Untamed: A fake relationship, small town romance (Gritt Family Book 3)

by Gabrielle G.

  2

  Barnabas

  “No!”

  “Barnabas, listen to me,” my mother scolds.

  “No fucking way, Mom.” If my mother thinks I’m going to say yes to her latest plan, she has lost her mind. Not that I will tell her, as much as I adore her, treasure her hugs and love her food, I'd prefer being alive a little longer.

  “Barnabas…” She sighs. It’s the sigh that tells me I should back down. The sigh she gives us before unleashing the guilt trip she’s so good at. My mother is a beautiful fierce fighter, and it’s better to give up most of the time just to not get in trouble. But I can’t fold on what she’s asking right now. If I say yes, next she’ll organize my wedding and plan for grandchildren, and I can’t let her get her hopes up. So, courageously and maybe a little carelessly, I stand tall and hold my ground.

  “No, we’re not having Avery stay here.” I have many reasons.

  First, the woman is crazy. What happened last night at the bar is just proof of it. She fucking spilled the drinks on me and whatever her name was and implied I came fast and had a small dick. If she’d only talk to some of her friends, she'd know my shaft isn’t tiny. Not. At. All. You can call me dumb, slut, asshole, jerk, pig, whatever else she’s called me in the thirty plus years we’ve known each other, but nobody can insult my dick. It’s so beautiful that monuments should be erected to it—huge, thick, smooth, slightly to the right, shrines built all over the country.

  Secondly, she’s a judgy little thing. Avery never waits for explanations, she’s quick to believe tales and make her own assumptions. Rumor has it, she thinks I slept with her mother. Fucking nuts.

  Finally, I can deal with seeing her once a week at the bar or ignore her at the farm when she plans the damn weddings, but having her around twenty-four-seven will drive me mad.

  “She needs help. Where is she supposed to live with Alexis…” my mother insists. Guilt creeps in. We all know the situation Ave is in, and I have wanted to punch her ex more than once. The only advantage of having Avery living at the farm would be to see Lex, her daughter, every day. I would say yes for Lex in a heartbeat, but I also know Ave won’t accept any help coming from me.

  “And I’m telling you, she will decline because I live here. Marybeth is crazy to think Avery is going to say yes.” I cross my arms on my chest and send a stern look to my mom. I’ve seen Aaron, my oldest brother, do so, and it always worked to get her to back off. It hardly ever works with me. She sends me a conniving smile, and her eyes fill with mischief. If only she weren’t so cute, I could stay mad for more than two seconds at her.

  “Well then, if you’re so sure she’ll refuse, why not propose?” Reverse psychology. She’s trying hard…

  “Because she’ll be too happy to accept if she thinks it irks me. And it does irk me. She hates my guts for God knows why, and she’s going to comment on my way of life every way she can. So, no!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Barnabas. She’ll be staying here in the main house; you wouldn’t even have to see her. And she likes you, I even think she has a thing for you.”

  “Of course, women who spit on me regularly are secretly madly in love with me. Fucking forget it.” I poke my head in my mother’s fridge to complete the quest of stealing some of the leftovers that she and my father had last night for supper. She tends to cook a little extra every day, so I have something to eat for lunch. I’m spoiled that way. Who wouldn’t want their mom’s cooking?

  “There is broccoli in this one. Take the other Tupperware.” Only one person in our family is a fan of broccoli, and I wonder why she didn’t tell me she was in town.

  “When did Sal arrive? She didn’t even call me…” I pout. My sister and I weren’t the best of friends growing up, and I would say we still weren’t a couple of years ago, but since standing up for her against our older brother and becoming the godfather of her son, we’ve become close. Not weekly phone calls and braiding each other’s hair close, but at least not constantly bugging each other close. Meaning, I don’t bug her anymore, and she comes to hang out with me now.

