse units in a six-story building that had been built in the early 1900s. It had been a hotel prior to being redeveloped into housing, and every single unit had a different floor plan.

  Her particular condo featured a large living area that flowed into the kitchen and dining space. It had two bedrooms, one of which she used for an office, and two full bathrooms. By Cambridge standards, it was luxurious.

  “You’re right,” she admitted. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever lived by myself. I think I’m officially an adult,” she added.

  He stared at her for several moments, his eyes assessing. She was a little unnerved by his scrutiny, so she nabbed his glass of milk and took a drink. He pointed to her mouth.

  “What?” she asked, running her fingers across her lips.

  “Milk.”

  “I have a milk mustache?” He nodded, and she laughed softly. “So much for being an adult.”

  * * *

  Nick couldn’t take his eyes off Teagan—who was definitely an adult, despite her milk mustache. He didn’t recall the last time he’d seen her, but something was different. He frowned, trying to figure out what it was.

  He had known her since she was a teenager, and he still remembered the first time he’d met her. He had expected a female version of Quinn and Cal: tall, lean, and blessed with good looks.

  As a horny twenty-year-old, he’d thought he might have the opportunity to break the best friend commandment that said, “Thou shalt not mess around with younger sisters.” But he’d quickly discarded that notion as soon as he received his first glimpse of Teagan.

  He and the O’Brien brothers had been tossing around a football in their expansive backyard when a short, round, young girl ran out of the house to greet them. She’d worn a Catholic school uniform complete with white button-down shirt, navy plaid skirt, and knee socks.

  A lot of guys fantasized about girls in school uniforms, and maybe, just maybe, Nick had been one of them . . . at least until he’d seen Teagan in hers. She definitely had not been sexy.

  To say she’d been an awkward teenager was being generous. Truthfully, she had been downright unattractive with her frizzy hair, splotchy skin, and mouthful of braces.

  Teagan placed the remains of her uneaten brownie on the coffee table. She leaned back and pushed up her glasses before flipping her long ponytail over her shoulder.

  Glasses! That’s what was different. She wore glasses with thick tortoiseshell frames that turned up at the ends like cat’s eyes.

  He gestured toward her face. “Glasses?”

  She touched her glasses, almost as if she’d forgotten them. She shrugged.

  “Too much time reading law books and looking at a computer screen.”

  He studied her. Her eyes were a deep, pure blue, and the glasses made them look bigger. They glinted behind the lenses, and when she blinked, he noticed her dark eyelashes. They were long and kind of feathery.

  “Cute,” he said.

  She cocked her head. “What’s cute?”

  “You. Your glasses.”

  Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned pink. He stared at Teagan, realizing he hadn’t really looked at her in a long, long time.

  On purpose.

  Her skin wasn’t splotchy anymore. It was smooth and unblemished and reminded him of the whipped cream Letty had put on his mixed berry parfait this morning. And now that he thought about it, Teagan’s mouth was almost the same color as the raspberries that had been in the parfait, and her eyes were a similar shade to the blueberries.

  He licked his lips, remembering how delicious the parfait had been. Then he shook his head a little, trying to dislodge the sexual thoughts about Teagan that had no business being in his mind.

  “School?” he asked.

  “I’m seventy-five percent finished with my program. I like to say it that way so it sounds like I’m almost done. Otherwise, I’d have to say that I have a year left.”

  She smiled, showing her straight white teeth. Those braces she had worn had done their job. Her teeth were perfectly aligned, no gaps to be seen. The essence of her smile was still the same, though. It was just as sweet and engaging as he remembered.

  When they’d met, it had been easy to overlook Teagan’s awkwardness because she had been so friendly and funny. They had established a weird conversational rhythm he’d never experienced with anyone else. He could say one word, and she’d fill in the blanks, making it easy for him to communicate with her.

  Sometimes he wondered if she even heard his stutter . . . if it even registered in her consciousness. While most people got a pained look on their faces when he spoke, Teagan’s expression never changed.

  Moreover, she’d never mentioned his speech impediment, not even in passing. And that was strange because she wasn’t the kind of person to ignore the elephant in the room—especially when the elephant was as gigantic as his stutter.

