She appears unfazed by my outburst. “I do, actually. Which is why it makes me happier than a lark to see you with some spark right now. To see your eyes all lit up and some fire in your ass. You need to get rid of these crazy fears you have that everything will end in heartbreak.”
“It’s not crazy. It’s like . . .” I look at the ceiling for inspiration. “Imagine this: you grew up with a family that loved sugar. It was their weakness, okay?”
“I did.”
“Follow along,” I reprimand her. “Let’s say they were so addicted to it that they couldn’t stand for any of it to be in the house. They’d eat it all. All of it. Gone.”
“Okay . . .”
“So you move out. Start your own bakery. You’re safe because they aren’t there to eat your sugar, right? Then imagine you fall for some guy. He’s perfect . . . except he too is a sugar addict.”
She looks at me blankly.
“Don’t you see what I’m saying?” I ask.
“Yeah, but if he looks like Lincoln, I’d just handcuff him to the bed.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab the bag and turn towards the door.
“Hey,” she calls after me. “I want details. Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy!”
The bell chimes as the front door closes behind me. I’m to my car in record speed. I need space. I need air. I need to think. When my phone buzzes right before I pull out of the parking lot, I know it’s Pepper and she’s not going to quit until I give her something to occupy her mind.
“Fine!” I nearly shout into the phone. “His cock is about ten inches, if I’m guessing, and he fucked me in about every position I could explain. My favorite, though, was the corkscrew. Not sure what that is? Google it.”
My finger goes to swipe off the call when I see the name on the screen and drop the phone. “Shit!” I cry, digging through the items on my passenger’s side floorboard until I find the glowing device.
My heart is pounding as I try to decide whether to end the call or talk to Lincoln. Mortified, I bring it to my ear and squeeze my eyes shut. He’s silent.
Maybe he didn’t hear. Please, God, don’t let him have heard that.
“Hello?” I eke out.
“I’d say ten inches is fair and I’ve made a note about the corkscrew. Glad I called,” he chuckles.
“Hey, Landry.” I want to slink into the seat and melt into the leather.
“That’s one way to make me a little less pissed that you snuck out on me.”
“I didn’t sneak out on you. I left a note.”
“For the record, the note didn’t help. But hearing you talk about my cock—who were you talking to, by the way?—that helps. That really helps.”
“Fuck off,” I say, smiling. Ready to change the subject, I flip on the Bluetooth and pull onto the street. “Why did you call? Hoping you’d overhear me embarrassing myself?”
“Baby, there is nothing embarrassing about having a man hear you talk about how much you liked being with him.”
I don’t know what I swoon harder over, him calling me “baby” or the husk in his voice. Sure, he’s called me that before, but hearing it when he’s not inside me is different. More meaningful. Maybe more like a word choice instead of a reaction.
He clears his throat. “I called because I need a favor.”
“Really, Landry?”
“Really, Dani,” he mocks. “My brother needs someone to watch his girlfriend’s kid overnight tomorrow night. They have something to do in Nashville and want to take the kid with them, but he can’t go with them that night. And Alison, my brother’s girl, doesn’t believe in nannies.”
“What do you need my help with?”
“Come over and have dinner with us. Help me entertain him. He’s ten or eleven or something and is a pretty cool kid. His name is Huxley and he’s a big baseball fan. So, naturally, we hit it off.”
“So why do you need me? Sounds like you have this figured out.”
“I’ve never been left alone with a kid all night.”
“I’m not staying the night with you and your nephew, Landry.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he says, mocking me again. “I’m asking you to come for dinner, watch a movie, build Legos, or whatever. Just hang out with us.”
I blow out a breath as I turn onto my street. Again: kryptonite. I can’t say no to this man. Even though I should back away slowly from the predator he is, I can’t. I like being his prey.
“What time?”
“Six,” he says and I know he’s grinning. But that’s fair. So am I.
Lincoln
MY WEIGHT POUNDING DOWN THE hallway causes the pictures hanging to knock against the wall. “I’m coming!” I shout as the doorbell chimes again. Like a kid at Christmastime, I pop open the door. “Hey!”
“Uncle Linc!” Huxley lunges forward, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Chuckling, I rub my knuckles across the top of the Arrows cap I gave him. Then I look up and wink at Alison. “Why’d you bring that guy?”
“Because that guy is her fiancé,” Barrett says, a smile thick in his voice.
“Officially?”
“No,” Alison sighs, rolling her eyes. “He better ask me soon or I might just up and leave him.”
“Try me,” Barrett growls, making her laugh.
I untangle myself from Hux and pull my brother into a quick hug. “How are you?”
“Ready to spend a few uninterrupted minutes with Alison.”
We both turn to the woman at his side. A red dress skims her curves, her lips painted the same color. I’ve seen this monochromatic look done a million times, but on her it looks different. Classy. Distinguished. Not mine.
It’s a running joke that I have a crush on my brother’s girl. It is a joke. I wouldn’t touch her if my life depended on it. As a matter of fact, I’d thrash any jackass if they tried it. Alison’s different. She’s smart. Funny. Nurturing. She’s a lot like Dani.