  “She arrived last night. They went to see Chris’ dad while you were sleeping.” Sal married our older brother’s best friend. Clusterfuck of a story, but they finally fell in love with each other and live happily ever after between LA and Springs Falls. I’m super happy for her, and I’m even happier that my nephew Arthur has taken his personality from our side of the family and not the Harbor’s strict ways and ugly mug faces. The Harbors are so much fun that Chris decided to take the Gritt’s name when he married Sal. That says everything there is to know about his family. That, and also that his sister barks like a seal when she comes... Yeah, not proud of that one. Gagging at the memory, or maybe at the broccoli, I’m not sure, I switch the Tupperware and grunt.

  “You see, if you had a nice girl like Avery to take care of you, you wouldn’t feel so left out.”

  “She doesn’t cook…” I say, walking to the microwave and starting to heat my lunch.

  “It’s interesting how much you know about someone you hate.”

  “I don’t hate her, Mom. She hates me.”

  “So you like her?”

  I grunt again. I don’t like her. I don’t hate her. I just don’t feel anything for her. Now, would I let her be in a bad situation if she asked me for help? No, of course not. I’m not that kind of an asshole. Can I stop fucking with her though and stop implying I want to fuck her? No. It’s too much fun to see her livid face and blue-furious eyes.

  “Bella,” my father growls coming in the room, “leave the boy alone.” He opens the fridge and gets the pitcher of cold water out. My siblings assume that because I was breastfed for a very long time, I’m a mommy’s boy, but if one is mom’s favorite, it’s my brother Luke and, of course, his boyfriend Dex. Whenever Luke is in town, my mother is overjoyed. She behaves like a groupie for those two, even doing their laundry. She might keep food for me, but she stopped doing my laundry a long time ago.

  I’m a daddy’s boy. I’ve spent hours, days, months, years by his side, playing hockey, taking care of the farm, having discussions on the front porch. He’s been there for me in the darkest moments of my life, and I hope I’ll be there for him the day he needs me. My father loves Sal because she’s the only girl, and he has put Aaron on a pedestal for the man he has become, and respects the shit out of Luke for everything he does, but he protects me fiercely against everyone and everything but especially against my mother’s attacks on getting married and starting a family. He sees behind my mask and knows the real me. The one I keep locked deep inside.

  I send him a thankful look, and he nods, before shoving me slightly from the cupboard to take two glasses out of it.

  “How is work, Son?” he asks while pouring himself some water. I grab a fork and start to eat my lunch directly from the Tupperware. I don’t miss my mother’s disapproving look, having warmed up the food in a Tupperware container and eating from it. But because my father asked me a question, she’s biting her tongue, waiting to deliver her lecture.

  “We have a lot of bookings coming up. The one yesterday was fun.” I smile. “Really fun, and she’s now on her way back home. I have a new one coming next week. I never thought so many single ladies would like hiking so much.” I wiggle my eyebrows, not hiding my sexual appetite.

  When you’re raised by hippies, you can talk about whatever you want, especially sex. My mother would like me to get married, but she doesn’t mind my free spirit ways as long as I treat the women with respect. I mainly do. I’m not the asshole Avery thinks I am. It’s always consensual, and most women use me more than I use them. Why is it that nowadays we classify women as victims of their own sexuality? I’m not talking about the sick fucks who force women to sleep with them. I’m talking about consensual sex. The women I sleep with want me as much as I want them. They don’t want to be treated as sluts if they have strings of one-night stands or healthy sexual lives, yet they are the first ones to call a guy who
has lots of sex with different women a manwhore. It seems they believe that to reach equality, they need to disrespect men the way they were disrespected for centuries. I’m no more a manwhore than the women who sleep with me are sluts. We are adults consenting to have fun together. I don’t have a little black book with names or numbers, I don’t play games, and I don’t make promises. I might have a little exhibitionist streak and forget a few names or details when I’m too high to care, but I always make the woman come first and never disrespect her. I’m a pussy gentleman, and I’m proud of it.