  His inability to speak without sounding like an idiot prevented him from making friends easily, yet Teagan had become his friend. And they’d stayed friends even though they only saw each other rarely. That was why he’d been so happy when Quinn had reminded him that Teagan was in Boston, too.

  Nick had been bored out of his mind earlier this evening, and he had considered changing into some nicer clothes and going out to a bar. He knew he would have no trouble finding sex because women liked the way he looked, and ninety-nine percent of them didn’t seem to care if he said anything or not.

  They were content to use his body and ignore his mind, and he felt the same way about them. As long as his partner had a wet, welcoming pussy, he was satisfied. He didn’t want her to open her mouth unless it was to suck his dick, and he didn’t care about her life goals, only that they didn’t interfere with his.

  Just as he’d headed into his bedroom to shower, his phone had buzzed to alert him that he had a text. The message had been from Quinn: Teagan’s in Boston. Go visit her.

  Once he’d known Teagan was in town, he couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her. If he wasn’t able to hang with Quinn and Cal, their little sister was the next best thing. And once he’d seen her, all the nervous energy he had felt earlier drained away.

  He placed his glass on the cocktail table, and she leaned forward to grab a coaster for it. As she did, her pink T-shirt rose a little in the back, exposing a sliver of smooth, white skin and the top of her lacy, red panties.

  His cock twinged, and he jerked his eyes away from the sight. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

  She was his best friend’s little sister, and now that he was older, he respected what that meant: hands off. More important, Teagan was his friend, which meant the same thing.

  He might be a dumb jock, but he was smart enough to know he could get sex anywhere. Friendship was harder to come by. Teagan was one of the few people he genuinely cared about, and he wasn’t going to mess that up by thinking about her naked.

  “What have you been doing?”

  He tensed, worried for a second she had noticed he’d been checking her out. But he relaxed when he realized she’d been asking about what he had been doing since he’d moved to Boston.

  “Nothing.”

  “There’s a lot to do here. Lots of history. The Red Sox.”

  He nodded. He knew Boston could be a fun place, but he didn’t want to explore the area by himself.

  She looked at him for a moment, tapping her fingers against her lips. The action highlighted how full they were—plump and luscious.

  His cock twitched, and he shifted uncomfortably as he tried to remember how long it had been since he’d had sex. Not that long. And definitely not long enough for him to be getting hard over Teagan, for fuck’s sake. Maybe he shoul
d have gone to a bar instead of coming to see her.

  “Want to hang out this weekend?” she asked.

  Chapter 5

  Saturday was laundry day, and Teagan was honest enough to admit she hated spending one of her free days washing, folding, and putting away clothes. Fortunately, she had a washer and dryer in her condo, so she didn’t have to make the trek to a dark and dank laundry room or a busy laundromat.

  She was spoiled in a lot of ways, but at least she did her own laundry. Many of her fellow Harvard students used laundry services. But she had a thing about strangers touching her unmentionables.

  If you excluded her immediate family, only one person had laid a hand on her underwear: her ex-boyfriend, Jason. He’d also had his hands (and other body parts) on the flesh inside her underwear. But he was the only one.

  Quinn and Cal had tapped so much Catholic school ass that Teagan had been appalled at how easily girls gave it up. They’d made an impression on her—a bad impression—and she’d held on to her virginity until college.

  She had wanted her first time to mean something. Actually, she wanted every time to mean something, which was why she hadn’t been with anyone since she and Jason had broken up three years ago.

  Teagan frowned. To say they’d broken up made it sound like it had been a mutual decision, and there had been nothing mutual about it. Jason had broken up with her.

  She and Jason had started dating her sophomore year in college. She’d liked him a lot, and eventually she had fallen in love with him. But how much did a nineteen-year-old really know about love?

  They definitely hadn’t known much about sex. Jason had been a virgin, too, and they’d fumbled their way through foreplay, oral sex, and finally intercourse. He was a smart guy, but it had taken him a year to figure out how to give her an orgasm without her help. She’d done her best to tell him what she liked.

  She hoped her next lover had a lot of experience and could give her mind-blowing orgasms just by looking at her. She scoffed at the thought. Who could do that?