“What’s that look for?” Alison asks, just before she kisses my cheek. Her fingers find my face and she wipes the lipstick away.
“What look?”
“That look like you’re thinking of something, or someone, else.”
Tossing her a wink, I spread my arms to encourage her to follow Barrett and Huxley into the house. Once inside, I shut the door behind us.
“Can I explore?” Hux takes in the living room. “Please?”
“Better not,” Barrett warns, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. The look of potential horror on his features makes me laugh.
“Go ahead, Hux.”
“Yay!” he says and takes off.
“Don’t touch anything! Don’t open drawers!” Barrett calls after him.
“And don’t look in his phone,” Alison adds, jabbing me in the side with her elbow. “Lincoln Landry, you have no idea the conversation I had to have with my son after he got ahold of your texts.”
I grimace. “It was one text and it wasn’t even a picture text—”
“It was a very, very descriptive—”
“—that she never followed through on. But that’s not the point,” I grin. “He didn’t even get to the good stuff. I told him she was talking about a kitten at the pound. He believed it.”
Alison’s hands go to her hips. “And I had to buy a cat.”
“And I hate cats,” Barrett adds, shaking his head. “Just keep the phone out of his sight. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Geez, you make it sound like you regret agreeing to leave him with me.”
“We only agreed because we need a night to ourselves,” Barrett sighs. His hand finds the curve of Alison’s hip and he brings her to his side as her head falls against his shoulder. “We’ve not had a night alone in forever. We need a break.”
Smirking, I start to retort with how I’d spend a night alone with Alison if I was him, but am silenced by Barrett’s warning glare before I can get a word out. Instead, I laugh and head into the kitchen. “You
guys want a drink?”
They turn down my offer, but follow me into the next room. Hopping up to sit on the island, I look at my brother. He looks at me. We exchange a smile. It’s a gesture that’s loaded with a feeling I’ve never been able to find with anyone but my siblings. A look of comfort, of understanding. Of “I don’t know what in the hell you’re doing, but I’ll do it with you.”
Barrett looks at Alison like that. Ford looked at his girlfriend like that too before they broke things off when he went overseas. I’ve never been close to feeling that way with someone else who wasn’t a Landry.
“Tell me about her,” Alison says softly.
I grin like crazy because Barrett rolls his eyes, earning him a nudge in the side from Alison.
“She’s . . .” I watch my bare feet swing. It’s easy to joke about things, about women, with my brothers. I’m the goofball of the family; I can play everything off. But with Alison, it’s different. She picks up on so much more. It’s like she has a bullshit meter that dings when my mouth opens.
“Go on,” she encourages.
“Her name is Danielle. I met her by accident. She’s . . .”
“Not a whore?” Barrett offers.
“She’s not a whore. She’s beautiful and smart and funny as hell. She reminds me of you, Ali.”
“And she’s also impervious to your abs, I recall Graham saying,” Barret adds.
Alison laughs, wrapping her hand around Barrett’s arm as I wince.
“Fuck Graham.”
“Hey,” Barrett shrugs, amused. “That’s the word on the street.”
“I think that’s a very good thing,” Alison whispers, swatting my brother. “Never take a girl seriously that just wants your abs, Linc.”
“But they’re great. Wanna see?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Barrett glares.
It’s my turn to shrug. “Just being nice and offering. She’s been with you a while. She’s not seen something like this in a long time.”
Barrett begins to fire back, a grin on his face, when Huxley ambles in the room. “This place is nice. I put my backpack on the bed with the boxes on it. We can move them right?”
Furrowing my brow, I make a face. “Yeah. I wonder what’s in the boxes?”
“How do you not know?” Alison asks.
“Rita kind of does her thing and I sort of live around it. Stay out of the way.”
“But it’s your house,” Hux points out.
“Weird, right?” I shrug.
Barrett taps at his watch. “We need to get going. Troy is waiting in the car. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon sometime.”
“Sounds good,” I say, following them to the door. They say their goodbyes to Huxley and then turn to me.
“Please don’t warp him,” Barrett mutters before looking at Alison. “Are you one hundred percent sure this is a good idea?”
Alison kisses me on the cheek again. Looking into my eyes, she says, “I am. I trust him.”
“See? She trusts me.”
“She’s gorgeous but clearly not very smart,” Barrett sighs.
“Will you please go?” Huxley butts in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Alison and Barrett laugh. They open the door and Alison blows her son a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of him, Linc.”
“Let’s be real—take care of him, Hux,” Barrett calls over his shoulder.
“I got this. Just enjoy yourself,” I sigh.
They leave and Huxley turns to me. “Now what?”
Why I feel put on the spot by a kid is beyond me. But I do. The little shit starts a smirk that seems to flip our roles.
“What are you laughing at?” I say, heading into the living room and flopping down on the sofa.
Huxley climbs onto the cushion beside me. “I’m not laughing at anything. I’m just wondering what we are going to do. That’s all.”
“That’s all, huh?”
A grin that he seems to have picked up from Barrett, a sly little twitch that makes him seem so much older than he is, slips across his lips. “Well, kind of. I mean, I do want to know what we are going to do. But not because I’m bored or something.”