  “Be careful that your adventure enterprise doesn’t become a shag pad, Son. I don’t mind you fucking the whole country. I just don’t want you to get paid for it.”

  “I don’t fuck them all, Dad. There is a group of dudes coming up soon and then only couples or families all summer.”

  “That’s good. Is Andrew helping?”

  “Yeah, Jake is too, as usual. We might want to hire someone for the winter though. It’s going to be a busy season.” My father nods knowingly.

  “Does Avery have any more weddings at the farm coming up? Because she could help…” My mother is a pro at redirecting any conversations where she wants them to go.

  “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t talk to Ave.” I roll my eyes like an annoyed teenager.

  “Believe me, I know. You only talk to her daughter. It’s quite ridiculous… That little girl could really learn so much from you if you weren’t so hell-bent on hating her mother. You would make such a beautiful couple and a perfect dad. You’re so stubborn.” I can feel my father’s gaze checking on me. I nod as if to tell him I’m okay, that my mother’s words didn’t hurt. Not that much anyway.

  “You can fuck anyone, except the perfect girl for you,” my mother continues. “I just don’t get it.”

  “As I told you, not even five minutes ago, she’s the one who hates me.”

  “So, if she didn’t hate you, you would consider her as a girlfriend?” I widen my eyes. I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and it’s not going to happen any time soon, and not with Avery Dubois.

  “Bella, sometimes your intelligence gets outshined by your craziness,” my father says. My mother turns her head toward him, and I can see fire breathing from her nostrils.

  “Go,” he mouths to me, so I can escape. I look at him like I always did, with admiration and respect, because right at this moment, he sacrificed himself to save me from a fight with my mother. He’s a kamikaze going to his own death, and I love him even more for it.

  3

  Avery

  “Hi, Bella.”

  I pick up the phone while continuing to fold the pile of laundry I let accumulate all week. “What can I do for you?”

  “Avery, I’m so glad to talk to you. I’ve heard you need a new place to stay, and I wanted to let you know you’re welcome at the farm anytime.” Right. My mother couldn’t reach Bella right away, so she left her a message, and they went for tea this morning. She’s insisting that I go and live at the farm, but I can’t, in all good conscience, become Barnabas’ roommate. Even if we won’t be living in the same house or I won’t see him daily, knowing that he’ll be close to me and that my little bee would want to spend every minute with him is killing me softly. I have one month to find a place to live, and I will find one, even if it means that I end up on Donna’s couch or in a sandwich between Melissa and Jake.

  “It’s very nice of you, Bella, but I would prefer to find my own place. Alexis can be a little turbulent, and I don’t want to be a bother.” Mother of the year award right there, blame it on the cutest kid I have ever seen. And I’m not saying this because she’s mine, it’s the consensus around me that she’s adorable.

  “Sweetie, I had Luke and Barnabas as sons, she can’t be more trouble than those two were, sometimes still are.” She chuckles, while I wince. I need another excuse and fast. Before my hesitation, she hastens to add, “Is it because of Barnabas?”

  Is it because of the town slut? I wish I could say it isn’t. But Barnabas has bugged me since we were kids. From elementary school where he tried to look under my skirt, through middle school where he pointed at my lack of breasts, to high school where he got me the awful nickname of stuck-up Ave, until even last night, when he implied that he wanted to fuck me just because he knew he would make me angry saying so. He was never a bully per se, but he wasn’t my friend either. We had periods of cold war, especially while I was dating one of his best friends, and other periods of heated hatred, such as right now. Living on the same property as him and dealing with his ass daily, even if it’s a fine ass in the perfect skinny jeans he likes to wear, is too much for me to handle with what Noah decided to put me through. But I won’t bluntly tell Barnabas’ mother that her son is the bane of my existence. I’m good friends with Salomé, and the Gritts have been nothing but welcoming to Alexis and me for years, even babysitting my little bee when my mother couldn't, and they don’t need to worry about my feelings toward the pussy monster.

  “Of course not, I just don’t want to owe you anything more than I already do, Bella. Ridge and you have been amazing toward Alexis and me, but I need to get through this by myself before accepting your offer.” There. That’s polite enough, right?

  “If it’s because of my youngest son, I’ve talked to him, and he doesn’t see any problem with you living at the farm.” Of course, he doesn’t. It would give him more opportunity to make innuendos and try to get in my pants. Asshole. Couldn’t he for once accept that he hates me and say no to his mother? Why do I always have to be the bad guy where he’s concerned?

  “Well, it’s very generous of him, but I really can’t accept it at the moment. I promise you, though, if I’m stuck by the end of the month, I’ll consider your offer rather than living in my car.” Or I’ll move out of state and join my sister and her husband. That’s a good option too. Start from scratch, live happily ever after far away from Springs Falls. Maybe I can convince my mom to leave everything behind?

  “You know, Avery, before meeting Ridge, I was a very independent woman. Well, I still am. So, I understand not wanting to rely on a man for help. But it does take a village to raise a child, and we always liked you. It’s only Ridge and me giving you a hand like you gave to us when Salomé decided to uproot her life and ditch all the wedding organization. I think it’s a pity that we have all this room, and you don’t have anywhere to live because some nothing of a man treated you this way for so long.”

  “Thank you, Bella, I appreciate it.” I really appreciate her reminding me that I’m alone because I chose to believe a man when he told me he was single, lied to me for years about it, and made false-promises when I discovered the truth about his marital status. I always appreciate when my stupidity and naïvety is thrown in my face over and over again around town, or worse, when people insult me under their breath or pity me with their glances. There is nothing like feeling you don’t belong somewhere and hearing whispers while you enter every building. That’s something I can give to Barnabas, for some strange reason, he stands by me and does shut up rumors whenever he can, exactly like he did with Andrew at the bar.

  “Don’t think about it, Avery. Now let’s talk business. Barnabas wasn’t sure, but are there any upcoming weddings at the farm anytime soon?” Barnabas is bullshitting his mother. I know this because we had to share the same air while we discussed his calendar of events and mine, and it took all I had in me not to gag every time he raised his brows or smiled. I haven’t taken new reservations for the farm since Salomé left—she had two years of weddings fully booked—and the last wedding on the premises is coming up in two months. A couple who had canceled almost three years ago because she slept with the groom’s father, found each other again and still wanted to get married at the farm. Of course, we said yes and added them to the list of weddings to plan. So, Barn should know. He’s been unreasonable and difficult since I called him out after finding him sleeping his way through a bridal party a few months back. I keep
busy with weddings in other places in the Adirondacks and even refer my clients to Barnabas’ adventure resort for bachelor parties and family gatherings, but after the incident, I’m not recommending him for bachelorette parties anymore. No need to find him in bed with the matron of honor, the mother of the bride, or the bride, before a wedding I organize. This is a headache I can live without.

  “Yes, Bella, there is one in a little less than two months, I believe. I can get my agenda and tell you the exact date later on, if you wish.”

  “No need, but if you were living with us, we could discuss all this over a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a slice of apple pie, and of course, Alexis’ favorite brownies, but I mean...” When I grow up, I want to be able to guilt and manipulate the younger generation the way Bella Gritt can.

  “I heard Salomé is in town. How is Arthur?”

  Time to change the subject. Bella Gritt is known to love kids. Arthur should be a safe subject.

  “Oh my God, what a cutie. I can’t get enough of him! I really wish I had more grandchildren. You know, you have four kids, and you hope they’ll each have at least two, maybe four or five, and you envision your Christmases surrounded by tons of blond little heads running around, but no, none of them can give me what I want. I mean, Aaron worked at it at least; Luke is a selfish boy; Sal, well, let’s hope she’ll make at least a couple more before it’s too late; Barnabas… That damned boy, you know how he is...” And back at step one. Changing the subject fail.