“So you’re suspicious?” I tease, kicking my feet up on the coffee table.
“I’m a cool kid,” he laughs, “but, yeah, I’m suspicious.”
“Maybe your mom and Barrett just wanted to be alone,” I shrug.
His face twists in disgust. “They kiss . . . All. The. Time.”
That’s not all they’re doing. My mouth pops open to say that, but my senses kick in first and I shut my trap. It doesn’t really matter though. Huxley gives me the ol’ side-eye. I burst out laughing.
“What?” I tease.
“Adults are so gross.” He removes his hat, his fingers rolling around the brim. “Can I ask you a question, Linc?”
That question is as loaded as my cock when I’m looking at Dani’s bare ass. This is very much above my pay grade. I mean, I can explain . . . things . . . to him. But in a way that my uptight brother and Ali are going to appreciate? Probably not so much.
Still, when I look at the kid, I know I gotta say something. It’s taking a lot of balls to even bring it up and I don’t want him thinking he can’t talk to me. With Barrett as a stepdad, the kid may feel a little uncomfortable asking about sex. I couldn’t ask my dad. Not that I needed to ask anyone. With three older brothers and the best looks in the family, I figured shit out quick.
“Sure,” I say, playing it off. “What’s up?”
He gulps, which makes me gulp. “I know what they’re doing when the door is locked, but . . .”
“Yeah?”
We look at each other, both fidgeting. I’m not sure who’s more nervous.
“Well, I was wondering, you know, kind of like, what are they doing?”
“Oh, shit,” I mumble, looking anywhere but at him. Stretching my legs in front of me, I try to figure out how to explain sex to a kid that can’t even say curse words yet.
When my eyes finally drift to his, I see the little kid that he is. Not the kid sitting in front of me, but the little boy that lives inside him. The six-year-old that lives in every man, regardless of how old we really are.
It’s the voice in our head that reminds us we don’t have our shit together half as well as we present it to the world. It’s the sound of questioning every move we make. The little boy inside every man in the world holds on to fear of something and reminds us of our vulnerabilities, whether it’s the monster in the closest or the General Manager’s call. Or, in this case, a mother that now loves another man.
That’s what he’s asking me. That’s the fear. This has nothing to do with sex, thank God, but more to do with his insecurity. This I can handle.
“Let me ask you a question.” I take the hat out of his hand and toss it onto the coffee table. “How are things going with Barrett? And you can be honest with me. He’s my brother, but you know, he’s my brother,” I wink. “There are times I’m not his biggest fan.”
Hux’s shoulders rise and fall. “I like him. He always asks me what I think about things.” He bites his bottom lip in thought. “I think he likes me too.”
“No doubt he likes you. You’re the coolest kid ever.”
He blushes, his little cheeks splitting into a grin.
“Here’s the thing, Huxley. When Barrett and your mom spend time together, they’re getting to know each other. See, you know how your mom loves you every day? No matter what you do or what you break or what you tell her you saw on my phone . . .”
A laugh breaks out across the room as Huxley tries not to look at me.
“You’re a little shit, you know that? I took so much hell for that,” I say, laughing too.
“You let me have it!”
“Once. I let you have it once when I was half-asleep. Won’t happen again.”
Hux grabs his hat and jostles it back over his head. Shaking mine, I wait until he’s settled down before continui
ng with my explanation.
“You and your mom have that,” I say finally. “You’re a family. She gave birth to you. But when adults marry each other, they’re picking that person to love. It’s a different thing.”
“I get that.”
“And your mom had to pick more carefully because whoever she loves will be around you. And you are the most important person in her life.”
Inch by inch, the anxiety in his eyes melts away. “You think?”
“I know,” I say.
He sighs, resting back against the sofa. Gazing out the window, he seems to be caught up in his thoughts. Slowly, he turns to me. “So, about what they’re doing in the bedroom . . .”
“You really want to know?” I laugh.
“Nope.”
“Thank God.”
Lincoln
“ARE YOU SURE IT TAKES all this stuff to make dinner?” I survey the kitchen. It looks like the grocery store threw up on the floor, counters, and table.
“How do I know? I’m a kid.”
“You were the one that read off the ingredients from the app. I need a little confidence here, Huxley.”
“There were about seven ingredients on the list. We got . . .” He looks at the golden plastic bags overtaking the kitchen. “We got way more than that. We should start putting this stuff away.”
I start opening cabinets and looking inside.
“What are you doing, Lincoln?”
“Trying to figure out where this stuff goes.”
I think he sighs behind me, but I don’t double check. We’re running out of time. The app says it will take almost an hour to make the pasta and I wanted to try to make sure the wine was chilled and put the cake from the bakery on a plate of some sort like my mom does when she tries to pretend like she’s baked something.
“Can I ask you something?” Hux asks.
“Sure.”
“Why are you going to this much trouble to make dinner for a girl? Do you like her or something?”
My hand stills on the bag of frozen spinach. “I do. I like her a lot.”
“What’s her name?”
“Danielle.”
He nods, organizing all the ingredients from the recipe beside the stove. Then he goes to work putting things in an empty cabinet.
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